(English version below.) Fjellet i mitt liv!
Fjell og natur har tiltrukket meg så lenge jeg kan huske. Jeg har vært med på tur siden jeg satt i bæremeis og var stor nok til å holde hodet oppe av meg selv. Jeg debuterte som fluefisker før toårsdagen min. Jeg stabbet langs Lågen ved Lesja med det ytterste leddet på ei bambusraje og bleia full av møkk. Fisk fikk jeg nok ikke før noen år senere, men en lidenskap var født og ble utviklet gjennom hele oppveksten. Fra 6-7 årsalderen var jeg med på jakt. Oppe tidlig om morran og ut i skogen. Ofte kunne det være kaldt for en liten pjokk. Jeg hadde formaninger om å være stille og holde meg bak far. Og det gjorde jeg. Rett som det var stoppet han opp for å lytte, mens jeg ble lydig stående rett bak. Gjerne i et blauthøl eller en iskald bekk iført mine gummistøvler. Nå har aldri jeg hatt lett for å fryse, men må nok innrømme at jeg har bitt i meg neglespretten mer enn en gang der jeg trasket i hælene på opphavet.
Om somrene var vi på ferietur på fjellet. Hele familien pluss mormor og bestefar. Hemsedalsfjellet, Lesja, Espedalen, Stor-Elvdal og mange andre steder. En sommer leide vi hytte på Storhøliseter i det som kalles Gausdal Vestfjell. Ei uke med fisking og fjellturer. En dag skulle vi gå oppover mot Storhøpiggen rett bak setra. Bestefar ville heller fiske, og tok veien mot elva istedet. Vi kom aldri på toppen. Bror var bare 4-5 år tror jeg. Far hadde isjias. Mormor hadde småsko som knapt nok dugde til å krysse stuegulvet, og vi gikk mot toppen i ura utenfor der stien gikk. Så vi snudde. Men den turen har alikevel betydd uendelig mye for livet mitt senere. Jeg fikk toppfeber da. Noe som nok er uhelbredelig. Jeg klarer ikke å gå rundt en topp. Jeg må oppom for å se meg rundt før jeg labber ned igjen. Nesten 30 år senere kjøpte jeg ei bok av Erik W. Thommesen som heter «Kremtopper i Norge» Han beskrev Storhøpiggen som det fjellet som startet hans lidenskap for fjelltopper, og som hele livet hadde betydd noe spesielt for ham. Da gikk det opp for meg at dette gjald jo også for meg. Det var der oppe det startet for meg også. Jeg hadde sikkert ikke ofret toppen en tanke på over 20 år, men nå kom minnene tilbake. En godværsdag sist sommer dro jeg oppover, og gikk opp på toppen av Storhøpiggen. Og det var en spesiell følelse å stå på toppen og skue videre innover mot Jotunheimen, Dovrefjell, Rondane og flere av de andre kjente fjellområdene. På en måte var det noe som falt på plass. Det var fint å minnes gleden jeg hadde følt over turene i barndommen. Jeg trodde jeg skulle føle glede og melankoli over endelig å ha fullført noe jeg begynte på for over 30 år siden. Men på toppen så skjønte jeg at det var ikke snakk om å fullføre noe som helst. Jeg kom endelig på toppen, men det i seg selv er bare en del av noe større. Det var ingen seier å endelig ha klart det. Toppen er enkel. Men det var minnene som betød noe denne turen. Jeg husket så godt denne turen for mange år siden. Hva som rørte seg oppi hodet og hvor skuffa jeg var da vi måtte snu like under toppen. På en måte så ble jeg bevisst på noe som langt på vei hadde gjort meg til den jeg er i dag. Hvor mye turen den gangen skulle bety senere i livet og hvordan den har preget meg.
Noen år senere da jeg var midt i tenårene så fikk familien leid ei seter i Rendalen på åremål. Den lå et par kilometer fra Trysilelva ved grensa til villmarksparadiset Engerdal. Det ble mange fine somre og vintre der oppe med fisking og turer. Men halvannen mil nord for setra ligger det et fjell. Et stort fjell! Et fjell som jeg i de siste årene har betegnet som «fjellet i mitt liv!» Rendalssølen! En gigant av et fjell som rager 1000 meter over terrenget rundt. Jeg lærte av bygdefolket der oppe at når du kom opp lia fra Åkrestrømmen og fikk øye på fjellet, så måtte lua av. Sølen betyr noe spesielt for de som bor rundt den. Og det er noe spesielt med dette fjellet. Kanskje er det den dominerende størrelsen og den isolerte beliggenheten. Kanskje er det de rolige slake liene oppover som brått brytes av de voldsomme stupene mot nord. Det er noe trygt over Sølen. Udramatisk, men samtidig voldsom og mektig.
