Author Archives: Steve Walker

About Steve Walker

Once a tech in-house PR type, now professional photo/videographer and recreational drone pilot. Violinist. Flautist. Occasional conductor. Oenophile.

A Musk-see sight

Saturday 23 August 2025 – In yesterday’s post, I said that the plan for today involved tramping around looking for local wildlife. The activity was described as a “safari”, which conjures up images of hot, sunny conditions and being ferried around between exotic photo opportunities in a robust 4×4. However, we’re in the Norwegian midlands, and so realised that it wasn’t going to be hot, and the forecast suggested that it wouldn’t be sunny, either. So our getting-up activities involved a certain amount of rumination about how much protection we’d need against the almost-certain cold and the apparently likely rain. We also knew that there would be, as I said, a certain amount of tramping about, quite possibly up and down the side of mountains and maybe even in and out of Norwegian woods. So I was also concerned about not getting too hot, since the forecast temperature was some 12°C. In the end, I opted for more protection against the rain than against the cold.

At breakfast, and at the suggestion of the hotel staff, we stacked up a couple of sandwiches each so that we could take a packed lunch with us for the day, and set off for the two dozen kilometres to Hjerkinn, where we would meet up with our guide for the day. On the drive over, we noted a couple of things to be explored on the way back.

We arrived at a windswept car park which featured a few huddled groups of folk who, like us, were expecting a safari,

but there was no immediate information about what to do. There was a troll there, which was laughing at us,

but that was it. I realised at this point that I had probably got the balance between wet and cold wrong in my gear selection – it was chilly and there was a stiff breeze.

After a while, though, some chaps emerged from the building and it became clear that they were the guides for the day. There was a bigger group, around a dozen, who were going with one guide; and we had our own chap, Jakob. But we all piled into vehicles together and headed down the road for a few minutes to the starting point of the day’s safari. Jakob immediately led us off on our trip. I asked him what the plan was for the day, and it was straightforward enough: walk for a couple of hours in the hope of finding our quarry; spend some time eating lunch and watching it; and then walk a couple of hours back. Simples!

We crossed a river,

went under a railway and then headed along a track up the side of a hill.

The scenery was immense

and the wind was strong and cold; but walking up the hill was a nice warming activity. At one point, Jakob stopped and said, “Ah, I can see them already”. He was doing that thing that expert guides do all over the world and which annoys and impresses me in equal measure – picking out an animal from its surrounding scenery, even though it’s entirely invisible to my eyes.

Believe it or not, there’s a Musk Ox in the middle of that picture. In fact, it became clear that there was a small group of them, maybe some 700 metres away, which I could just about make out if I used the 30x telephoto of my phone.

It was clear that we would have a bit of a trek to get to the point where even I could see them with my naked and streaming eyes.

Jakob gave us a choice of route – we could take an easier, but longer way round, or we could do a shorter yomp across the intervening brush which should get us near the animals more quickly. We opted for the brush route, which took us across and through moss, lichen and small scrubby plants of various sorts.  The going was not easy.

but it conveyed the authentic Norwegian safari experience wonderfully well.  We even got to see Musk Ox poo.

Before you get too excited about that, let me show you the scale of this defecation.

This, remarkably, is the poo of an animal which might weigh half a ton. Jakob explained that it was winter poo – more details promised later.  We also, by way of balance, came across some summer poo

which was larger and, unsurprisingly, fresher. This demonstrated that we were actually using a track that a Musk Ox might choose as a route from A to B, via W and C.

We finally got to a place where even I could make out the beasts, some 250 metres away.

We were not the only people out looking for Musk Ox; I hope this picture gives some perspective of what could be seen with the naked eye.

We were not allowed to go any closer than this to the Musk Oxen. We had been told before we embarked on this diversion that that this was the case. I had thought that it was in order to afford the Musk Ox some protection from the ravages wrought by humankind. That’s not the case. The distance rule is for the protection of humans, of whom Musk Ox are not even slightly frightened. Jakob explained that the animals are very protective of their rather large personal space, and can be aggressive if people get too close. In fact, a handful of people get killed by Musk Oxen every year.

So – 250 metres.  Time to get the Big Camera (or, rather, the Big Lens) out.

We could see a family group – female, male and two calves. They seemed utterly unaffected by the proximity of the E6 main road going close by.

The E6, in fact, is a barrier – if they stray beyond it and can’t be shooed back, they have to be shot before they cause aggro.

Jakob had brought a spotter scope with him and was able to assist Jane in getting a couple of shots through it on her phone,

and the results are pretty good; but I was pleased with the results I got, particularly when three of them formed a nice family group photo for me.

Female on the left, 4-month-old calf in the middle, male on the right, distinguishable by the bulk of horns on his head.

I took a little video, also.

We spent probably an hour watching these, whilst we ate our lunch, and Jakob gave us a great deal of information about Musk Oxen, on which he is something of an expert, having written a thesis on the beasts at University.

They are not, despite the name, cattle. They are actually related to sheep and goats. Once you know this, it’s obvious from looking at the heads and eyes. It also explains the habit of the males during mating season of establishing superiority, and hence shagging rights, by running full tilt at each other, which is a disturbing sight.

