A traverse of Lyngen, Part 2 of 3, Nordkjosbotn to Lyngseidet

Bagging a summit in the Lyngen Alps

13th April 2019 - Nordkjosbotn - Gurgela, a warm up day

I was carrying what felt to be the heaviest pack in the world.  It was full, with skis strapped to the side and all 6kgs of tent on the top.  I could manage, fresh and full of energy for the start, it was carrying the pulks and bag of food in my hands that were trying to tire me out.  2km later we reached the snow and had a pleasant warm up on a well skied summer road towards Storvatnet.  Continuing on in the fog we route found our way towards Gurgela.  The wind picked up and set us to finding a sheltered campsite.

Checking the map to try and locate the valley we needed to leave the road on

"Chris... hold on... there's a change in colour of the snow there...!" and he disappeared.  S**T, I thought.  Cautiously I traversed along the edge of this subtle colour change, my eyes desperately trying to see more, throwing snow ahead of me, until I spotted him.  Fortuitously he had found a great campsite behind a 4m windlip, and was unscathed.  It would be the first of many times on this trip I was thankful to have just spent several months winter walking in Scotland.

Our first campsite, you can just about make out the windup on the RHS that Chris 'hopped' over!

14th April 2019 - navigating in the white room

Well, I might as well have stayed in the Highlands!  I plugged two coordinates into my Garmin Fenix GPS watch as key points to skin through on the flatter shelf above camp, between that, feeling the contours and following compasses we made headway.  The slope we were aiming for should take us on a maximum of 25degrees or so to Rieppevatnet, crossing below slopes that were so steep they shouldn't pose a threat to us.

Ski touring in the white room, somewhere on Lyngen

Heading eastwards we were skinning on compass bearings to changes in contour features trying to stay between the valley and the edge (which we didn't want to fall off).  Upon reaching the col we finally had enough visibility to be helpful and made as much progress as we could, northwards in the poor weather forecast.  After an exciting and rather steep sided valley bushwhack we camped just West of Elvevoll.

Visibility after the col.  Our camp still a way ahead of us

15th April 2019 - first day of sunshine

Another travel day.  We left camp at 8:30 and headed up towards the shelf beside Imajávri.  Weaving our way up behind Øvervatnet we remained on pleasantly angled slopes and the sun was shining.    

Skiing across to reach the safest skiable slope with our pulks.

The crux of the day was still to come, curving carefully around Middagshaugen we found the section we were aiming to ski down after a couple of brave kick turns.  The ski reminded us of what was to come later in the trip, steep (for pulks - approaching 30degrees) and the added fun of some tree weaving the lower we got!

One more ascent took us to the next shelf along with Lomvatnet on it.  Here we met our first people since starting out, a group of cross country skiers who were doing a bit of unsuccessful ice fishing!  It was a beautiful place to spend the evening, views of the fjords and our journey so far.

Camp on the shelf, complete with a patch of earth and ski boot drying racks!

16th April 2019 - Daltinden, our first ski peak of the trip

Not only did our campsite have a good view but it positioned us at the start of the ski descent into Lyngsdalen, reducing the number of changeovers we would need to do.  The ski was quite a wake up!  Focussed navigation led us to the shallower angled track above the Storfjorden, which turned into a hair raising icy track.

Leaving camp (yes that is a team member waving from the toilet!)

Weaving our way through the village we soon met other skiers, Daltinden, our ski peak for the day, was one of the most popular in the area.  Client's passed us bemused, whilst their guides asked us what we were doing.  Most people looked at us like we were crazy and all of the locals engaged us in talk about snow conditions and avalanches.  I found it vaguely amusing that we were travelling nearly as fast as some of these groups, despite our loads!

Steve taking his pulk for a walk in Lyngsdalen

Stashing our pulks, we were set loose and followed the gravy train to the summit.  Steep in places, and still quite weary of the snow pack, we often took our own line, all the while considering what would happen if each bit of the slope went.  It was a well skied route, but the fickle nature of PWLs (persistent weak layers), and the raising temperatures made me alert.

On our way to the summit, behind Chris, at the front, you can see the glacier snout that we will be aiming to cross under before heading along the valley on the right

Team summit shot - with thanks to someone else on the mountain

Spring snow and the odd section of wind affected power brought us happily down from the summit.  We found home for the night west of the Lyngsdalshytta, on a patch of snow that didn't appear to be either on a stream or below an avalanche prone slope.

Chris enjoying the ski descent of Daltinden

17th April 2019 - the technical crux - could we get past the snout of Vestbreen?

