4,000 feet straight up? No problem-o.

I climbed this mountain! While it is not the highest mountain I've ever climbed, Kabbetind is probably the most visually imposing. If you look at the photo, you'll see the small patch of light green, bottom center. That's the cabin in the middle of it. The mountain dominates the western horizon behind the cabin and your field of vision is blocked by its form unless you look up, up, up. The valley is narrow where the cabin sits, so the only view from the cabin is the bare, vertical rock face. Anders told me the climb was easier once we reached the opposite side of the mountain, but that wasn't much of a comfort.

Anyhoo, we climbed up an old avalanche scar and zig-zagged our way around to the backside of the mountain. It was neat to walk out of the shadow of the mountain and into the afternoon sunlight. Kabbetind usually blocks the sunlight long before the sun sets and it was a small victory to cheat the mountain and gain some extra rays before the sun actually set. This victory was small indeed as the WIND howled fiercely around us.

The next phase of climbing was surprisingly easy in comparison to the lower half. The rocks around the back of Kabbetind form a kind of huge terraced face. I felt like a two or three year-old managing a flight of stairs. Sometimes I had to heave myself over a moss and heather covered terrace and sometimes I could take an awkwardly large step up. By hook or by crook, it was worthwhile to get to the top (1338m/4390ft), as you can see from the next picture. I'm trying to smile, but the wind was trying even harder to rip my face off.

Two days later, we climbed up the slope directly behind me in the photo. That was only an excruciating 1200m/3937ft up in the rain. We were joined by two friends, T and F. The rain wasn't so heavy, but it still managed to soak our "waterproof" boots. My boots were so waterlogged that they weighed twice as much at the end of the tour as they did at the beginning. Our third hike was delayed one day so that our boots could dry out completely.

The third hike was a leisurely walk to a place called Pyttbua. The over all altitude gain wasn't more than 400m/1312ft over a 2 1/2 – 3 hour trek. This hike was looooooong, though. Anders estimates we walked about 20km/12,5mi (roundtrip) that day. I didn't realize how long the trip was until I got back to the cabin and collapsed into a chair.

Even though I've been to this valley before, I'm always amazed at the variety of altitude specific plants you find at various stages of the climb. Few plants are found at all heights, while most plants thrive in very specific conditions and altitudes. For example, lichen and moss can be found everywhere, but the Norwegian Mountain Rose grows only places that resemble the surface of the moon. Above the tree line (ca. 1000m/3300ft), the crazy forms of lichen in shades of green chartreuse and rust deck the rocks.

I realize this kind of attention to the details may be a bit boring. I suppose I even bring it up because I find this landscape a bit alien yet. Even though vegetation can be found except in the highest of altitudes, this landscape is not lush. The soil is not deep and it is not terribly life-sustaining despite the infinite amounts of water. I never really thought that possible growing up on the East Coast with its raucous vegetation and plant life.