Day 8 - Ljosland to Pytten barn
10/01/22 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME…
Left Ljosland 10.05 - Arrived Pytten barn 17.00. Distance circa 10km. (This is more accurate than the 16km I rather inaccurately reported on the radio).
Weather: Heavy cloud with steady snow on top of 25-30cm of snow in previous 24 hrs. Wind increasing 10-15kmph
Visibility; fair, but flat light.
Snow conditions: Drifts of up to 1.5m. Temperature rising, snow wet, but ok initially. Temp: Minus 5 degrees c
Précis: A tough, long day.
We had planned on taking a few days out and letting the forecast bad weather pass. However, we woke and the weather didn’t look too bad. This change of mind meant that we didn’t leave Ljosland until after 10am. A bit late considering the conditions, but we were keen to get started.
About an hour out of Ljosland along the easy trail.
We said goodbye to Tatinka, who turned up just as we were leaving. She has been incredibly kind and generous during our stay. A big thanks goes out to this generous hearted lady.
We made good progress for the first 5-6km, making 3 km per hour. Pretty good for such stunningly average (to poor. That’s me) skiers with such heavy rucksacks (around 18kg) but we were on a marked trail.
The lakes are frozen enough to ski across, (though you can’t stop yourself thinking, “What if?”). However, the rivers and streams linking the lakes are open and look forbidding. Black cold water rushes amongst snow and ice covered boulders. The side of the rivers consist of large boulders covered in snow and beyond the banks rise steeply above in a tangle of low bushes. .
Faced with a wide open stretch between two lakes we decided our best option to get past was on the left hand bank.
David, moments before the ice gave way.
We were forced up against a cliff where we hoped the ice was strong enough to hold us. It wasn’t. Suddenly it gave way and David’s foot went into the water. He threw himself across the gap and fortunately landed on some ice strong enough to hold him. The problem he now had was that his ski was trapped, front and back under the ice.
Now I’m no expert in body language, but I could tell that he was not a happy bunny.
At least the stream is shallow here. He freed himself after a few minutes but at the expense of one very cold hand and very wet foot. The next problem was all mine. I couldn’t go forward, David had seen to that, and I couldn’t simply reverse as it was too steep and too narrow for a kick turn. I had no choice but to remove my skis, carefully turn them and me round and put them back on. After a few minutes fighting with frozen bindings I got one ski on just as part of my ice shelf gave way. This is not how I had planned my birthday. Fortunately I got away with an only slightly wet foot and managed to ski round, back across the frozen lake and negotiate the right hand bank, which was slightly, but only slightly, less scary. I was very relieved when David appeared ahead of me as we had been out of contact for some time.
The ‘fun’ continues
Not long before dark we come to a narrowing of the valley. The river bank ahead is a maze of large boulders. The bank beyond that is steep and thick with tangled brush. This final kilometre took well over an hour and we are soon negotiating it by head torch in the dark. David did a fantastic job of finding the least dreadful route.
Finally, past a small unfrozen lake, we reach a couple of buildings. Pytten farm and the barn that we understand is not locked. It has now been dark for half an hour.
It’s not much, but it beats sleeping outside
The barn is open. Yay! It is filled with the detritus of many years of farming. Part is given over to a rather old looking hay stack. Otherwise it is crammed with stuff. There is lots of machinery, tools, and not much floor space. David baggsies a spot by the door (in the snow! Weirdo!!) I elect to kip under the table that the kindly farmer has left, along with two chairs, for winter skiers just such as us.
Birthday boy
It’s slightly above freezing in the barn, but warmer than our tent and I spend some time melting snow for hot drinks and our dehydrated meals while poor David tries to dry out his boots and wet trousers.
At the end of a rather eventful first day on skis I get to celebrate my birthday with a tot of whiskey that I had secreted at the bottom of my bag. I also open a birthday letter from the lovely Mrs P, which makes me miss her all the more. It contains a couple of flimsy pieces of paper made into birthday cards from her and her family. It may not be a conventional birthday, but it’s certainly a memorable one.
