In Which I Do Not Appreciate Nature (Enough)

I believe I've mentioned in the past that Husband and I are very bad tourists.

Overall, we don't plan very well.

And the reason is not that we cannot plan well, it's just that in our leisure time, often, we don't want to...*

Which is why we took a cab part of the way to Preikestolen.

This is the view from the back seat of the cab


Preikestolen is one of the major tourist attractions in Norway.

It's a giant cliff about 2000 feet above Lysefjorden, our local fjord, located about an hour or so outside of Stavanger.

In English, Preikestolen means "Pulpit Rock." Some people think it's because it is a flat protrusion out into the fjord, so perhaps it is similar to a kind of stage for a minister.

But at least one source suggested that it's called Pulpit Rock because that is where the ancient people used to sacrifice their offerings to the gods.

It takes about two hours to hike to the top and another two to hike back down. Along the way, it is possible to attract loads of flies. (Just a warning and it was not just us. I promise. The liked everyone. These are equal opportunity flies. I did not know about them before we left home.)

About 100,000 people make the hike every year.

Along the way, we passed group of Asian tourists, geared up, holding parasols and chattering away.

We passed Americans with the very best in North Face-wear.

We passed young kids in sundresses.

There were even some couples, one half of which were well into their third trimester of pregnancy.

It was so hot that women were just shucking off their tops, displaying bikinis as well as lacy Victoria Secret-esque wear.

There were even a few that looked like they were just shopping around town and on a whim decided to hike on up the trail. These were dressed in jeans, cute sandals and frilly tops.

We decided that we would take the ferry, then the bus, which would let up off right at the trail. (I love adventures like this. While I don't want to be with all the peoples all the time. It's fun on occasion.)

But on this day, we neglected to check the bus times. So when we got to the other side of the fjord from Stavanger, we happened to hit the time of day when the buses took an hour break. So the bus dropped us off in a parking lot in a little town about half way there.

So we sat, ate our sandwiches and waited for a cab.

This is the beginning of the trail. I am starting to think that hiking is a better idea in theory than practice.



Which to be clear: I am not lazy and I like nature. I especially enjoy urban hiking, perhaps measured in blocks, as opposed to kilometers straight up.

And I am absolutely pro-nature, especially from a distance.

This is the first third of the trail.



The rocks are of varying sizes and stability. I'm okay with this until I start slipping and hanging onto trees.

(Also, to the people hurrying behind us: You are show-offs. If we were in cars, you would be following too close and I would be tempted to slam on my brakes, especially if I was certain that I could get the car restarted if I stalled. I moved aside once I noticed your hot breath on my neck. Also, you are sweaty and gross.)

I fear that missed some key scenery because I was staring at my feet, hoping to stay upright.



At one point I made Husband promise that he would hack off my foot with a borrowed penknife if I got stuck, instead of leaving me overnight for the wolves and nature things to eat me. He promised, but said that it would not be necessary because, not to worry, he would yank me out with brute force.

This is one of the first open views. I made sure he got me below the brat sign




There are lots of different sceneries along the trail. Some are giant rocks and forests overlooking mountains. Others are wood-y vistas and others are lakes and valleys in open spaces. This is one of those in the middle part of the hike.

Groups of people had stopped to swim or picnic or just sit close (and most likely make out once the hikers were out of eyeshot.)



We're starting to get pretty high up. The views here are lovely, but I am starting to get nervous. I am not sure if it is because I realize we're only about halfway there or because I am about natured-up.

It also could be the flies. Also, we're pretty high up. Seriously. People could fall. (And by people, I mean me. Husband is sure-footed and not clumsy.)



We walked on this little ledge. I gripped the chains with a death grip until we got to the next vista.



Then felt slightly light headed when Husband casually mentioned that the chains are fairly new. Apparently there were no chains the first time he walked up in 2004.

We stayed pretty close to the wall of the mountain until we got to this part.



There were no chains here. Right around the corner is a narrow ledge. The only way across is to wedge a hand in the rock, then wiggle or shuffle across.

I started getting slightly nervous about this. So Husband went across first and reached back and offered his hand.

After surveying the situation close up, I hissed "Move away from me. And shhhhhhhh, be very quiet. I'll be there in a minute."

Not understanding and feeling a bit hurt, Husband stepped back and waited for me to get across. Then I had to explain to him that if I accidentally fell over (and there was a fair chance of that happening, given my general balance issues coupled with the width of the ledge), I intended to go alone.

That he would be safer if he just stayed a good distance back until I made it across.

This of course horrified him.

But really, I love him and, on most days, want him to live. And also, we we needed to be logical. Who would take care of our pack if we both fell over the edge?

He did not see it that way.

This is Husband at the closest point to the edge either of us was allowed.



