Norwegian Mountains, Møre og Romsdal
Veirahaldet on skis, Dec 6 2008
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Veirahaldet and Blåtinden
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December is a beautiful month. From morning red to evening red in few hours. Typically, I don't get many December ski-trips, and especially not with superb weather. But the few ones I do get are truly memorable. And precious.
The plan for this Saturday was to visit Blåtinden, which I hadn't been to yet. I drove to the Bondalseidet ski-centre, but turned around due to stress. The road was blocked, and while the car ahead of me opened the block, a guy came running down the road, waving his arms. I don't know what the heck was going on on, but it seemed that the ski-centre hadn't opened yet, and that cars on the road would become a monumental problem. To h... with this, I thought to myself, and continued further down into Bondalen.
I decided to take my chances at Tverrgrova, a small place a few kilometers down in Bondalen. The ascent would be less steep than from the skiing centre, but then there was this steep forest. At least there would be peace and tranquility and no one would be waving, pretending to be very important. I headed out 11:13am, and noticed that I was being observed from someone's kitchen table. Where's he going? On skis? In this forest? Knowing I was the talk of the town, made me chuckle.
Leaving Bondalen behind
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The ski-trip up towards the saddle point between Veirahaldet and Blåtinden went smooth, but then skiing became difficult. Under the thin layer of snow was a layer of very hard snow/ice. My poles didn't get through this layer, and I had a 40 deg. slope ahead of me. I had brought crampons and an ice-axe, but right there and then, I felt short of one more ice-axe. I had a slightly less steep slope to my right, but if I fell, the slide would be very, very, very ouch. I was in doubt. This didn't feel right. I decided to follow an inner voice, which told me to cancel.
Difficult decision below Blåtinden
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But I just couldn't return without having been to a top, and fortunately, Veirahaldet was close by. I had visited Veirahaldet in fog back in 2006, and it would be just OK to visit that top again on a day like this.
Skiing from 760m and upwards was just terrible. Already at 800m, I thought hard about leaving the skis and proceeding on foot, but kept on going until 1100m where I left the skis behind. As I was about to summit Veirhaldet, I noticed a couple skiing down the southwest ridge. They noticed me too, and we all stopped for a moment and exchanged a "pole greeting".
On top of Veirahaldet
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Veirahaldet was a cold mountain on this Saturday. Approx. -10 deg C., and some wind. Fortunately, I was wearing my new Herdwick wool scarf. The scarf had been knitted by my good friend Anna, who had noticed my fascination about the Herdwick sheep. Along with the scarf, I received a letter, adressed to Arnt Flatmo! Anna likes exclamation marks.. what can I say? I like it. I wonder if the authorities would allow a name that contains the exclamation mark? Intriguing..
The letter contained a fun story about homing sheep, frequently stolen by the Scottish. But some of the sheep would find their way back home. Ha ha! My kind of sheep! Apparently, Norwegians introduced this brand of sheep to the Lake District, so it was only proper that I wore their wool on top of a Norwegian peak. And I do hope Anna was a little bit amused when she received the above picture on mail...
Evening red
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Because of the ice, I dreaded descending the upper part of the mountain, which turned out to be exactly as tormenting as I had feared. It's still early in the skiing season, and I'm not in shape yet. But once I got below 750m, I had one of my greatest ski-descents ever! Skiing down the forest was all about timing. Timing about which trees to avoid and when to make 180 deg. turns. Arriving at the trailhead 3:08pm, almost 4 hours after departure, I felt very, very uplifted. This is good living!
