Finishing the Gudbrandsdalsleden: From Kongsvold to Nidaros

As the sun broke the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the terrain, I bade a fond farewell to Kongsvold, bracing myself for a day that would test my mettle. Nature had decided to throw its coldest hand yet, and the ground beneath my boots was adorned with a shimmering coat of frost. My destination lay across the final stretch on the “Kings Road” section of this epic journey—an ascent to the formidable Tingsvaet, the third and final of the high-three peaks ⛰️ along the Gudbrandsdalsleden.

The climb proved relentless, a steep and unforgiving challenge that made my muscles scream for respite. It was a humbling thought that this very path had once been conquered by horse-drawn carriages, a feat I struggled to fathom. It had always been described as “Bratt og farlig,” steep and perilous 💀, and Aasmund Olavsson Vinje, the daring author of “Ferdaminni from Sumaren 1860,” had aptly dubbed it “the craziest and ugliest thoroughfare of all.”

As I neared the apex of this daunting ascent, my efforts were rewarded with a breathtaking panorama. Drivdalen stretched out beneath me, nature’s grandeur unfurled in all its glory. The sense of awe that washed over me was overpowering, the landscape a reminder of the sheer majesty of our world.

Amid the windswept plains atop the mountain, I encountered a scene straight out of a dreamscape—a herd of reindeer. They moved with a grace that defied their size, swirling in a cyclone-like formation 🌀. It was a mesmerizing display, and I learned that reindeer adopted this tactic to confound potential predators, making it nearly impossible to single out a target within the swirling vortex.

With the day’s journey culminating at Ryphusan, where basic pilgrim accommodations awaited, I had a decision to make. The weather forecast warned of an impending cold snap, and I couldn’t afford to underestimate nature’s chill 🥶. A somewhat unconventional choice was made: I decided to hitch a ride down the mountain to Driva, prioritizing warmth and safety.

The path onward from Driva was a return to solitude, a trek northward into the embrace of Oppdal’s sprawling valley. The trail wound its way through farms 🌾 and fields, and every step became a careful dance to avoid treacherous mud pits. Nature had her own rhythm, and I had to learn to sway with it.

Oppdal Kirke, a venerable edifice dating back to the 12th century, emerged on the horizon. Its ancient stones had borne witness to centuries of faith, and a milestone proclaimed a mere 153 kilometers remaining on my journey to Trondheim. Here, the Kongevegen (Kings Road) chapter of the Gudbrandsdalsleden concluded, and I ventured into the realm of “Mountain Trolls,” overnighting in Oppdal troll 🧌.

My footsteps 🦶led me steadily across the mountainside, where every turn unveiled a new marvel. Eventually, I arrived at the enchanting “Langklopp Herberge,” a family-run farm with roots stretching back to 1630. Here, history whispered through the rustling leaves and echoed in the footfalls of countless pilgrims seeking refuge over the centuries.

A new dawn 🌅 marked my departure, a determined stride toward beating the forecasted rain to my next night’s haven. Berkåk, a town nestled on the east bank of the river Orkla, greeted me with cold, relentless rain, making the final climb a sodden ordeal. The day’s end brought relief tinged with exhaustion, a testament to nature’s fickle temperament.

With the sun’s 🌞 return, my northward journey resumed, painting Rennebu in a warm, golden light. Here, lunchtime found me at the doorstep of Rennebu Kirke, a venerable structure over 700 years old. Its distinctive Y-shaped plan set it apart, a rare architectural gem that bridged the gap between past and present. Continuing onward, I reached the Ry Herberge farm and Lodge, a place where history had cast its long shadow. The farm had suffered the scourge of the Black Death in 1350, laying dormant for nearly two centuries before new hands breathed life into its timeworn stones. Incredibly the original building still stands and houses fishers 🎣 during the season.

The following day offered a planned shorter walk of fewer than 10 miles, allowing my weary feet a well-deserved break before the final push towards Trondheim. Departing Løkken Verk, the path briefly followed the road, meandering through lush Norwegian Spruce 🌲forests. A way-marker stood as a silent herald, proclaiming a mere 61 kilometers to Trondheim.

Before long, I stumbled upon the idyllic Gumdal Gård, a farm whose history reached back to the year 1600. For over two centuries, the current family had dedicated itself to both farming and hosting travelers 🛌, a tradition that had weathered the test of time. Here, the past intertwined seamlessly with the present, offering a glimpse into the enduring spirit of Norwegian hospitality.

My journey pressed onward, cutting across the countryside on a path laden with both natural beauty and history. Midway through the hike, I encountered “Kvilstein,” a mammoth rock where pilgrims had paused to rest and carve their stories into the stone’s ancient surface. Just before entering the town of Skaun, a shortcut beckoned to stay with a local family, but a steep climb that required a chain ⛓️ handrail to navigate hoist yourself up. Grateful for this time-saving path, I ascended, knowing that my destination was now within reach. After tonight’s stay, only a two-day march separated me from Trondheim’s awaiting embrace.

The next morning heralded the beginning of the end—an arduous trek across wetlands and dense forests, punctuated by occasional showers. Yet, the sun occasionally broke through, casting a golden hue over the landscape, a reminder that beauty often emerges from the midst of adversity. At long last 😮‍💨, I arrived at Skaun Kirke, a medieval stone church with origins dating back to the 12th century. Although I couldn’t explore its interior, I marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship displayed in its wooden ceiling, altarpiece, and pulpit.

The weather continued its capricious dance, with rain and mud making the day’s journey a wet and challenging endeavor. As the day wore on, the landscape transformed, revealing its secrets one step at a time. The journey culminated at the second octagonal church I had encountered along this pilgrimage —Buvik Kirke—a 12th-century marvel with an uncommon octagonal 🛑architectural design.