Jeg husker min første tur til toppen. Jeg hadde med telt og skulle overnatte i fjellet. Hadde selvfølgelig pakket med alt for mye så sekken veide nok drøye 20 kilo. Det er et stykke å gå før du kommer inn til selve fjelltoppen. Men endelig kom jeg opp til Skardet og tjernet som ligger der. Da ble det en rast og litt mat før jeg gikk mot toppen. Sekken tok jeg med, dum som jeg var. Var ikke sikker på om jeg skulle gå samme vei ned igjen. Men opp kom jeg og for en utsikt!! Følte jeg kunne se halve Norge og mye av Sverige. Og det stemmer faktisk langt på vei. Sølen har en av de videste utsikter i landet. I Sør-Norge er det bare Gaustatoppen og Høgevarde som har videre utsikt. Vel nede fant ut at jeg skulle gå gjennom Skardet og inn i Sølenholet på baksiden. Det ble en lang tur. Vanskelig ur gjorde at jeg måtte gå temmelig mange høydemeter ned før jeg gikk opp igjen. Inne i Sølenholet sto jeg ved foten av stupet under toppen. 700 meter nesten rett opp. Nå var det fremdeles bare ettermiddag så jeg ville gå tilbake å slå opp teltet ved tjernet. Det ble en slitsom tur tilbake. Bæringa av en tung sekk opp på toppen og ned igjen hadde kostet. Og regnet kom da jeg hadde kommet meg på plass i teltet. Men natta ble god. Sov godt som jeg alltid gjør i telt. Dagen etter var regnet borte, og i strålende vær kunne jeg gå ned til setra igjen.
Det har blitt mange turer på Sølen senere. Minst et par ganger i året må jeg opp dit. Nå har vi ikke lenger setra og det er litt synd. Men jeg tar ofte turen på gamle trakter for å gå tur eller fiske. Villmarka i Nord-Østerdalen er noe helt spesielt. Femundsmarka er jo mest besøkt i området, men det finnes mer enn nok av minst like flott natur i nærheten der du kan være helt alene uten å vasse i folk og spor etter dem Og midt i dette riket ligger Sølen. Rolig og uforanderlig og passer på. Trygg og mektig! Fjellet i mitt liv!
English version:
I have little time so I have used google-translator. I will apologize for all typing, and grammatical errors. Hope you understand most of it anyway.
I have little time so I have used google-translator. I will apologize for all typing, and grammatical errors. Hope you understand most of it anyway.
The mountain of my life!
Mountains and nature has attracted me as long as I can remember. I've been on tour since I sat in the back frame and was big enough to hold my head up by myself. I debuted as a fly fisherman before my two years birthday. I'm stumped along the river Lågen in Lesja with the outer joint on a bambusstick and the diaper full of shit. Fish, I didnt get until some years later, but a passion was born and developed throughout childhood. From 6-7 years old I was participated on hunting. Up early in the morning and into the woods. Often it could be cold for a little toddler. I had the admonitions to be quiet and stay behind my father. And I did. All at once he stopped up to listen, while I was standing obediently just behind. Certainly in a marsh or an icy creek wearing my rubber boots. Now I have never been easy to freeze, but have to admit that I have been quiet about feeling very cold more than once where I walked on the heels of origin.
