Ulriken

I had exactly one free day between the end of the Ocean Outlook conference and my flight home. How I was going to spend it was never in question. When you have a free day in Norway, you go on a hike. 

Some of Ulriken's 1333 stairs.

There's a mountain right outside of Bergen called Ulriken, which is a super common hike for locals and tourists alike. You can take a cable car to the top, or you can hike it. If you're crazy, you can jog up Ulriken, and the internet warned me I would see some locals doing so. It was not an exaggeration. I got passed by so many people running up the mountain. Norwegians are insane. 

My plan was to summit Ulriken, then follow the trail across to Bergen's other (smaller) mountain peak, Fløyen. Based on information online, it seemed like it should take me 1 hour to reach the summit and another 4 hours to hike across. That's exactly the length of hike I was looking for, so I packed my bag and set off. 

When you start up Ulriken, you have a false sense of security. Locals are passing you on their morning jog, and some people even have toddlers in their backpacks. There are thin mountain streams tumbling over the rocks. Sure, the trail is a bit steep, but it's basically a walk in the local park.

You're a bit out of breath, maybe two-thirds of the way up, when your idyllic reality shatters. Right in front of you, staring you down, is a staircase. I'm not talking about a few steps carved into a mountainside. I'm talking about 800 m of solid stone stairs. Straight up. Just stairs. For 800 meters. There are 1333 steps in all. 

By the time I reached the summit, I was already tired. It did take me an hour, just as predicted, and the Norwegians hiking alongside me were panting just as hard as I was. But my quads hurt. I took a rest, drank some water, and considered my options. I couldn't just turn around and go back down - the hard part was behind me. No point in turning around right before the trail got easy. 

The trail did not get any easier. When I left the Ulriken summit, trail markers told me it was 12.6 km to my destination, Fløyen. Easy enough, I thought. That's how far I used to bike to work in Stavanger. Not so, my friends, not so. We're not talking about 12.6 km on a flat trail through a meadow. We're talking about 12.6 km scrambling over rocks, watching diligently to protect your ankles and knees, occasionally using your hands for stabilization, and barely being able to find the trail. It was a rough landscape. And oh yeah, it was cold enough to have snow on the ground and so windy I kept my hood up at all times. 

The landscape on Ulriken

Eventually, I started seeing signs for something called "Turnerhytten." I know enough Norwegian to recognize "hytte" as "cabin," so I decided to stop in for a minute. As I approached Turnerhytten, I found another set of trail markers: 11.5 km to Fløyen. I checked my watch. I looked back at the trail marker. I checked my watch again. I had gone just 1.1 km in an hour. 

Time for a new plan. This, friends, is actually the best part of the story. While I grappled with my excruciatingly slow progress to Turnerhytten, three parents, four children, and a dog joined me at the cabin. One of the kids had gotten a wet sock, and all of the kids wanted pancakes. As it turns out, they had been planning to walk to Fløyen too, but a wet-footed child changed that plan. The parents offered that I could follow them down the mountain by another route - "the short way" - and I immediately accepted. Yes, please. 

View out to Bergen from Ulriken

We had a grand time. I chatted with the dad about my work in marine biology and his work as an electrical engineer. One of the moms, Ragnhild, and I bonded over dogs. Ten-year-old Håkon worked up the nerve to answer me a question in English, and the youngest shared some of her candy with me.

In case you were wondering, "the short way" down the mountain still took us about 4 hours. It was a gorgeous route with plentiful views out to the fjord and the wind at our backs. We stopped a few times for snack breaks. Back when I lived in Stavanger, my housemates used to joke about eating Kvikk Lunsj on hikes. It's a candy similar to a Kit Kat, and apparently, it's an absolute staple. If you're Norwegian and you're heading out on a hike, you pack a Kvikk Lunsj. It's basically the law. If you're planning on a super hardcore hike, you also pack an orange. 

In honor of the tradition, I had packed Kvikk Lunsj and an orange alongside my normal array of healthy trail snacks. When we stopped on the trail and my Norwegian companions opened their packs, I nearly laughed out loud. It was Kvikk Lunsj all around! Not just that, but there were sleeves of cookies in 3 different varieties. For as active and healthy and fit as they stereotypically are, Norwegians sure have a sweet tooth on hikes. 

When we reached the bottom of the mountain again, I was tired and satisfied. We rode into town with the light rail (Bybanen), and I bid farewell to my new friends. That hike was the absolute best way to spend a Norwegian Saturday.