But don't be fooled into thinking it's at the highest point. This spot was carefully chosen based on the fact that if there was slippage, the rescue could most likely be somewhat easily managed.



And then we turned a corner and there it is.



Okay, I am not meaning to be unappreciative of the natural world, but my first thought was "Is that is?"

I even asked Husband, who confirmed that we had indeed reached Preikestolen.

It's not that big. Seriously.

Really it reminded me of the first time I saw the Statue of Liberty up close and the Mona Lisa.

In all three cases, I was mildly disappointed.

This does not in fact mean that I went all the way to the edge. I did get on my hands and knees and peak over the side a little bit. (And my little bit I mean I crawled over, stopping about five feet from the edge, then craned my neck a little bit. Then rolled back toward the middle.)

This is the view down the fjord.



This is the view of us.



Then we headed back down....




*Okay, to be really really truthful, I kind of want to plan everything, but Husband doesn't. So we compromise. He plans just enough to make me happy and I let some of the details go. Often this is much much fun.

Ski Porn (or Why I am Home Alone)

Our friend Rich loves to ski.

He has about 9,000 different pairs of skiis. There is one for deep powder. And another another for light powder. Another if there may be fat snow. Another for moguls. Another for valleys and yet another pair for short runs. (I exaggerate, but not by much...)

In the basement of their house in Atlanta, there was a room set up with the skiis and a table kitted out so he could clamp the skiis down and wax them and then scrape the wax off of them again.

On the wall next to the door, there was a bottle opener because skiing ---or even just getting ready to skiing--- and beers go together, natch.

Along one side of the room was a couch.

Most importantly, situated with a perfect view from the ski prep table, the couch and the doorway was a television where often some form of ski porn was kept on a constant loop.

And by ski porn, I do not mean snow bunnies getting busy to a boom chicka wah wah soundtrack, though there usually is some kicky horn based or electronica music soundtracking the footage.

I am referring to the kind of film that fills the dreams and wide screen televisions of diehard skiers everywhere. For the rest of us that do not fall into that category, this particular genre of porn usually involves a high-level skier, a helicopter and a mountain inaccessible by foot or ski-lift. (Or a snow-covered set of stairs)



(Also, to be clear, I am not kidding in the least...google "ski porn". At posting time, I clicked through the first five pages. And in those there was not one that contained anything other than fairly wholesome sports videos. I can't vouch past page six, but would bet it's pretty safe as well, though, kids, don't try it at home...)

As frequent visitors to the household, Husband and I would occasionally watch some of the ski porn with Rich and Kathleen. (Or more accurately, Kathleen and I would drink wine, gossip and sneak a cigarette or two after the kids went to bed while the guys watched the ski porn and discussed skiing or snowboarding, which is Husband's winter sport of choice. )

On one viewing, Husband recognized the location as Roldal, which is where we go skiing in Norway. It's the highest peak in the country and along with some great slopes, there is alot of "off-piste" (off peeeeste, which means off trail) area.

And that is where Husband is on his way right now to snowboard with friends and to take in the Roldal Freeride Challenge, which is much like a slightly smaller X-Games.

Again, nothing too too risque, just some guys doing flips and jumping off the sides of mountains. I think there is a rating system involved as well, but cannot be exactly certain.

We've been there before. Depending on how you catch the ferry, it's about 3 hours to the north of Stavanger into the fjord.

These are some of the scenes on the way....







(It's really amazing that over the course of a four-ish hour journey it's possible to see so many different landscapes. Norway is a gorgeous country and if you haven't been here, you really should pop over.)

This is where his journey will end...



I was supposed to be going along, but Lillie got rejected from the kennel because we've misplaced her shot papers. We suspect that she needs a few updates in any case.


She didn't seem really regretful when I broke the news to her this morning.

And Husband cares more about snowboarding than I care about skiing, so he loaded up and headed on out the door. It's the last weekend of the year, so there's no more boarding for a while, at least until the glacier opens next month.


Also sharp-eyed readers may note the sleeping bag in Husband's left hand. The hyette (cabin) is going to be stuffed with eight other people (That is the math after you subtract me.)

Husband Knows Stuff, #1: What is a fjord?

It's been a pretty eventful week thus far and we're back at home for just a night. And only long enough to scarf down Thai take-away and do a load of laundry. Then we will be off again...

But in the meantime, here the initial installment of my newest feature. It's in the rough stages, but will appear sporadically, so please enjoy.

WARNING:
While the expert speaking in the attached video is held in the highest esteem by me, and by people who know, the information is in no way guarenteed to be be accurate.



And if there are any questions you would like for Husband to explain, please leave your questions in the comments. I'll make sure he gets them. Trust me, he knows lots of stuff. Maybe he can help you out as well.

Have a Happy Easter. There's lots to tell and I will early next week.