Making our way towards the glacier I hoped that we would be able to find a way through to the valley with Bredalsvatnet.  We knew the area would be steep, but we were unsure if we would be able to get through safely, if double carries might be required, or if there would be complete snow coverage.  One of the advantages of having such good mobile phone signal meant that we could zoom into the latest map on the Varsom app and see the gradient of the terrain to work out a few possible routes.  Looking across at the terrain from yesterday's peak only served to tell us that it might be passable.

Our first view of the Glacier, the sections in pink show earlier avalanches as the camera I used isn't the best at picking detail out in low light conditions

Avalanches from the heat of the previous days were visible besides our route.  We took the shallowest route possible and eventually had a good view of the end of the glacier.  Mini serac collapse covered the terrain.  Opting to spread out, despite the cooler morning air, we traversed this section efficiently, and continued to the steeper slope on the right.  Arduous kick turns followed to the thin rock line of semi covered moraine forced us across to the other side.  Finally the slope angle reduced enough to allow us a much needed picnic stop, and we were through.

Our route from camp shown via the orange dotty line, Photo by Steven taken the day before on Daltinden

You can just spot our final team member about to arrive at our rest stop having crossed through the last steeper section by the rock behind him.

Passing through the valley we stopped on the edge of a large flattening in the ridge above Dalvatnet, where we would be safe from any avalanches, and gave us enough sunshine for an afternoon nap outside.

The perfect campsite?  Rocks to dry kit on, space to dig a kitchen area, views of our ski peak tomorrow (back right)

18th April - Rundfjellet, another ski peak

When your main aim is a ski traverse, any peaks skied are a bonus.  Combine this with being able to access a peak, finding a safe route up and down it that is mostly skiable, and getting your timings right so you are able to summit it before weather / temperature changes, whilst not expending so much energy you can't make it to the end of your route; and soon one starts to understand the juggling act.

Traversing across the snow, the sun already quite high in the sky

Views along the skin to Rundfjellet, you can see the plateau we camped on our night before passing through Lyngseidet

Rundfjellet seemed to tick all of the boxes, we left camp (still unpacked) and began a long traverse and ascent around the mountain to the Eastern side of Myrvatnet.  In hindsight it would have been much easier to approach from behind camp, with a short ski down to the lake from the North, but we were aiming to have as little as possible ascent at the time.

Self timer photo on the summit. Photo by Steve

Euan getting the chance to free his heel again

From here there was a shallow valley heading SSW taking under the steep face of the mountain until a pleasant ascent along the South ridge brings you to the summit.  Excellent spring snow and light powder brought us back to the lake, where we opted to skin up the extra 300m enabling a ski straight to camp.  Still feeling quite fresh after a shorter day yesterday the trail breaking felt pleasant, and my legs remained energetic.

Skiing down infront of Rundfjellet

After packing up camp we had one of our best pulk skis of the trip, perfect snow and gradient led us to mushy snow in the valley floor and the poignant reminder of the threat of wet snow avalanches from steeper slopes above.  It also made for hot hard work zig zagging up the short slope to the shelf of Oksefjellet.

Our campsite, clouds always make for atmospheric photos!  Rundfjellet under sunshine on the left.

The following day we would cross the road at Lyngseidet and therefore the halfway point of our traverse.

A traverse of Lyngen, part 1 of 3, how a scenic ferry convinced us to take plan B (sort of!)

Fantastic views on the Lyngen Peninsular

Always have a plan B, and C, D, E... etc...  At least, that's what I tell my clients (and I endeavour to follow this too).  And, to be fair, in my head a plan B in steep skiing terrain is, don't bother.  I guess that is a plan B, but it's probably not the plan you consider when organising a traverse of a specific mountain range, to which you have booked flights to; and most people would have a more skiing orientated plan B rather than just quit.

Walking to Tromso bus station at the start of our journey

Last April a small team of us flew to Tromso with the aim of traversing the Lyngen Peninsular.  Many hours of googling and pouring over maps revealed what could be an incredible route through the high glaciers and mountains of the area including a traverse of Jiehkkevarri.  It would be an arduous but amazing journey over two weeks, 100% self sufficient, pulling our pulks.  Research told me that a few people had more or less completed a traverse of the area (the only camping one I could find sounded like a complete epic of bad weather), some guides offered a variation on it, the 'Lyngen Haute Route'.  Nowhere could I find any record of anyone attempting a higher traverse over the glaciers.  And it was quite difficult to figure out what route previous and advertised groups used.

