Ski Virvasshytta to Kvitsteindalstunet

23 km, 370m Ascent, 435m Descent.

It was Philips turn to do the group log entry today - these are his ramblings:

VIRVASSHYTTA - KVITSTEINDALSTUNET

Amazing how much noise Mick can make when he goes out to check the weather at 4.00 AM! The inspection was unfortunately followed by loud shouts suggesting that staying in bed was not an option and we sat round blearily waiting for the coffee to revive us. It was -16 and after a few warnings about frostbite we were on our way at about 6.00

in a way the day split into three.

First the climb up to where the pulk had been left. Familiar from the day before it was accomplished quickly and painlessly (Editor's note: I'm afraid we have a bit of Philip hallucination here, possibly caused by not enough coffee. The only place the pulk was left yesterday was inside the porch of our hut - so at least he's right when he says the climb up to it was accomplished quickly and painlessly!) but it was certainly cold and a kilometre or so further on we passed a Lapp hut; a tiny conical refuge clad in tar felt. Well sited and how old? Doubtless very welcome in a storm.

This then led to a spectacular high traverse in steadily improving weather. what looked like rather complex navigation from the map unfolded nicely in the sunshine with a reindeer fence on one side and the 'Kola' visible on the other as we glided along happily in relatively good snow conditions.

The final leg to the hut had us back in trees and deep snow..... Shades of the approach to Virvasshytta but nothing like as bad, though the final little ascent to the hut provided a degree of entertainment.
The hut itself was slightly different in style, more traditional and without a porch but pleasantly situated in the woods not far above the lake and we were very quickly installed.

Perhaps the most graphic memory of the day was the speed with which chaos can overtake. We were progressing well on the middle leg when a bit of water appeared through the snow. The three up front tried to take avoiding action, but a moment later had ground to a halt with just enough ice on skis and pulks to hinder progress. Turning round there was a scene of complete mayhem behind with people cursing, dropping out of line, and crossly scraping their skis. Chaos! It must have taken a good 15 minutes to restore progress, which was fine on a sunny day but might have been less amusing if the weather had been unkind

Overall a long haul but an enjoyable one

Continuing with our short stories, here's Kathy's:

Mrs Ramsay's Last Ski

Mrs Ramsay pushed the shopping trolley wearily across the car park. Where had she put her key? Check the pockets, no, handbag - unzip right side, left side, front pockets....no. Back to the jacket - there it was, hiding under her hankie.
The rain was falling harder now, big drops, she could feel the water seeping through the right side of her trousers where the wind pressed them against her frail legs.
Two bags of shopping loaded into the boot, trolley returned, feet wet, cold, tired, she struggled into the driver's seat and switched the engine on, waiting for the heaters to blow warm as the rain turned to snow on the windscreen. The radio caught her attention as a newsreader reported on an ongoing search for seven British skiers lost in Northern Norway.
Her hands rested on the steering wheel, eyes unseeing and thoughts far away in a different time...... here the snow gleamed white to a distant horizon, cold air filled her lungs with the fire of life as her skis danced across the landscape. Together with companions she'd found sanctuary in the warm haven of the mountain huts, sharing a passion for the hills with the strangers who lovingly cared for these remote shelters, and who welcomed others to share in their comfort, and rest tired bodies.
She hoped the missing folk would be found safe and well - while part of her envied them their adventure - and brought her mind back to the present and the drive home; snow falling as she struggled to carry the shopping from the car and dump it heavily on the kitchen table.
By morning the world had changed. A slanting sun hit her eyes as she drew back the curtains, split and sparkling off the perfect crystal flakes in a deep white blanket, soft and beautiful. Something dormant within her started to stir, old memories rose to the surface and she breathed an excitement she'd almost forgotten. A growing notion took her downstairs to find a pair of old boots in the back of the cupboard, then hat and gloves on and a thick warm jacket. She pushed open the back door against the snow and took careful steps across to the garage - and, there they were, untouched for years - two sets of skis in the rack. Her hand rested briefly on one pair before she slowly took the other, smaller set, with their poles, and grappled them outside.

An incredulous neighbour watched in disbelief as the old woman skied past, up the lane and out towards the hills - what on earth was she doing now?
......but Mrs Ramsay was home in her own world, and knew in her heart she wouldn't be coming back.