Storenut & Håvfallskarnutane, or how not to hike in the mountains
Not so long ago, I wrote about how big a mistake I made when I was going to the mountains in new, unused shoes. It was a good lesson to remember for the future. However, it did not protect me from other mistakes made just a few weeks later. Before I reveal what’s so stupid I did, let’s move to one Sunday morning in June.
I was on my way back from the west coast of Norway to the east. The day before I went to Sætrafjellet with Maiek and somehow I did not feel the need for another hike, although it would certainly be nice to go somewhere again. The landscapes on the way were tempting and I even had in mind a few interesting spots on the route, but each time I approached one, it started to rain. In the vicinity of Haukeligrend even the sun came out and it seemed that it would be nice further. So I immediately decided to go in one specific place. I turned into road 362 and headed for Lake Totak. There is the Storenut mountain (1396 m above sea level), lying on the edge of the Hardangervidda plateau. I found a nice, well-kept parking lot and got ready to walk. Before I go, I saw the Torgeir Augundsson statue next to it and the three small huts across the street, where he spent the last years of his life.
For those who have not heard who it is (I had no idea myself so far), such a short biographical note. Torgeir Augundsson (1799 or 1801 – 1872), the famous Norwegian violinist, called Myllarguten (The Miller’s Son), which tells us a bit about his father’s profession. He began to show his musical talent at a very young age, playing at weddings and festivals. At 15, he was already known as one of the best (if not the best) violinists in the entire Telemark region. In 1830 he married Ingebjørg Rikardsdotter Haugen. A year later he met Ole Bull, a violin virtuoso from Bergen. Both men, although they came from completely different social classes, were united by friendship and a shared love of playing their beloved instrument. They both loved to spend hours improvising melodies. While Ole Bull toured abroad, gaining fame in Paris, for example, Torgeir Augundsson and his wife moved from place to place and clinging to part-time physical jobs to patch the family budget. They had ten children.
In 1848, Ole Bull returned to Norway as a celebrity. Together with Torgeir, they decided to arrange a violin concert. It took place on January 15, 1849 in Christiania (Oslo) and was remembered as a milestone in the history of Norwegian music. The event made Torgeir famous and the newspapers wrote in awe of his talent. The next day he played for King Oscar I in the newly built Royal Palace in the capital. Soon the music from Telemark and the violin from Hardanger became the national symbols of Norway.
In the following years, Myllarguten gave many concerts, both solo and with his friend Ole Bull. However, when Ole offered him a joint US tour, Torgeir refused. He continued playing alone, for example in Copenhagen for the Danish king Frederik VII.
He never made much money and lived a modest life with Ingebjørg until the end. He died on November 21, 1872, leaving behind many famous melodies that became an inspiration for later musicians and composers.
Let’s stop this digression here. It’s time to get back on the trail. Torgeir’s cabin turned out to be padlocked anyway. Probably to get inside you would have to make an appointment with a guide. I was more interested in the mountains, so I just peek through the window inside and moments later I was on my way. A freshly paved road led me to a cottage estate and a closed road leading to the upper hydroelectric station. I passed the barrier and laboriously climbed up the gravel road from now. The power plant building turned out to be a construction site, which also consumed part of the path starting from there. Somehow I managed to reach the trampled part of it, thanks to which the further walk turned out to be a bit easier.
But only a little, because in the meantime I realized that I had made a stupid mistake. The sun and intense climbing made me sweat and it turned out that I did not take water with me. My water bottle stayed at home, I still had a 1.5-liter bottle in the car, but at the moment it was beyond my reach. I just hoped that at some point the path would come close to some stream and I would be able to quench my thirst.
This happened only an hour after the start of the march. Fresh water has never tasted better. I quenched my thirst and moved on. Soon I got to the pass where I was supposed to leave the path and continue walk the cross. Yes, I did not mention this before. There is no path on Storenut. At least there is nothing like this on the internet map. The plan was that I will keep to the predetermined direction (southwest) and use the app on my mobile to control my position occasionally. What could go wrong?
The start was promising, I even encountered a mother sheep with young lambs, but they fled to a safe distance as soon as they saw me. Then it became to be more difficult, because I had to go up a hill and climb another pass. Then it was going to be downhill. About the same moment when I left the path the weather started to deteriorate and the sun was covered with clouds. There was a cool breeze and I was hoping to get in and get back to the car before it started to rain. On my left hand I passed some sizable mountain, as it turned out later it was Håvfallskarnutane (1387 m above sea level). Yes, the same peak as in the title of the entry. I kept walking. Once it was uphill, sometimes downhill. With each successive ascent, I expected to see Storenut in sight, but my target did not seem to come closer at all. And with each approach I was losing my strength. As soon as I reached a stream, I drinked greedily and then continued walking.
To make it more interesting, my mobile app, the one that was supposed to show my position, suddenly started to go crazy and I couldn’t tell where exactly my destination was. I tried to rely on my sense of direction. I was stubbornly moving forward, overcoming the hills and avoiding larger or smaller lakes. The landscape was gray and did not encourage taking pictures. I was already tired when a large slope rose in front of me, which must have already been my mountain. I gathered up the last of my strength and began to climb. Upstairs, I realized it was still not Storenut. I did not see the characteristic mound of stones anywhere or anything that might point to the top. Somewhere far away there was a higher peak, but too far away for my goal. And too far for me to get into him, given the reserves of strength I have left. It was really going to rain, and the occasional drops were already cutting through the air.
I pulled out my cell, hoping the app would work this time. And it did work properly. Allelujah. I was dumbfounded when I saw where I was. It turned out that I climbed a mountain that I was circling all the time. I was standing on Håvfallskarnutane. How? It was the only question I asked myself. How could I suddenly find myself on a completely different mountain? How did it happen that I got lost and which way did I get on it?
The good news was, at least I knew where I was now. I was too tired to correct the route and continue walking to Storenut. So the only option was to retreat and leave. All the way to the path, I wondered how I could have strayed from my course and ended up in a completely different place. I couldn’t find an answer to that. On the way back, I found the same sheep again. This time they did not run away, but they watched me go by. I reached the wide, gravel road at the construction site by the hydroelectric power plant and successively lowered the height on subsequent turns on the slope. I covered the last stretch to the parking lot on a completely flat surface, and yet after reaching the car I was panting as if I had finished a marathon. I got into the water and pounded everything at once. I dreamed of bathing, eating, drinking and having a comfortable bed. This, however, had to wait, because there were still some 4 hours of driving ahead of me.
During this hike I made two basic mistakes. The first was the lack of water. I was saved by the passing streams and if it hadn’t been for them, I probably wouldn’t have got far enough to make the second mistake. The latter was poor orientation in the field and lack of vigilance, which led to a deviation from the chosen route. As you can see, the mountains have their own rules and you can never be too lighthearted.
With this optimistic accent, we end today. See you next time.