In the summers, we were on holiday in the mountains. The whole family plus Grandma and Grandpa. Hemsedalsfjellet, Lesja, Espedalen, Stor Elvdal and many other places. One summer we rented a cabin on Storhøliseter in what is called Gausdal Vestfjell. A week of fishing and hiking. One day we go up against Storhøpiggen right behind the farm. Grandpa would rather fish and took the road towards the river instead. We never got on top. Brother was only 4 years old or something. Father had sciatica. Grandmother had summer shoes that barely make the cut to cross the living room floor and we went to the top of the scree beyond where the trail went. So we turned around. But the trip has still meant infinitely more to my life later. I got a fever state that enough is incurable. I can not go around a peak. I have to get up there to see me around until I paws down. Almost 30 years later I bought a book by Erik W. Thommesen called "Cream Tops in Norway" He described Storhøpiggen as the mountain that started his passion for mountain tops, and that it all his life had meant something special for him. Then it dawned on me that this was the same for me. It was up there it started for me too. I had certainly not offered the top a thought for over 20 years, but now the memories came back. A nice day last summer, I drove up and went to the top of Storhøpiggen. And it was a special feeling to stand on top and look forward towards the Jotunheimen, Dovre, Rondane and several other famous mountains. In a way, it was something that fell into place. It was nice to remember the joy I had felt over the tours in childhood. I thought I would feel joy and melancholy over the final finishing something I started over 30 years ago. But on top then I realized that there was no question of completing anything. I was finally on top, but that in itself is just a part of something bigger. There was no victory to have finally done it. The top is simple. But it was those memories that meant something this trip. I remembered so well this trip many years ago. What stirred up in the head and how disappointed I was when we had to turn back just below the summit. In a way, I was aware of what had really made me who I am today. How much time the trip would mean later in life and what it has done with me.
A few years later when I was mid teens then got the family rented a farm in Rendalen for a fixed term. It was a few miles from Trysil River at the border of wilderness paradise Engerdal. There were many fine summers and winters up there with fishing and hiking. But a few kilometersl north of the farm there is a mountain. A big mountain! A mountain that I'm in the last few years have described as "the mountain in my life!" Rendalssølen! A giant of a mountain that rises 1,000 meters above the surrounding terrain. I learned from local people up there that when you came up the hill from the Åkrestrømmen and saw the mountain, the cap should off head. Sølen has special meaning for those who live around it. And there is something special about this mountain. Maybe it is the dominant size and isolated location. Perhaps it is the quiet gentle slopes upward as abruptly broken by the tremendous cliffs to the north. There is something safe over Sølen. Undramatic, yet fierce and powerful.
I remember my first trip to the top. I had a tent and would stay in the mountains. Had of course packed with too much so the backpack weighed probably about 20 kilos. It is a way to go before you get into the mountain. But finally I came up to the gorge and the lake which is located there. Then there was a rest and some food before I went to the summit. I took the sack with me, stupid I was. Was not sure if I should go the same route back down. But I came up and what a view! Felt I could see half of Norway and much of Sweden. And it is indeed not far from truth. Sølen has one of the broadest prospects in the country. In southern Norway there are only Gaustatoppen and Høgevarde that have further views. Safely down I found out I would going through the gorge and into Sølenholet on the back of the mountain. It was a long trip. Difficult scree meant I had to go quite some meters down before I went up again. Inside Sølenholet I stood at the foot of the cliff below the summit. 700 meters almost straight up. Now it was still only the afternoon so I would go back to pitch tent at the lake. It was a tiring trip back. Carrying a heavy bag on the top and back down had cost. And the rain came when I had gotten myself into the tent. But the night was good. Sleep well like I always do in a tent. The next day was rained off, and in glorious weather, I could go down to the farm again.
There have been many trips to Sølen later. At least a couple times a year do I have to get up there. Now we no longer rent the farm and it is a pity. But I often take the trip on the area to go hiking or fishing. Wilderness in North Østerdalen is something special. Femundsmarka is the most visited in the area, but there are plenty of equally beautiful scenery in the vicinity where you can be alone without having to wade in the population and traces of them. And right in middle of this kingdom is Sølen. Quiet and unchanging and fit. Safe and powerful! The mountain in my life!
Mountains and nature has attracted me as long as I can remember. I've been on tour since I sat in the back frame and was big enough to hold my head up by myself. I debuted as a fly fisherman before my two years birthday. I'm stumped along the river Lågen in Lesja with the outer joint on a bambusstick and the diaper full of shit. Fish, I didnt get until some years later, but a passion was born and developed throughout childhood. From 6-7 years old I was participated on hunting. Up early in the morning and into the woods. Often it could be cold for a little toddler. I had the admonitions to be quiet and stay behind my father. And I did. All at once he stopped up to listen, while I was standing obediently just behind. Certainly in a marsh or an icy creek wearing my rubber boots. Now I have never been easy to freeze, but have to admit that I have been quiet about feeling very cold more than once where I walked on the heels of origin.
