The story actually starts in a somewhat divergent fashion. Mikkel, Joe and Runar had already completed a rugged 10-day crossing from the mountains of Sweden, across the border, to Norway. It was a trip we had been planning for months. Unfortunately I’d caught a pretty persistent chest infection in the months leading up to our departure and thus missed the first half of the journey. I would join the boys on the edge of the Rondane National Park, with a training regime under my belt that consisted of sitting on the couch for two months. I would miss meeting Runar, who had to leave for family commitments. So the group that was four, ended up as three, then became two and eventually three again. Thanks to a tenacious snowpack, Mikkel’s original plan needed modifying. And so we would attempt to ride the Rondanestien trail. Somewhere around ten days of riding, from the mountains of the Rondane mountain range to the capital city, Oslo.
I had originally intended to write a blow-by-blow account of our adventure, to accompany these images. However, life got in the way. I made several attempts over the following months to recount all the the highs and lows and intricate minutiae that made up the trip. But one evening in September, sitting at my desk and after some hours of editing and an almost complete rewrite, I held down the delete key until most of the words had been obliterated by the cursor. Time has a way of smoothing the peaks and troughs, blurring the details and leaving only a warm, fuzzy contentment. Looking back through these images all I remember is Mikkel’s audacious plan, and those shared summer days, following that dream.
Heartfelt thanks to Mikkel for orchestrating and inviting me on this adventure, and Joe, for being such a great travelling companions. Joe’s first account of his time in Norway can be found here. Also huge thanks to Jens and Theresa at Bcsport.no for all their support.