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ISSUE 31 OCTOBER 2014

Meet the Norwegian wildman who can teach anyone how to survive in the wilderness...

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G N I BR ON THE BEARS!

...even a city slicker journalist

12/09/2014 11:38

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friluftsliv n (norwegian) the philosophy of outdoor living Far from the chaos, traffic and light pollution of urban life, deep in the wild Norwegian wilderness, Jane Wright sleeps under the stars and discovers a renewed sense of wonder at the simplicity of nature.

Photography Jon Enoch

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ere in remote Norway, the answer to that perennial question, “Does a bear s**t in the woods?” is most certainly yes. I’m thinking about this because my guide for the next three days in the wilderness, Pe#er Thorsen, has suggested that I spend the second night camping out on my own.

“Well, just you and the bears,” he jokes.

So, things I learned in Norway: birch bark is the best way to start a fire; actually, the bears are timid; how to catch and gut a trout; bird droppings are dark blue like ink stains due to all the berries they eat; the lakes are cold enough to paralyse your limbs a$er 15 minutes; the only constellation I can recognise is the Plough; and the sound of silence makes your ears ring.

Norway has always been on my radar. My parents came here on their honeymoon in 1959, and again on their 50th wedding anniversary. Clearly their love for this northernmost European country has permeated somewhere deep, because its effect on me a$er three days is profound.

Our adventure begins at Øvre Forra Nature Reserve, an hour-and-a-half north of Trondheim, where I am loaded up with a rucksack of waterproofs, sleeping bag, a carved wooden mug and plate and a reindeer skin to sleep on. It’s a beautiful autumn day, and pungent earthy smells fill the air.

Pe#er, a tough ex-Norwegian Navy Seal (and deadringer for Breaking Bad’s Walter White) runs Wild Norway (wild-norway.no), a company offering wilderness camping trips and Arctic survival courses throughout the year in

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LEFT: NORWAY'S WILD ØVRE FORRA NATURE RESERVE, WHERE MOOSE, DEER, FOXES, WOLVERINE, LYNX AND BEARS REIGN FAR LEFT: WILDERNESS GUIDE PETTER THORSEN WITH JOURNALIST JANE WRIGHT

OUT HERE, YOU WILL SEE HOW LITTLE YOU NEED TO HAVE EVERYTHING

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Norway’s mid-and-northern reaches.

“Out here, you will see how li#le you need to have everything,” he says.

I survey the landscape spread out before me, punctuated by pine forests, water glinting through the marshy wetlands beneath an endless gunmetal sky. In the distance is a low range of blue-ish hills, but there are no fences, no electricity pylons, no wind turbines; you cannot hear cars.

There are no other human beings around, just a few sheep, me, Pe#er and outdoorsman Geir Vie, an extravagantly bearded Norwegian with a big knife.

We set off, squelching across the wetlands, as Pe#er explains the Norwegian philosophy of frilu!sliv, a lifelong passion for nature and the great outdoors instilled in Norwegians as children. It is not so much about challenge and hardship, but more about immersing oneself in the wilderness and enjoying the simplicity nature offers.

A$er a few kilometres we reach a patch of skeletal pines and birch trees skirted by a shallow river, and as we curve around a bend there is a perfect clearing, encircled by pines.

Geir strings a rope between two trees and throws a tarpaulin over it, securing each corner with a hastily fashioned tent peg and voila! Welcome to Hotel Spruce, a 5,000-star joint with mountain views and very cold running water.

Geir and I go off in search of firewood and birch bark, which strips off like wallpaper, and is the best thing, he tells me, for starting a fire. In the wilderness, the fire is everything.

The bark and the dry pine twigs crackle into life and soon the old blackened coffee pot is on. Meanwhile Pe#er is preparing the nets for our fishing expedition to Reinsjøen

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ABOVE: OUTDOORSMAN GEIR VIE SPENDS SIX MONTHS A YEAR LIVING OFF THE GRID LEFT: GEIR'S WOODEN CUP, WHICH HE CARVED HIMSELF, GOES EVERYWHERE WITH HIM

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PARIS (BEAUVAIS) | VISIT RYANAIR.COM LEFT: SETTING UP THE FISHING NETS IN THE ICY WATERS OF LAKE REINSJØEN, WHERE A DEEP SENSE OF TRANQUILITY COMPENSATES FOR THE BONE-NUMBING COLD

– Reindeer Lake – a shining expanse of water surrounded by heather and pines. We cross the river and start hiking uphill, and Geir brings the landscape to life, identifying birds overhead, pointing out tracks – moose, deer, red fox, wolverine, lynx – picking berries and indicating the mushrooms we must never eat. He impresses with his quiet, gentle wisdom. “There is value in silence,” he says simply, “and the more silent you are, the more you can hear the sounds of nature.”