They are mind-bogglingly stupid, apparently. Several die each year because they will charge an oncoming train, for example.  The area we were in used to be a Norwegian Army training area, and one Musk Ox apparently charged a tank several times. He actually survived, but minus one of his horns, which must have felt as odd to him as it would have looked to us. They are very agile, and will climb steep mountain sides, a la goat, but should they lose their footing it rarely ends well. They are also subject to dying from pneumonia. That said, they are very tough creatures, being able to survive in winter temperatures down as low as -60°C. This explains their winter poo – during extremely cold weather, they stop growing entirely in order to conserve what energy they can derive from what grazing they can dig up from beneath the snow. In summer, when the temperature climbs, they can simply go higher in the mountains to avoid the worst of the heat. And their poo reflects a more normal metabolism.

The big surprise to me is that they are not native to Norway, having gone extinct here some ten thousand years ago.  They were reintroduced from Greenland, a process that was far from straightforward and which took several attempts over the course of centuries, starting in the 18th century and only really succeeding in the 20th.  The group we were watching was part of a population in the area which is managed to only around 200.

We had been joined by the others in our larger group, and they drifted off to watch another pair of oxen just along the way.  We passed them on our trek back to the start.

There are a couple of Musk Ox there, honest.

We took the longer but easier way back to the van.

and Jakob explained to us a somewhat left-field, but lucrative, industry based around a lichen, the White Curl lichen, which is ubiquitous here. (By the way this is one of the several species collectively known as “Reindeer Lichen” because… er… they form the major part of the diet of reindeer).

These tiny little clumps are prized. People pick them dry them and then sell them – to model railway enthusiasts, who use them as trees. It’s a million-crown industry, apparently.

Generally, the colour and variety of mosses and lichens in the area is remarkable.

So ended our Musk Ox safari, six of the possible 200 animals sighted, altogether a satisfactory day out. The expected rain never materialised, further underlining my poor clothing decision-making ability. Although I found it very chilly at times, it could have been a lot worse; but I really could have done with an extra layer. Never mind – we saw our Musk Oxen and we were happy.

On the way back, we stopped off at the two places we’d noted on the way out.  Firstly, Dovregubbenshallen, which is a remarkable huddle of buildings just beside the E6. The wooden construction and turf roof is in the traditional architectural style called “Gudbrands”, which is a feature of the Gudbrandsdale valley, this region.

Translated, its name means “Old Man’s Hall”, or “King’s Hall”, and it has links with the well-known saga of Peer Gynt. Ibsen’s play confers the name “Dovregubben” to one Jotun Dovre who fostered and raised Norway’s King Harald, called Dovefostre as a youngster. I’m not sure that Edvard Grieg, in writing the part of his Peer Gynt suite called “In the Hall of the Mountain King”, had the cafe there in mind…

The cake (well-deserved, I’m sure you will agree) was good though.

The other place we wanted to visit was, again, a set of striking buildings beside the road.

This was Fokstugu Fjellstue, Fox Cottage Mountain Lodge, which turned out to be a pilgrim hostel and retreat, based upon a sheep farm.  There’s a pilgrim route, Olav’s Way, stretching from Oslo to Trondheim, on the coast, and this is a place where pilgrims could stay.  It looked a bit run down, frankly – the church was closed and some of the building structure was crumbling. But it’s a handsome site.

And that was it for the day – an active and full one, and perfect preparation for my deerburger evening meal back at the hotel.

We have one more day in Dovrefjell before heading back to Oslo to mooch around there. No formal activity is scheduled on our agenda, but Jane has just informed me that she has a few ideas.  I’ll come back to these pages tomorrow to see what it was we got up to.

 

Phase I – Dovrefjell

Friday 22 August 2025 – When we visited Antarctica, we had several conversations with people on our cruise who had previously visited the Arctic and recommended it. And so the idea to see the other end of the Earth was born, and when Kate at Whisper and Wild, who had organised our excellent Madagascar trip, suggested a specific cruise on a small boat in the environs of the Svalbard archipelago, it seemed that Fate had joined the dots for us. During discussions, Kate suggested a side excursion, to Dovrefjell in the Norwegian midlands, and so we included this as well as a couple of days in Oslo, with which city neither Jane nor I are familiar. So, we have a three-phase travel, and today we embarked on Phase I.

As with our Antarctica/Argentina junket, we’re covering a fair range of possible climate conditions, and so packing has not been straightforward. It’s not something I normally agonise over, but I have found it rather trying to make sure I pack a useful selection of clothing to cover sightseeing in a capital city in late summer conditions, tramping through the forests of the Norwegian midlands in search of local wildlife and clambering about on Zodiacs and tundra north of the Arctic Circle. Of course, I have also to pack a wide range of photo gear to give me the best chance of coming back after a couple of weeks with some good images.

Again, as with what seems like all of our travels, we had an early start today – an 0600 alarm, with the mission to rise, complete packing, have breakfast and get to Heathrow for a 1035 flight to Oslo, preferably without having forgotten anything.