With the rain relenting, I arrived at my last night’s respite on the trail, a beachside haven that welcomed me with open arms. There, I shared a delightful dinner and wine 🍷 with the gracious homeowners as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a breathtaking display of colors. The promise of tackling the final leg of my odyssey beckoned with each passing moment.

The last day brought forth a relentless downpour 🌧️ ☔️ . A rain poncho became my constant companion as I ventured into the unknown, a climb of 1,900 feet looming on the horizon. The path offered little respite, but the tantalizing thought that the only way to go from here was down kept my spirits high.

A brief pause for lunch 🥪, a mere mile from the trail’s end, found me beneath the shadow of Trondheim’s storied history. Founded as a trading post by Viking King Olav Tryggvason around 997 AD, the city had witnessed the rise and fall of Viking and medieval kings.

Nidaros Cathedral awaited me, its majestic spires piercing the heavens, a symbol of enduring faith and human craftsmanship ⚒️. Tradition dictated that a pilgrim should walk three times around the cathedral before entering, a ritual I gladly observed. The history of Nidaros Cathedral stretched back to King Olav Tryggvason, who laid the foundations of a wooden church on the same hallowed ground. Renowned for its Gothic architecture, the cathedral stood adorned with intricate stone carvings, its west front a gallery of biblical tales.

In 1983, Nidaros Cathedral earned the prestigious title of a UNESCO World Heritage Site, a testament to its cultural and historical significance. As I crossed the threshold, I felt the weight of centuries of history enveloping me, a pilgrim in the footsteps of countless others who had sought solace, salvation, and adventure on these ancient paths. 🙇‍♂️

My pilgrimage through Norway 🇳🇴 had been a journey through time itself, a quest that had led me to explore the rich history woven into the landscapes and landmarks I had encountered. As I gazed upon the grandeur of Nidaros Cathedral, I knew that my adventure was not just a physical odyssey but a voyage of the soul, a quest for connection with the past and the land that had borne witness to it all. With a heart full of gratitude and reverence, I stepped into the cathedral, ready to embrace the next chapter of my journey. The echoes of history would forever resonate within me, guiding me towards new horizons and timeless discoveries.

Other Items of Note

• Kongsvoll -> Ryphusan | 🚕  | Driva

• Distance Walked: 13.52 miles (21.76 km)

• Elevation Gained: 2,810 ft

• Driva -> Oppdal

• Distance Walked: 9.54 miles (15.35 km)

• Elevation Gained: 1,008 ft

• Oppdal -> Rennebu (South)

• Distance Walked: 14.75 miles (23.74 km)

• Elevation Gained: 1,367 ft

• Rennebu (South) -> Berkåk

• Distance Walked: 11.18 miles (17.99 km)

• Elevation Gained: 1,092 ft

• Berkåk -> Rennebu (North)

• Distance Walked: 14.39 miles (23.16 km)

• Elevation Gained: 1,986 ft

• Rennebu (North) -> Løkken Verk

• Distance Walked: 15.30 miles (24.62 km)

• Elevation Gained: 1,821 ft

• Løkken Verk -> Svorkmo (Gumdal)

• Distance Walked: 7.92 miles (12.75 km)

• Elevation Gained: 502 ft

• Svorkmo (Gumdal) -> Skaun

• Distance Walked: 11.37 miles (18.30 km)

• Elevation Gained: 1,809 ft

• Skaun -> Melhus

• Distance Walked: 13.21 miles (21.26 km)

• Elevation Gained: 1,703 ft

• Melhus -> Trondheim

• Distance Walked: 16.12 miles (25.95 km)

• Elevation Gained: 1,960 ft

• Audiobook I’m Listening To

• The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien, Narrated by Andy Serkis

• Music I’m Listening To

• Martin Garrix Live at The Either (https://youtu.be/lGCo8ILvauI?si=FIK7Y-kyZjHJKzC8)

• Seven Lions - EDC Las Vegas Virtual Rave-A-Thon (https://youtu.be/olAMTYJK6mo?si=Caglnakcj_vi1h48)

PS: In Loving Memory of My Loyal Hiking Shoes

It is with a heavy heart and a well-worn sole that we bid adieu to my trusty hiking shoes, which met their untimely end after gallantly conquering the rugged terrain of the Gudbrandsdalsleden in Norway. They valiantly trod through mud, rain, and more mud, enduring countless miles of adventurous escapades.

These shoes were destined for greatness. From the very first step we took together, they clung to my feet like an overly affectionate limpet. Oh, how we danced across mossy forests, skidded down slippery slopes, and tripped over roots with grace only a circus clown would envy. These shoes were the epitome of trailside fashion. They proudly displayed a rainbow of mud stains, a badge of honor from the treacherous Norwegian landscape. In their final moments, they met their match in a the wet rainy countryside heading into Trondheim.

We shall fondly remember the times we shared—those moments of triumph and the occasional face-first meeting with Mother Earth, and unintentional dips in the waterfalls of the backwoods. These shoes may have met their end in the soggy embrace of a Norwegian bog, but their spirit will forever live on in the stories and blisters they left behind.

So here’s to my dear hiking shoes, who journeyed with me across Norway’s wild landscapes. May your soles rest in peace, and may your memories continue to tread lightly in our hearts. You may be gone, but you’ll never be forgotten. Farewell, old friends, and thanks for the muddy, magnificent adventure.

~TheWeatheredSole

NOTE: Proofed and stitched using ChatGPT