Lofoten: Day 2

The tail of the storm passed in the night. Opening the tent flap to a cheerful blue sky, what a magical transformation. Wearing only shorts and a warm jacket, I stroll down to the pristine beach, barefoot on the cool sand. Six small tents now circle the bay, heads peering out like meerkats after a dust storm.

Ringed by colossal cliffs, we could be the only people in the world.

A change of plans. Rather than try to work round the base of the cliffs to the next bay, I’ll take the long route, cutting directly up and over the saddle behind my tent, as this is the path others are taking.

There are still large slabs of rock to scramble across, but progress is easier in the dry weather. Groups of day hikers are already starting to descend, so the beach will soon be busy.

After a boggy descent on the far side, it’s relaxing to walk a couple of miles along a quiet road, especially through such a wonderful landscape.

A trail sign points back to Kvalvika Beach through a rugged valley filled with lakes. This is the exit route I originally planned but was warned against. It looks rather spectacular — so many choices.

Leaving the main road, pushing deeper into the valley, the passing camper vans fall away until I have the road to myself.

My path lies through the mountains.

The road fades into a rough track through marshy ground next to a lake, with several streams to cross, making progress slow.

The track enters the trees — rising, falling, twisting and turning over rocks and roots.

A private hut is the perfect place for a quick refuelling stop.

There’s a steep climb up to a broad lake, where a young couple appears from the opposite direction.

“It’s really shitty ahead” says the woman.

That’s not the encouragement I was hoping for.

The lake lies at the bottom of a bowl. How am I supposed to climb out? Smooth black slabs of rock cover most of the hillside, but there’s a green patch in the middle.

As I get closer, a faint path appears, zigzagging up a steep rocky slope.

Nearing the top, I rest on a boulder and look back. I’m not sure I would manage that in the rain.

Crossing the ridge to the next valley, a young woman is taking a bearing. She traversed the mountainside from my destination valley.

”It’s a bastard!”

Is everyone going to swear about my route?

The views are spectacular.

Working my way across the rocky slope, I slip and lean on my left pole, which is unfortunately wedged between two rocks. It somehow angles across my chest and my full weight comes slowly down on it.

CRACK!

Fearing the worst, I inspect the carbon fibre pole, which has snapped near the bottom.

This is a disaster on two counts. My hiking poles support my tent tarp. I also need both poles to navigate the wet terrain. I’ve relied on two poles since my knee injury a couple of years ago.

I have a roll of gaffer tape, so bind the broken pole as best I can. It should keep the tent up, provided the wind is not too strong, but I can’t put any weight on it, so this means hiking with one pole at a snail’s pace.

Reaching the final valley, the plan was to pitch at Horseid Beach, but I’m worried about my slow progress and making the 8am ferry from Kjerkfjorden tomorrow so head inland.

Unfortunately, this means climbing out of the valley, adding ascent to today’s walk. I’m tired and struggling a little, but have no choice.

At the top of the valley, looking back toward the beach, there’s a beautiful spot to pitch, but two tents are already there, and it would be a squeeze for a third. We wave at each other and I push on.

Reaching the pass, the tiny village and ferry stop nestle on the shore below. I’m struggling to find a sheltered spot that is not boggy. Wild camping is prohibited near the houses, so I must find a place soon.

To my joy, there’s a perfect pitch overlooking the village. A flat, dry mound of grass by a stream, partly sheltered by a large rock.

I’m so tired I can’t face cooking, finishing off the last of my fresh provisions. The trail was much tougher than expected, with over 3,600 feet of ascent and descent. The forecast is for a mild night, so the taped pole should hold, and I leave the tent flaps open, falling asleep to the fabulous view and cool breeze.

Date of walk: Thursday 29 August 2024.

Walk distance: 10 miles.