As you do, for the months preceding a trip, you read the avalanche bulletins and weather reports.  Dipping in and out more frequently the closer you are to departure.  Initially things looked good.  During March there were still persistent weak layers, well, that's nothing new.  For a while it looked like the snowpack might just stabilise and head into a more Springlike cycle.  Then, it just snowed and snowed, and then stopped.  We touched down and found very difficult conditions.

I hate persistent weak layers, how often do you actually know how close you have been to triggering it?  With more than half of our route in prime 35degree avalanche terrain at this height, the answer was simply to avoid it.

The classic Lyngen photo - fjords and mountains

What was our skiable plan B going to be?  Earlier in the month when I realised that plan A looked doubtful, I put all of my spare hours into finding another route.  It was broadly based on the 'Lyngen Trek', a summer hiking route that follows a series of shelves on the East side and then crosses through to the West side of the peninsular.  But... I couldn't find anyone that had skied it, and there were a couple of shorts sections of which I had no idea if we would be able to get through, most notably the end of the Vestbreen Glacier, west of Lyngsdalen.

The Lyngen Trek route marked in green, from The Lyngen Alps by Fri Flyt AS

A look on FATMAP and the Norwegian mapping website revealed that the vast majority of this route would avoid avalanche terrain, and there would be appropriate safe escape routes to a road if we couldn't continue through a more challenging bit.  Phew, what a relief to finally have a plan, that might work.  

Safer travel in a higher risk environment

Researching public transport options, we were able to get a bus from Tromso to Nordkjosbotn; and, the highlight, a ferry back from Nord Lenangen if we arrived on time.  To be honest, after the disappointing reality of having to change our plans, I think the possibility of taking a ferry tour at the end, sold Plan B to us!

The following day we got on the bus in misty weather and began our traverse in Nordkjosbotn.

On our way to find snow somewhere in the outskirts of Nordkjosbotn

Bikepacking in Scotland - Northern Cairngorm Loop

Sunrise on morning 2 of our trip.

Bikepacking has been on my radar for a couple of years now.  It's something that I've read trip reports about, watched youtube videos, and even gone to a Steve Fassbinder lecture (at Backcountry Scotland in Aviemore).  But... I'm pretty bad on a bike.  As a kid the most extreme it got was riding off the kerb onto the road, down dusty flat Norfolk farm tracks, and dodging cars in London.  Skinny tyres, five gears and panniers were my norm.  27.5 (yes, I now remember what size wheels my bike has!) fat tyres, greasy rocks, drops, bog and a really wide handlebar with lots of bags on it, were alien to me.

Bikepacking means eating lots of food

I am the proud owner of a full suspension mountain bike, now fully paid for after months of payments, and a mere 400km of riding clocked up, mostly on forestry roads.  Earlier this year I hurt my heel, putting pay to my running and personal walking, so our annual holiday to Scotland turned into a mountain biking holiday.  Eek.  Most people went on mountain biking holidays once they could ride their local trails, I thought!  I couldn't even get down the Marin trail, and sometimes at work, I hear of novice groups going their during their first week of riding.

Wild camp on the first night

Naturally, three days into our holiday, Jim, my other half (and total mountain biking machine) suggested we go to do part of the Cairngorm Loop.  This is a 290km long bike packing route in two (or three) loops around the entire national park.  It is a classic, contains single track, hill roads, hike a bike, river crossings and more.  Some people bike it in a day, bikepacking.com recommend four.  Four!, that works out at 72 km a day, plus 1000m of ascent.  I once biked from London to Norfolk... but I took the following day off.  We would do the Northern Loop from Glenmore, and take enough for four days (Jim thought it would take three, I was doubtful).

Pushing up a steep hill track into a 60mph headwind on Day 2

At 134km, 2200m of ascent, including an 8km hike a bike over bog and peat hag that everyone we met described as atrocious, I didn't think we would make it past Braemar.

Beginning in the Glenmore Forest was beautiful, perfect dry trails, Scot's Pines and not too many 
people.  We had a brief pause at Ryvoan bothy before continuing through to Abernethy Forest and the gap of Eag Mhor.  The second forest had trails as narrow as my bike, and I would frequently ride onto the heather from side to side, weaving dramatically, trying to desperately get used to the weight of my handlebars on the narrowest thing I had even ridden on!  

