The Hardangervidda Plateau was something I dreamed of as a boy, well before I decided to spend my life travelling. It was portrayed in the film ‘The Heroes of Telemark’, the story of heavy water at the Vemork Hydro Plant. I loved watching war films with my Dad, and this one was a favourite.
50 Years later, I travelled to Norway, with BMRT friends, Mark & Sarah, and old school friend Graeme, to cross the plateau.
The train from Oslo to Bergen is one of the most beautiful railway journeys in the world, and under the bright sunlight, it didn’t disappoint. Suburbs were replaced with rolling countryside, lakes and then snow capped peaks. The four hours flew by, and by late afternoon we alighted the train in the snows of Finse. I’d been here a couple of years ago, and it was a beautiful as my memories. Graeme was beaming with joy. He’d always wanted to try something like this, but opportunity hadn’t come his way. Here we were, two lads who had met as children at Long Row School in Belper in the 1970’s, out on the ice at last. The air had a bite, but the sun was warm and the wind light.
The hut was filled to bursting, and the people brought an excited atmosphere, but with peace too. There was no screaming or shouting, but rooms of laughter and knitting. We settled down on a mattress as all the beds were packed, and awaited the snoring…
Bright sunlight greeted us, and we crept out of the room to dress, pack and get an early breakfast. We had 22km to cover, and though conditions were good, it was going to be a long slog. The initial pull out was pleasant enough as the air was still cool, the suns power increased as the day progressed, and sweat began to pour from every pore. It was good to be out though, and I sang to myself, keeping a steady pace and living in my little world. We met a lady skiing in shorts and crop top, which seemed mad, but she explained that the weather is so nice presently, she could do little else and wanted a tan..!
We crested the hill above the hut by 4pm and were very happy to ease off our boots. It had been a slog, but the hut was a joy, and a shower and hot meal goes a long way when you’re tired.
The next morning dawned even brighter, and we left Kraekja coated in sun block. My nose had suffered yesterday, so we crafted a makeshift shield with foot tape. I’m not sure how much it helped, but the comedy value was certainly increased.
We crossed the road and climbed into the hills, eventually looking across the huge plateau. It resembled a desert of ice, which under the unlimited visibility, seemed to go forever. The sun was ravenous, and with not a cloud in the sky, we just faced the burn. A gentle breeze helped, but when we reached the hut at Stigstuv, the thermometer read +8C in the shade. We were glad to have covered the 19km and get some respite.
A stunning sunset ended the day, with silence greeting my sleep.
The weather was surprising me. Back in the UK, the last few days had been far too warm for my liking. In Norway, it seemed little colder. The snow magnified the suns beams into a painful brilliance, which, though easy to navigate in, made conditions underfoot slushy by late afternoon, and large patches of grass and juniper were bursting forth.
Our journey to the beautiful Rauhelleren hut was swift, with a little cloud giving respite from the suns burn. The hut itself was a haven of peace, excellent food, ridiculously wonderful showers and a lounge which would put any hotel to shame. All this in the middle of a huge plateau, with no roads.
Prizing ourselves from the door the next morning (we didn’t want to leave), we were confronted with another decent day’s wander, but there was an issue – the snow was disappearing. Boulder fields, grass and juniper began to take over, and one lake made a huge cracking boom as we made hastily for the edge. Spring was begging to show her colours and green grass greeted us at the Marbu hut. The wind accelerated and we took a day’s rest to sit out the worse of it, and relax our legs. My skin grafts were tired too, and the rest did them the world of good.
The next day was a drag for my feet. The path to Kalhovd was undulating, beautiful and empty, but I turned an ankle and my skin grafts complained. When in snow shoes, I found the going tough and I was happy when we finally entered the hut. High cloud had kept much of the sun off, but the temperature was well above freezing all day.
Now came the day, which defined the trip. What should have been a simple 22km to the Helberghytta, turned into a 12 hour slog through sugary snow, sheet ice and bubbling rivers. Navigation was a challenge at best, and Mark also put his foot through the ice on a lake, making any further crossings impossible. The evening began to fall, and still there was no sign of the hut, but a full moon rose behind the peak of Gaustatoppen. It was a beautiful moment on a silent and still night, which brought a smile to my haggered face. Soon we found the hut and burst through the door, expecting a full room, but no one was there. Our aches evaporated with a roaring fire, hot food and drinks, and the knowledge that we had almost completed the crossing.
The hut is named after Claus Helberg, who was part of the successful raids on the Vemork Heavy Water Plant. Newspaper cuttings, photographs, maps and a weapons container dropped by parachute adorn the hut.
Our final day was much easier, with Rjukan coming into sight after a couple of hours on foot. Sadly the cable car at Krossobanen was closed, and we had to walk the 19 hairpins down into the valley bottom, before entering the town. Time to nurse my blister and put my stumps up.
To close the story, Graeme and I visited the heavy water museum, with its new extension and were thoroughly impressed with how it presents the story of a number of raids, executed with great skill and daring. A fitting tribute to the Norwegians who risked their lives to prevent nuclear expansion in WW2 Germany…