Most of the hikes we did in Norway required almost 0 planning. Look up some good hikes in the area, take enough water and snacks to last the round-trip, wear weather-appropriate layers, and off you go! The Besseggen hike in Jotunheimen was a notable exception to this rule. It’s a full-day hike that requires meticulous preparation, research, and purchasing ferry tickets weeks beforehand. One of Norway’s most popular mountain treks, it’s 8.7 miles climb through hilly terrain, ascending 4,000 feet above sea level along a windy, steep, and narrow ridge. While climbing equipment is not necessary, it is only recommended for experienced hikers and those without fear of heights.
The interesting thing about Besseggen Ridge is that it’s a one-way hike – you either do it from the town of Gjendesheim to Memurubu and take a ferry back or first take a ferry to Memurubu and then hike back to Gjendesheim. Due to the popularity of the hike, the twice-a-day ferry (once at 9 am and once at 5 pm) often sells out weeks in advance. Victor spent hours researching this hike and we finally decided that we would take the morning ferry to Memurubu and hike back for two reasons. One, everything he read about this trail said that the views are much better if hiking from Memurubu as you are facing the panoramic vistas, rather than having your back to them. And two, we didn’t want a repeat of the Gap of Dunloe fiasco when we had to hurry through a hike to make it to a boat. Taking the ferry in the morning and hiking back to the car would allow us to take our time on the hike and not feel rushed to make it to the 5 pm ferry departure or risk being stranded in Memurubu overnight. And so, weeks before we left for Norway, the non-refundable ferry tickets were purchased and our already tight itinerary became metaphorically set in stone.
If you read my previous Norway posts, you probably know where this is going. Everything in Norway can be planned, except for the weather. The weather in Norway in July can range anywhere from a pleasant 70-degree sunny day to a full-blown snowstorm, from clear skies to heavy fog and rain sometimes in the matter of hours. While we mostly got lucky with the weather in the Lofoten Islands, Jotunheimen National Park was not so kind to us. All the weather models were predicting rain on our big hike day. We remained optimistic and hoped that the rain would be light and short and not interfere with our plans.
The morning of the hike we woke up very early and drove an hour and a half to the ferry. The skies were dark with clouds, it was drizzling lightly, and the ferry with a capacity of over 70 passengers only had around 10 others boarding with us. The fact that so few people decided to go on the hike today was not a good sign. As we cruised through the lake, the rain intensified and the mood inside the passenger cabin was as grim as the skies outside. Fellow hikers were testing their equipment, zipping up their layers, staring in worried anticipation out of the windows, some people looking determined and stone-faced, others nervous and scared.
“You would think we are about to invade Normandy, rather than go for a hike…” Victor whispered to me.
As soon as we docked, it turned out that Memurubu is simply one lonely mountain lodge sitting in the wilderness, not an entire village as I initially thought. The trail immediately started with a steep ascent, up a mountain, the top of which disappeared into heavy fog. We climbed, rain drizzling on us, careful not to slip on the muddy rocks. The initial climb was demanding but manageable and the first hour flew by as we scrambled through the rocky terrain and patches of alpine vegetation. And all of a sudden, we were at the summit! Well, at the summit of this particular mountain, with many more kilometers to hike up and down a ridge leading us across multiple mountains.
“I am freezing,” Victor admitted. This was no small statement. In all the years of hiking, this might be the first time this phrase has been uttered by him. We pulled out extra sweaters out of our backpacks, removed our jackets, and as quickly as we could, added extra layers. For a little bit, as the path now wasn’t steep and we were a little warmer, it seemed manageable. But the rain was growing more and more intense, and worse of all, we were completely surrounded by fog, unable to see more than a dozen feet in front of us. As we approached the next steep part of the trail, we couldn’t even see the summit of the next mountain, it was completely covered in thick, milky fog.
I hated to even think of giving up, but this whole endeavor was starting to make less and less sense by the minute. We hid behind a large boulder from the vertical rain and wind and talked it out – the risks of hiking in such wet, slippery, windy, and cold weather, the inability to see the gorgeous views from the ridge, and our reasoning for doing the hike in the first place. We agreed that we were not here to put a checkmark next to “Hiked Besseggen Trail” in the bucket list of travel, to test ourselves against the forces of nature, or to train for harder hikes. We were here because we wanted to enjoy ourselves (even if pushing our bodies harder than usual), see the views along the way, spend time on the narrowest parts of the ridge, and soak in the 360-degree panorama of the most dramatic landscapes found on planet Earth. And as disappointing as it was, none of this was going to be possible in the current weather conditions. We agreed to turn back.
We descended down, marveling at how far we managed to get in the last hour and a half, despite the foul weather. The rocks were slippery and muddy and the progress down was slow. Every now and then, I would glance back up and check that the fog hadn’t shifted at the summit, constantly questioning myself if we had given up too early. What if the rain stops soon? What if the fog dissipates? What if we gave up our only chance at this incredible hike?
By the time we reached the Memurubu lodge, we were wet, dirty, and somewhat despondent. The ferry back was in over 4 hours, but thankfully there were many couches in the lobby, most with hikers sleeping on them. We found an empty couch in the corner, got some hot coffee and snacks, and within half an hour Victor was asleep. I couldn’t sleep and watched the raindrops mercilessly beating down on the windows, feeling somewhat better about our decision.
On the next couch, a group of three European girls started chatting with a group of four American college boys, as I listened in.
“We were going to hike today!” one of the girls said, “But no way we are doing it in this weather! We’ll just wait until tomorrow and see if the weather improves!”
“We hiked here from Gjendesheim yesterday,” said one of the boys, “The weather was great, and it was still such a hard hike! The hardest I’ve ever done. No, I wouldn’t do it in this weather, that’s crazy.”
I had to keep myself from waking Victor up and having him listen to this very reassuring conversation. The next few hours, as our gloves and socks dried by the fireplace, I listened in to fellow hikers’ conversations, most about the terrible weather today and how everyone was taking a day off to rest and attempt the hike when the weather improves. I kept wondering about the ten other people who came on the ferry with us and whether they were still attempting the hike or had also turned back.
Once we made it back to Gjendesheim on the ferry, we spotted one of them by the lodge, a solo Finnish girl who sat in front of us on the morning ferry. I struck up a conversation and asked her if she hiked the whole way and what the views were like.
“It took me 7 and a half hours,” she said, “But only because I didn’t make any stops, because I couldn’t stop, because of the rain and the cold. Couldn’t see anything, no views anywhere.”
We commiserated about the weather, and I wished her better weather and happier hiking in the future. And mentally wished it for us as well.
