Hair today…
Saturday 22nd to Tuesday 25th Jan 2022
Saturday 22nd January I am still resting and icing my knee and ankle, but it’s not all staring at the wall and feeling sorry for myself. We have been invited to the Haugestøl Hotel by Carl, one of David’s old contacts from working in Antarctica. Carl, originally from Mansfield, is married to Alvi (I may have spelled that wrong) the daughter of the owner of this family run hotel.
Carl has been in Norway for 14 years and spends much of his time guiding kite skiing in Norway and Greenland.
Carl picks us up and drives us to the hotel. It’s not technically open just self-service accommodation at this time of year, but he has sorted us out a room so we can stop over and have a beer. We had a really nice evening with Carl, fantastic food, cooked by his wife, the hotel chef, all followed by an incredible cake. The food alone is reason enough for you to book your next summer holiday here immediately.
View from the hotel across the frozen lake
Stu, David and Carl -2 Scotsmen and an English man walk into a bar…
Carl is great. A larger than life character. He asks us some pretty searching questions about our trip. He would be a rubbish poker player. His face gives away his thoughts every time we answer.
Carl’s face gives away his feelings on a variety of topics from our choice of sleeping bags and Davids 20 year old skis, to the amount of calories we are eating when in the hills.
Sunday 23rd January
More chat over a lovely (read: free) breakfast and we are provided with left over Christmas cookies and macaroons to take away. Yum!
We are given a lift back by Carl’s mate Stu. Stu is a kite designer, originally from Scotland leading me to believe that Scotland may be empty. They all seem to be in Norway.
David heads to Geilo to get his skis either serviced and brought back to life after 20 fallow years, or shot. He is hoping for the former as new skis could require re-mortgaging his house. I head out for a short 1.5 mile walk to try out the knee and ankle. The verdict: Not too bad though the ankle is clearly not happy. It feels like the ligaments are rather stretched. The pain does ease off after a while. Which is good and the knee is okay (ish).
Monday 24th Jan
I spend much of the morning in Geilo. Buying supplies at the chemist; ankle strap; bandage etc. and drinking coffee. Then a dash round the supermarket to buy supplies for the next few days and it’s back on the bus followed by a beautiful walk back to the cabin. It has been snowing here all day and the sun makes a brief appearance. David is already back with tales of gale force winds and icy conditions.
I have my daily chat with the inimitable Mrs P. The counselling sessions have ended (she’s too expensive), so what to talk about? Well, Mrs P is intrigued by my new hirsute look. In real/normal life I shave my head and keep my goatie beard very short. I give her a close up of the beard (for want of a better word like “scruffy, abandoned birds nest”) and the ‘long’ hair, but that’s not good enough. She wants to see the back, so I have to point my camera at the back of my head while she takes a photo. Big mistake…
Mrs P finds my new badly tonsured monk look highly amusing.
Ah, the wonders of WhatsApp, face time or whatever it’s called. I bet Shackleton never had this trouble.
Tuesday 25th January
Today is the day I get back on the skis and I’m taking no chances…
What could possibly go wrong?
Well, dear reader, the answer is, nothing could go wrong. I’m only out for 3 hrs, but I cover 13km. Super icy in places, but the knee holds up and the ankle is not too bad.
Still smiling despite having a sign post sticking out of my head.
I ski out with David, but turn back before him as I need to be a bit careful of my injuries. A pleasant ski back with no dramas and a couple of good photo opportunities.
It’s been rather windy of late.
Back at the cabin and the verdict is that the ankle strap works, but gets uncomfortable after a few hours. The knee is a bit uncomfortable, but there is no swelling. I may just live to ski another day.
David returns shortly after dark with 30km under his belt. He looks knackered. It’s his turn to cook. Should I be kind and take his turn? Nah! I’ve got a blog to write.