Riding through the forests on Day 1

A piece of heather got caught in Jim's bike and his cassette broke.  We were an hour in, and he could now only use the bottom two gears, and the top four.  The middle ones were bent.  Typical, I thought, we would be finishing our trip before we'd even started, we wouldn't even make it to Braemar.  Maybe there would be a bike shop in Tormintoul.  Carrying on, along the route, we got to the village and stopped for a snack.  Jim suggested we carry on, and see how it went.  Amazing hill roads led us south, along Glen Avon and Builg.  52km later, we set up camp down from the Loch.

Seeking shelter behind the bridge to make breakfast

By the morning of Day 2 the winds had picked up and we were thankful for the shelter of our campsite.  A shortish section of riding up to Loch Builg brought us into the full wrath of the wind.  It was during the single track that followed that we realised that there was absolutely no benefit in attempting to ride the normally ridable against a 60mph headwind for a couple of metres before having to dismount to cross a severe patch of bog or rocks beyond my technical ability.  Later on I was even spat off my bike from a particularly large gust and received an equally impressive bruise on my right buttock!

The cockpit of my bike, Garmin Fenix strapped to the handlebars for easy navigation, and plenty of food in accessible pockets.  The Revelate bag on the front of the harness gave me ample space for map, suncream, midge net and more food.

Brief relief arrived at a bridge, behind which we sought cover from the wind and finally made breakfast (we had delayed our first meal due to the winds at camp and wanting to make headway, as despite our sheltered campsite location, the longer we stayed the windier it became in the morning, and the campsite was only sheltered relative to the wind - It was probably still 40-50mph here!).  Our renewed energy drove us to pedal not only up and along the double track, but down it too!  We only needed to complete our biggest climb of the trip to our highest point, just below 700m, in the worst weather we would encounter!  Thankfully the climb was steep, and thereby even on a calm day we would be pushing!  A group of mountain bikers passed us on their way to Tormintoul and told us how awful the bog to Feshie was - great, another thing to look forwards to!

Jim fixing his seat post which kept dropping further as he rode - not ideal!

Towards the top of the climb the angle eased and we were finally able to ride our bikes again, albeit mine in a very wobbly line matching the gusts.  Lower down we could start to appreciate our surroundings, the winds dropped and the riding was amazing.  Upon reaching tarmac the only thing driving me forwards was the thought of different food at Braemar.  Road riding seemed strangely alien.  Cars, other people, road works and noise all came as a bit of a shock.  Finally we arrived in town and immediately went to the cafe in Braemar Mountain Sports.  Jim treated us to hot lunch and coffee, meanwhile I sat there recovering from the wind, smelling bad and watching everyone as they stopped to look at our bikes with a range of facial expressions; whilst expecting Jim to say ‘shall we look at the bus timetables’.  I also knew that public transport between Braemar and Aviemore was pretty much non existent, and therefore tried not to think about it!

Hot lunch in Braemar

To my amazement, rather than the bus, Jim was then saying, ‘where are we going to camp?’  We bought some more supplies and headed off towards Linn of Dee.  Our aim was to get to the end of the road and then camp at the first sheltered spot, which we hoped was at the edge of the first forest a few kms beyond the car park.  Despite the wind, the ride passed quickly and the spot we’d chosen from the map provided ample space and shelter for the night, with a water source.  After last year’s windy camp in the Cairngorms we both still had some doubt about how long the tent would survive, and whether we were just in a lull, we needn’t have worried, for never once did either of us grab the tent pole in an effort to add rigidity in a sudden gust.

Day 3 brought a beautiful sunrise as the morning light glowed around us.  The winds had dropped and we were on the home stretch.  Packing my bags was easier today, although sharing one headnet between us was nearly entertaining when the wind dropped!  I felt as thought we were starting to get to grips with bikepacking.

Singletrack riding on day 3

Today’s route was split into three distinct sections.  Pleasant double track, 8km of ‘atrocious bog single track’ and good tracks through Glen Feshie.  Navigation was simple and before long we arrived at the single track.  I had visions of being knee deep in bog and peat, barely able to push my bike and taking an hour per km to cover this section, such were the descriptions others had given us.  It was positivity benign in comparison, taking three hours including breaks for water, photos and food.  Perhaps years of running across the hills of Wales had built my bog resilience, or maybe it was just better than I thought it would be!  My only disappointment was that the minute the trail appeared rideable, you would begin, only to turn a corner, or go over a small bump, look ahead, and see a massive puddle or drainage channel built into the path and have to dismount and push.  On the bike, off the bike, on, off, on, off and so forth.  I was stubborn to arrive at the realisation that it was pointless and I should just continue to walk until the 8km ended.

Happy to be back on a track after the bog!

