Les Vaches

It was astounding how many beasties could fit in this corner of Paris.

Just when I thought I saw everything, another building would appear and more rows upon rows of animals and food vendors would appear. How exhausting!

For the person who has it all:

They need more cow bells.

My favorite kind of cow is this one: soulful kohl-lined eyes and big flirty lashes.

The Normandy cows with spectacles are the ones responsible for Camembert production, so they can be listed as a favorite as well. I actually found a vendor there who had my favorite super special Camembert from the farm we visited last June and I urgently bought the last wheel from her. It's fantastic stuff, and I feel sad for you if you can only get the rubbery processed stuff in the states.

May lactose intolerance never strike me.

While the facilities management here was on top of the manure situation and the odor management was pretty tolerable for an indoor location, I really could only drift into the cochon section very briefly. The pigs themselves are not malodorous, but anyone who has passed a pig farm on a hot day can attest to the fact they do leave a pretty strong present for their handlers to clean up.

There were also some gorgeous chickens and fouls and buns, but anything in a cage is pretty much unconvincing and pointless to try and photograph, so I just can't be bothered.

What was also kind of an interesting observation was the crowd. There was a lack of chic noire-wearing Parisian ladies and men in skinny suits flitting around, and a plethora of sturdy country folk who speak slow enough for me to actually understand what they are saying (it's not me, it's you, Paris...). Despite the crazy amounts of amazing food, it seems like most of the locals aren't around despite heavy advertising in the Metros.

Stavali to Kinsarvik

Our last day of hiking. We planned our route to end at a Fjord, just because we could.

After a sad goodbye to our Freisand host and the hotpot and the lovely cows, we were on the trail again.

What a lovely day!

We knew from the squiggles of terrain on the trail map that this wouldn't be an easy hike. We had been climbing a whole lot- there was lots of uphills and a disproportionate amount of downhills all week. Ah, the dread of having to end up at sea level at the end of the day.

We encountered only one other person the first half of the day: a local, shirtless, with his dog, speeding along at a blazingly fast pace.

The waterfalls started getting bigger and more frequent.

We ended up going down a bald rock mountain face. Scary! I wouldn't have been able to do even attempt this if it had been even a little bit wet.

We started seeing a lot of day hikers. People trying to hike in flip-flops, asking how far the waterfall was. Sigh.

We saw a helicopter air-lifting supplies to Kinsarvik.

They either get supplies air-lifted or they have to wait until winter when a snowsled could get to them to restock.

The roar of the water was constant now as the mountain just drops off into a fjord.

Not surprisingly, Norway produces a great deal of the energy from hydro electric sources.

Humans have been walking some of the trails in Hardangervidda for 9000 years. Before there were roads and organized townships, the trails had been the main trading routes since the Bronze age.

Soon, the trail turned to a dirt road, which turned into a paved road that led to the town of Kinsarvik. Kind of an anticlimactic way to end an epic hike. We did find raspberries though.

And there it is. A Fjord.

We stayed at a tiny, lovingly restored cottage house nestled between sheep pastures and mountains.

The owner of the cabin had a handful of sheep high up in the mountains that we had seen much earlier in the day. She said they drive them up in Spring, and they find their own way home. When they feel like it's getting cold, they show up in her yard, waiting to be fed.

Hot shower! Flush toilet! Real coffee! Comfortable cozy little shack with a view! It was quite a nice place to call home for the night.

Viveli to Stavali

Genius.

One of the perks of these Norwegian huts was that a lot of them provided sandwich-making materials at breakfast, along with a roll of parchment paper. You can make your sandwiches for the trail in the morning and skip the granola bar diet completely. It was pretty luxe, and the bread was always homemade and fantastically grainy and good. Since you tend to calorie-load during hikes, I had no guilt at all chowing down on a blue cheese and pate sandwich for lunch. Having good food on trail gives you a nice mid-day break to look forward to.

At this point in our hike, my body started rebelling a little bit. I stubbed my big toe at the breakfast table, which broke open a blister that was under my nail bed which just bled like crazy. Both of us had a great deal of painful blisters on our feet. No matter how broken in and trustworthy your boots are, if you are wearing them all day every day in hard terrain, your feet are going to suffer. My ankels were so swollen, they turned to cankles, my knees were making popping noises...plus I won't even get into the cramps I was dealing with. Usually I'm curled up with a hot water bottle doing recumbent yoga poses, not trying to balance from rock to slippery rock trying to get myself across a stream. Putting on your boots and taking those first few steps in the morning was the hardest part, but pain can be ignored.

Still, nothing beats the euphoria of being able to wake up in the morning, hit the trail at a leisurely pace and see amazing things that you won't get to see if you didn't put all this work into getting there.

We left the Viveli hut in a steady rain, which cleared up as soon as we had struggled to put all of our rain gear on.

We were climbing steadily all morning.

We reached a high tundra plain and for the first time since we left Finse, I reached for all of my winter woolens, all at once. It was cold and windy and very exposed.

It was some lovely hiking though.

It was one of the easier days of hiking we had, but it still took us more than 8 hours.

The trail descended rather steeply into a valley that was filled with lakes and roaring rivers and waterfalls. It was spectacular.

It was a lot of work to cross all this water. Stream crossings take up a lot of energy and time. With a big pack on, it can be hard to balance. Sometimes you just have to accept the fact that your feet are getting cooled off, and sometimes your legs as well.

Being able to spot the Stavali hut down the valley was an encouraging sight. Even after a relatively easy hike of 8 hours, you still just walked up a mountain 8 hours more than you do on your typical urban day.

Stavali ended up being my favorite hut on the trail, despite being quite rustic with no hot water or flush toilets.

They had a hot pot. You had to hose off with ice-cold stream water before you hopped in, which made it all the better.

After a half hour soak, I was feeling no pain and even forego the dose of Advil I was taking every night. It felt amazing.

Also:

Cows! They were running a summer dairy farm with three beautiful cows and a calf. No powdered milk in my coffee here- I hadn't had really fresh milk like this since I was a kid, and I hate the fact that I have to go back to the ultra-pasteurized homogenized crap in a bottle. Real milk is amazingly good, with hints of the flora the cow has ingested. Happy cows make really great milk. The cows were docile and allowed to roam around all they wanted. I could watch them without end.

We also got fed (a rarity for a self-service hut in the middle of nowhere) a really dairy-rich meal of a creamy porridge called Romagraut.

All the traditional Norwegian fare we had was meant for people who spend a great deal of time in the elements. Everyone else we knew was probably eating fresh corn on the cob, watermelon and peaches while we were grateful for rich winter food.