When we reach the lake I’m tasked with pulling the fishing nets out into the middle. The water’s freezing, but I wade in dutifully, quelling the urge to scream, and swim deeper. Once the net is set, I relax a li#le, floating on my back and watching the clouds dri$ across the sky.

It is u#erly peaceful, but also bone-numbingly cold.

Still, the hike back warms me up, as does the rekindled fire. As Geir makes his special flatbread, I love watching his careful ritual, cleaning and oiling the cast-iron pan, wiping off the excess and placing it on the fire. He mixes flour, olive oil, an egg, water, salt and baking powder into a dough and fla#ens it out, watching it closely as it cooks.

The light is fading as we chew dried, smoked reindeer meat, a half moon rising in the sky. The bread is smokydelicious, smothered in salty bu#er and honey. When it is polished off we sit by the fire until it is completely dark and 42

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BELOW: THE FRUITS OF A DAY SPENT FORAGING AND FISHING INCLUDE GOLDEN CHANTERELLES, NINE RAINBOW TROUT AND A HANDFUL OF WILD BLUEBERRIES

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FLY RYANAIR TO OSLO (RYGGE AND TORP) AND HAUGESUND FROM 47 DESTINATIONS, INCLUDING

we have fallen quiet, gazing at the flames in companionable silence. “For me, si#ing here in front of this fire is the perfect world,” Geir says. The stars come out, strewn across the dark sky like diamonds, and I realise I have rarely seen a night sky that is not polluted by streetlights.

A$er a peaceful night of open-air sleep at Hotel Spruce, breakfast is Geir’s crushed oats and bacon mixed with sugar and water – proper fuel for outdoor people. We head back to the lake, the sky looking bruised and threatening rain, to be greeted with nine rainbow trout. I’m thrilled. Geir shows me how to grasp the fish by the gills, make a small incision in the throat, then slit the belly open. From the back of the mouth I pull sharply and the guts come away in one go. A$er our hike back to camp Geir stuffs them with pine fronds and salt, wraps them in foil and cooks them over the fire. One hour a$er they are out of the water, the pine-flavoured fish have all been eaten and we are licking our fingers. It feels like a great achievement.

Just as I’m beginning to feel very satisfied with myself, Pe#er reminds me that tonight I camp out on my own: “Now you get to sleep alone – with those bears,” he grins. I’m not

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CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: GUTTING THE TROUT IN PREPARATION FOR DINNER; PETTER RELAXES BY THE FIRE; GEIR'S HOMEMADE FLATBREAD, LATER ENJOYED SMOTHERED IN BUTTER AND HONEY

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THERE IS VALUE IN SILENCE AND THE MORE SILENT YOU ARE, THE MORE YOU CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS OF NATURE

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worried. I’ve just caught and cooked my own food, like a true woman of the woods. Bring on the bears.

I find a spot further down the river sheltered by some pines and string up my tarp, then I haul up some wood for a fire later. I find the others and the three of us walk along the river as dusk gathers. Pe#er spies a patch of chanterelles and shows me how to identify them by the distinctive ridges underneath. We fill our pockets for breakfast – like proper foragers.

As the sky darkens we return to our fire and a few cups of Aquavit, a Norwegian liqueur, and tales of Pe#er’s Navy Seal days, and Geir reveals that he spends half the year in the mountains. Eventually I say good night and wander down the river to my camp.

“You will come to understand the friendliness of the fire if you sit awhile before you light it. The fire makes everything right,” says Pe#er before I go. He’s not wrong.

The crackle of the fire is immensely comforting.

The sky is awash with winking stars. I lie there trying to identify the constellations, but the only one I know is the Plough. It shines out clear, inviting me to join the celestial dots. Suddenly I see two shooting stars in quick succession, but my eyes are drooping, the fire is burning down, the sound of the river lulling me to sleep. I wake once to find a circle of glowing embers, the stars all gone and the sky cloudy. But no bears, just the muffled cla#er of sheep bells.

At 6am I can see a curl of smoke in the distance – Geir is up and cooking breakfast. Time to start the new day’s adventure.

Having grown up in the Sco#ish countryside, this trip has been a reminder of the simple pleasures to be found outdoors, that sometimes silence intensifies your experience of a place. How easy it is to forget that when you live at the accelerated pace of a big city. But most of all, out here in the midst of this vast, pure, unhurried landscape, I understand Pe#er’s words: how li#le I actually need to have everything. Q

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TOP LEFT AND BELOW: A REINDEER SKIN PROVIDES A TOUCH OF FIVE-STAR LUXURY ABOVE: ROOM WITH A VIEW, NORWEGIAN WILDERNESS-STYLE

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