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Striking riverside view in Trondheim
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Visiting Norway has been an incredible experience, but it seems every paradise has a darker side. One of Norway's biggest drawbacks are the prices which feel particularly punishing to the sinners amongst us: literally paying penance. Courtney devilishly grabbed a 6 pack of the grocery store's cheapest beer, expecting to pay the displayed equivelant price of $3.50 only to discover at checkout that the price was per beer, the entire 6 pack costing over 20 dollars. Ouch! - please forgive us for we have sinned. I reckon the other drawback might be the weather: we spent the rest of our trip mostly tortured by the rain (and winter's short days sound grim to say the least.) Fortunately, we've been able to make the best of it. Trondheim is a beautiful city with good places to go out, Audun makes a spectacular coffee, Torstein's friends and family are cool, and we could boulder at Hell, a nearby limestone cliff steep enough to be sheltered from the rain. It seems even when we're sinners stuck in hell, life manages to be pretty damn good. - rp
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Michi on Eat the Rich: challenging and interesting limestone moves at Hell
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(click on photos to enlarge)
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Michi and Torstein keeping warm at the fireside in Hell
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Sessions lasting late into the night: Michi climbing at Sila with a fjord in the background
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Sometime during our week of play in Romsdal, we got a call from Michi Tresch, just returned from South Africa, eager to fly up to Norway and join our small brigade. We were immediately psyched: something about the group's chemistry just seemed to click. The last time the group of us had gotten together (Christmas 2000) we had one of my most memorable climbing experiences running around the Buttermilk country. A week after his call, hoping for a recurring reaction, we were excitedly picking Michi up in Torstein's home city, Trondheim, preparing for the next stage of our adventure.
We set off in a torrent of rain along with 3 of Torstein's friends: Mats Mosti, Lars Erik Halvorsen, and Audun Bratrud (convinced to ditch out on school). An auspicious start since if anything could get in our way, it would be the Norwegian weather. We crawled through an endless rain storm to the small town of Mo i Rana, some 6 hours north of Trondheim. A mindnumbing drive, due entirely to Norway's ridiculously low speed limits (the government hopes to eliminate all roadway deaths, seemingly at the expense of the benefits of motorized travel). We arrived stiff and tired at Mats's friend's apartment (Sten, the cop) and spent the evening nervously thumbing through climbing magazines, hoping for a break in the weather. Thankfully, our prayers were answered when the weather miraculously cleared on the following day. We launched head first into a magical 5 day experience, spending the day at nearby Sila, a beautiful locale which set the standard for our trip. We charged late into the night, devouring slopers, edges, roofs, aretes, and dynos, many of them first ascents, all on impeccable granite with stunning surroundings. Fully buzzing.
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Mats fighting to hold the swing on a gaudy new dyno at Straumvassbotn
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We then moved further north past the artic circle to Fauske, Mats's hometown, to stay in his family's home. Having grown up in the area, Mats architected the entire adventure. Ironically enough, Mats discovered bouldering through the military. While my other friends complain about required Norwegian military service or find ways to avoid it, Mats had landed a plumb assignment as the assistant to a recreation director keen on bouldering. It meant Mats spent much of his year obeying his commander's orders by joining him for extended lunchtime boulder sessions on the facility wall or by accompanying him out to the boulders when the weather was just too damn good. Mats ended his year long required service having acquired a love for bouldering, and soon discovered the potential in the areas surrounding his hometown. A week prior to our trip, in a drunken state, Mats had assured me (and reassured me and reassured me) with his characteristic enthusiasm that we would visit areas with endless potential, beautiful rock, and spectacular settings. All his drunken promises proved true. Mats played perfect tour guide, and whenever the words "very nice project" came out of his mouth, it was like music to our ears.