Glen Feshie is as beautiful as it’s hyped up to be.  Full of trees, old and new, winding tracks and water courses.  You wouldn’t be surprised to see bears, lynxes and wolves roaming.  The big river crossings took me by surprise though.  Some of them were over 10m across and knee deep.  A combination of small amounts of rainfall forecast and a presumption that we wouldn’t make it this far meant that I had failed to study the map closely and anticipate how many we would have to do.  Jim later told me the loop was notorious for river crossings!  Three crossings later we were on the home straight and started to discuss whether we would make it back to the van today instead of tomorrow.  Joining the tracks around Rotheimurchus felt awesome as we had always discussed going mountain biking here on previous holidays.  A mixture of tracks, just at the limit of my technical riding took us towards Glenmore.  On the way I managed to fall off a large footbridge into a stream without obtaining a single injury! we cooked a second lunch, and the jelly baby emergency stash was broken into.  

River crossing in Glen Feshie - they were quite big

Exhausted, but happy we arrived at the van ready for a big home cooked dinner.  For the first time in over 7 holidays to Scotland together we had camped longer than one night in a row, and therefore completed a multiday planned adventure, still very much on speaking terms and eager to plan another human powered trip.

Still smiling despite the hardship!

Rannoch Moor to Corrour, a winter walk in Scotland

Sunrise in the Highlands

Breakfast at sunrise

A classic walk across some of the most easily accessible but wild terrain in the SW Highlands of Scotland.  Accessible as there is a train station in the middle of nowhere, however the wilderness is not to be underestimated.

Snowy trees and cold weather giving it an Alpine feel

Arriving at Rannoch Station in the dark at around 9pm I proceeded to head down the road and estate tracks towards the spot I had chosen to bivi for the night, Sròn Leachd a' Chaorainn.  The forecast for the evening was clear skies and no wind, perfect for an opportunity to spend a night under the stars.  As I left the Corrour Estate tracks I trail broke through powdery snow up the hill.  In the distance was what looked like a rather strange silvery white cloud, I later discovered I had seen the Aurora Borealis for the first time.  After a couple of hours plodding uphill I found a pleasant flat spot to sleep for the evening and tucked myself in, in relative luxury as I had brought my foam mat and thermarest for the evening!

Half asleep but happy as I woke up in my bivi spot!

Looking across to Blackwater Reservoir and the Munros beyond

By 7am it was beginning to get light and I could see the mountains all around me, the sunrise at around 8:30 was spectacular, gorgeous alpenglow, the odd cloud in the sky adding to the atmosphere, and I couldn't wait to get going.  Two sachets of porridge and a coffee later, I was on my way.

The summit of Càrn Dearg

If you like false summits, the ridge North to Càrn Dearg (Red Cairn according to Google translate, and with an 'a' instead of 'à' it's red car!), is the walk for you.  An eternity of undulations, breaking trail the entire way ensued.  Finally I reached the Munro and then had the pleasure of seeing some tracks from yesterday leading to Sgòr Gaibhre.  A pleasant stroll over compressed snow and grass brought me to the second Munro and the clouds drew in too.  A feeble attempt at snowing was made, with a light breeze and some fog.  However it was still clear with the sun powering through the clouds at times to leave an eerie wintery look.

Incredible sunny views to the South, you could see across the Southern Highlands perfectly

Attempting to snow, there were dark grey clouds to the west of me, but it remained quite pleasant all day

Continuing to Sgòr Choinnich, I met some other folk and I couldn't quite believe it!  They were doing pretty much the same journey as me but in the opposite direction.  Navigating over the knoll of Meall Nathach Mòr and NW took me over heathery ground towards the Lodge.  A vague quad bike track appeared at times between the snow and vegetation, and a rather exciting river crossing lower down at the new Hydro site took me to the woods.

Below the clouds looking across to Corrour Lodge and Loch Ossian

Crossing at the hydro scheme, you can just make out the wire to hold onto above the concrete!

Another 6km along the edge of Loch Ossian took me to Corrour Station.  It's amazing that this has been operating since 1894.  The Corrour Estate website is worth a read if you're interested in what the current owners are doing environmentally and it certainly seems like they are taking a more forward thinking approach to managing their land.

Corrour Station, in the middle of nowhere! At least there is a shelter to wait in

The station sign at Corrour, just in case you weren't sure you had arrived in the middle of nowhere!

All I can say, is, I will be returning with my skis when there is a base of snow, and to explore Rannoch Moor and the surrounding hills some more.

A frozen Loch Ossian