I have for once put my money where my mouth is and climbed western Trollheimen's highest peak, Snota (1669 m). The same goes for dad. As everyone knows, I'm a pretty shy guy, so I'm posting pictures of him instead of myself.
Highlights: meeting my old pal Lars Gudmund, to whom I haven't spoken in three years; and being caught in an avalanche. It wasn't more than 15x20 yards, but being caught and dragged by unruly masses of snow is nevertheless unnerving.
One would believe that the physical strain of a five-hour climb would be hard to top. But the hour I spent trying to ski down from the bloody mountain was worse. Steep hills, hard snow and skis that are ment for prepped cross-country tracks was the silliest combination in Trollheimen yesterday.
I haven't suffered such agony since I initially drunk and gradually hung over climbed the 1564 metres of Slogen, a devilishly steep mountain in Sunnmøre. Being young and immortal, I quit drinking at 7 AM, slept for two hours and then joined the local student nature fanatics for a nice lil' trip. I have seldom doubted more whether I was truly and intensely alive or nearly dead.