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Endless granite at the appropriately dubbed "Magic Valley" (aka Gjærdalen)
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Mats first showed us Straumvassbotn, his home area, before we drove a bit further north to explore Gjærdalen, a seemingless endless "Magic Valley" of granite. The entire 5 days was spent in a manic energy flux of beautiful new ascents, striking surroundings, and a blissful state of happiness. Each day ended in exhaustion, but each morning somehow found us again refreshed and ready to charge. All our energies mixed and combined, everyone seemingly on the same wavelength, or perhaps harmonic wavelengths, thoroughly drunk on the magic in the air. The whole reaction finally ran its coarse when the rains returned, putting an end to the momentum; however, not before having yet again enjoyed another one of my most memorable climbing experiences. - rp
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Magic Valley perfection: Torstein enjoying the committing climbing, perfect rock, stunning line, and spectacular surroundings
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(click on photos to enlarge)
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Audun and Kona getting ready to set off across the surreal ground colors in Magic Valley
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One of the many beautiful granite boulder problems in Romsdal
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Somewhere close to two years ago, in a backwoods grocery store near Joe's Valley, Utah, I made a vague promise to one of my closest climbing friends, Torstein Raum Eide, that I'd visit him in Norway to explore the bouldering in his home country. We'd been hooking up repeatedly over the previous couple years, both in Font and in the States, and our climbing sessions always seemed to have the perfect energy. I'd been itching to run around Europe for a while, making dreamy ex-patriate plans and working to scrape together the money; so it all seemed somehow feasible. I queried him about seasons and decided to stay for the month of September, 2002 (after the summer bugs had died out but before the cruel northern winter had set in.) Well here Kona and I were (Courtney having gone back to the States for Krissy's wedding), 2 years later, rocketing up the german autobahn, crashing out across the car's front seats in some remote Denmark rest area, and finally spending 8 hours in the pet room on a ferry to Olso feeling particularly psyched about making my date with destiny.
Torstein met me on my arrival, and played perfect host for the remainder of the trip. He took me home for a wonderful dinner with his family and my first chance to meet the fourth member of our team: Tim, his 13(?) year old black Terrier. The following day, the four of us crammed into the car and set off on the beginning of our adventure: Tim riding under Torstein's feet and Kona sat on top of the bags in back. First stop: Romsdal, a beautiful granite valley peppered with small clusters of boulders at the bases of the magnificent walls which line its sides. Each cluster is different, offering different holds, patterns, shapes, and appearances. We spent the duration of our stay simply cruising up and down the valley from morning to night, playing endlessly amongst the beautiful blocks. The dogs seemed equally happy, and Tim soon adopted the leadership role. He had quickly put Kona in his place, and was soon crashing out on my bed, doing his best to show me where I ranked in the pack. Any attempts on my part to talk back were generally met with a scowl and a growl. Cleary just a tough fascade, Tim was ten times more playful than stern, spending his days happily teaching Kona to eat blueberries off the bush or running down to the river, trying to con the salmon fishermen out of their catch.
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The view from the shoulder across to the front face of the Troll Wall
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Glancing up from beneath the boulders to admire the striking scenery, it was easy to see why Romsdal is much more known for it's big wall climbing. Above and beyond the rest, it is home to the Troll Wall, a massive ediface whose grand stature presents an imposing figure. A glimpse at the climbing guide reveals only A4 and A5 (aka insecure and dangerous, potentially deadly) climbing up this monster, and the periodic rock falls which thunder down from it's face give some indication as to why. Being boulderers, we, of course, have neither the inclination nor the balls to tackle such an endeavor, but we reckoned we might enjoy the view from the top and decided to spend a day hiking up it's back side (a much lower incline affair.) Soon after setting off on what we hoped would be a 3 hour round trip excursion, we discovered the true nature of the creation: it seems as if mother nature simply piled granite blocks upon grantite blocks into a several thousand foot tall pile. I'd imagine that climbing the face of this rock pile is akin to a game of roulette: you're never quite sure when you might ride the block your pulling on all the way down to the valley floor.
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Tim climbing up and over the endless scree during our Troll Walk
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From our perspective however, marching up the rock pile's backside was much more tiring than deathdefying - an exerice akin to the stairmaster. We spent the entire day highstepping up and onto rocks, blocks, and boulders, climbing one continuous scree field. We finally arrived at the top some 5 hours after setting off, calfs and thighs close to mutiny. None of us suffered more than Tim who, at less than 18 inches tall, must have mantled up and over the course granite blocks more than a thousand times. At the top, he was completely thrashed, pads bloody, nails ripped, hardly able to stand. We spent some time enjoying the views and struggling to imagine the courage of the hardcore base jumpers who travel from around the world to make illegal jumps off the Troll Wall. To us, the jump simply seemed crazy as we failed to imagine how one might gain enough forward momentum to clear the less than vertical face. The true danger lies in the fact that the v-shaped wall leaves only one exit trajectory: vear slighty left or slighty right, and you'll slam into its sides. After marvelling at the leap of faith (which must have felt particularly suicidal for the first brave person to have made the jump), we turned and slowly stumbled our way back down the backside, Tim spending much of the time in Torstein's arms. 9 hours after our departure we finally arrived back at our friend's house where both dogs collapsed. It took Tim more than 3 days before he finally got up again, regained his lovable tough guy spark, and commenced to once again show us who's boss. - rp
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Torstein slowly working his way back down
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(click on photos to enlarge)
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