In the summers, we were on holiday in the mountains. The whole family plus Grandma and Grandpa. Hemsedalsfjellet, Lesja, Espedalen, Stor Elvdal and many other places. One summer we rented a cabin on Storhøliseter in what is called Gausdal Vestfjell. A week of fishing and hiking. One day we go up against Storhøpiggen right behind the farm. Grandpa would rather fish and took the road towards the river instead. We never got on top. Brother was only 4 years old or something. Father had sciatica. Grandmother had summer shoes that barely make the cut to cross the living room floor and we went to the top of the scree beyond where the trail went. So we turned around. But the trip has still meant infinitely more to my life later. I got a fever state that enough is incurable. I can not go around a peak. I have to get up there to see me around until I paws down. Almost 30 years later I bought a book by Erik W. Thommesen called "Cream Tops in Norway" He described Storhøpiggen as the mountain that started his passion for mountain tops, and that it all his life had meant something special for him. Then it dawned on me that this was the same for me. It was up there it started for me too. I had certainly not offered the top a thought for over 20 years, but now the memories came back. A nice day last summer, I drove up and went to the top of Storhøpiggen. And it was a special feeling to stand on top and look forward towards the Jotunheimen, Dovre, Rondane and several other famous mountains. In a way, it was something that fell into place. It was nice to remember the joy I had felt over the tours in childhood. I thought I would feel joy and melancholy over the final finishing something I started over 30 years ago. But on top then I realized that there was no question of completing anything. I was finally on top, but that in itself is just a part of something bigger. There was no victory to have finally done it. The top is simple. But it was those memories that meant something this trip. I remembered so well this trip many years ago. What stirred up in the head and how disappointed I was when we had to turn back just below the summit. In a way, I was aware of what had really made me who I am today. How much time the trip would mean later in life and what it has done with me.
A few years later when I was mid teens then got the family rented a farm in Rendalen for a fixed term. It was a few miles from Trysil River at the border of wilderness paradise Engerdal. There were many fine summers and winters up there with fishing and hiking. But a few kilometersl north of the farm there is a mountain. A big mountain! A mountain that I'm in the last few years have described as "the mountain in my life!" Rendalssølen! A giant of a mountain that rises 1,000 meters above the surrounding terrain. I learned from local people up there that when you came up the hill from the Åkrestrømmen and saw the mountain, the cap should off head. Sølen has special meaning for those who live around it. And there is something special about this mountain. Maybe it is the dominant size and isolated location. Perhaps it is the quiet gentle slopes upward as abruptly broken by the tremendous cliffs to the north. There is something safe over Sølen. Undramatic, yet fierce and powerful.
I remember my first trip to the top. I had a tent and would stay in the mountains. Had of course packed with too much so the backpack weighed probably about 20 kilos. It is a way to go before you get into the mountain. But finally I came up to the gorge and the lake which is located there. Then there was a rest and some food before I went to the summit. I took the sack with me, stupid I was. Was not sure if I should go the same route back down. But I came up and what a view! Felt I could see half of Norway and much of Sweden. And it is indeed not far from truth. Sølen has one of the broadest prospects in the country. In southern Norway there are only Gaustatoppen and Høgevarde that have further views. Safely down I found out I would going through the gorge and into Sølenholet on the back of the mountain. It was a long trip. Difficult scree meant I had to go quite some meters down before I went up again. Inside Sølenholet I stood at the foot of the cliff below the summit. 700 meters almost straight up. Now it was still only the afternoon so I would go back to pitch tent at the lake. It was a tiring trip back. Carrying a heavy bag on the top and back down had cost. And the rain came when I had gotten myself into the tent. But the night was good. Sleep well like I always do in a tent. The next day was rained off, and in glorious weather, I could go down to the farm again.
There have been many trips to Sølen later. At least a couple times a year do I have to get up there. Now we no longer rent the farm and it is a pity. But I often take the trip on the area to go hiking or fishing. Wilderness in North Østerdalen is something special. Femundsmarka is the most visited in the area, but there are plenty of equally beautiful scenery in the vicinity where you can be alone without having to wade in the population and traces of them. And right in middle of this kingdom is Sølen. Quiet and unchanging and fit. Safe and powerful! The mountain in my life!
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