In the end, the travel worked pretty smoothly, although a little congestion at the entry to the airport didn’t serve to settle the nerves. But we checked our bags and got through security in about 20 minutes, the flight pushed back and arrived a couple of minutes early and Hertz had a car ready for us and the four-hour journey north of Oslo to Dombås.

I’ve driven across the wilds of Sweden before, and found it pretty dull – there’s a lot of pine forest and huge boulders between its major cities. I was not expecting Norway to be significantly different, and I’m glad to say that I was wrong.  The journey was more picturesque and more varied than I had feared. Our timing didn’t allow us to be leisurely en route to Dovrefjell, but Jane took a lot of photos as we drove along.

The route to Dombås is almost entirely along the E6 Trondheim road. It starts as a decent stretch of fast dual carriageway, allowing us to view a selection of the undeniably stylish motorway bridges on offer.

as well as tunnels,

some of which were several kilometres long – not surprising, given the general lumpiness of Norway’s geography. We passed the odd occasional town

and lake

before we reached Lillehammer.  That’s a familiar name; I wonder why?

Ah yes, of course – Olympics and skijumping.

After Lillehammer, the road became largely single carriageway and consequently slower, but still passed through some nice countryside

and lakes and rivers of an extraordinary shade of green

and we arrived into the Dovrefjell area in lovely afternoon sunshine.

The Trolltun hotel is well-signposted, and after we checked in a specimen of the local wildlife was there to welcome us as we went to our room.

We had arrived just in time for dinner, an excellent meal served in unsurprisingly rustic surroundings.

On the walls were some more specimens of local ex-residents

Could this be the missing lynx? – Ed

and it will be a pleasure, I suspect, over the coming couple of days, to seek out some more of the rather delightful decor of the place.

And so ended day1 as we reached the start of Phase 1. It will involve tramping around looking for extant examples of local wildlife, and tomorrow’s weather is looking a little uncertain, so we’re not quite sure how things will pan out.  I suggest you check back in in due course to find out.

 

 

 

Day 22 – La Giustiniana to Rome. Well, all roads lead there, don’t they?

Friday 5 June 2025 – Our last day of walking, then. 16km, eh? On roads through Rome’s suburbs? In 30°C heat? Have you taken leave of your senses?

For some reason, the 30° heat here has been, at least for me, more enervating than the 35-40° heat we encountered when we walked the Camino Francés. I was only two years younger then – can those two years have made such a dramatic difference to my tolerance for higher temperatures? Except that I haven’t done any cycling for those two years, I’d say my fitness now is about the same as it was then. But I’ve found the conditions for the last 100km, since Montefiascone, to be really quite oppressive. People we’ve talked to seemed to think it was unseasonably hot, too.

Anyway, the practical upshot of considering the lunacy of walking the final 16km was that Jane Made A Plan.  This is how the day unfolded.

Yes, it says “Walking” at the top, but I cannot tell a lie: we took the train. It was a short walk from the hotel to the local station, and a €1 (each) fare to get us to a station called Appiano, which offers a viewpoint of the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica, whence we walked into Vatican City to get our Testimonia.

The train ride provided one of those coincidences that leaven the weary flatness of life. We knew that the French couple we’d chatted to at Monte Gelato the day before yesterday (and then some more that evening in Campagnano, as it happened) were planning to take the train towards Rome because they, too, were finding the heat oppressive. Astonishingly, when we stepped onto the train – there they were! Same train, same carriage, same seating area – a very unlikely combination.  They got off a couple of stops before us so that they could walk through a nature reserve as part of their final day, whereas we wimped out and detrained a little nearer the final destination.

At Appiano, one can take a short walk along paths which include the cursed strada bianca

to a belvedere, offering this view:

The dome of St. Peter’s is clearly visible and you can make out the walls of Vatican City, too. From there, a path leads to a coffee bar

which, had we known it, was almost back at Appiano station. We refreshed ourselves with a coffee and then walked down the winding path that takes one towards St. Peter’s. By and large, the route was pretty much standard crowded-city-on-a-hot-sweaty-day, but there was some slightly classy graffiti to be seen.

Getting round the outside of the Vatican City walls

made us sharply aware of the contrast between the almost total solitariness of the countryside we’d traversed and the realities of life in a capital city, which is not only a pilgrimage destination but a popular tourist site. There was lots of traffic and noise, and tour groups everywhere;

tourist tat shops ubiqutious;

and, as for getting into St. Peter’s Square, where the entry is through the right-hand arch?

It looked daunting, but Jane did the sort of thing that wouldn’t have occurred to me and Asked The Way. Anyone who can show a credenziale can skip the line!

So we followed the gent in the dog collar and actually whizzed through. There was a security check, and I’m glad I’d decided to leave my penknife in my suitcase, but within a few minutes we were through and into St. Peter’s “Square”. There is a special entrance for pilgrims

which leads to its own security lane, past a selfie point

and towards the place where volunteers were awaiting us to give us our certificates. It was a bit of a zoo,

as lots of other things are on offer in that corridor, but we had a very warm welcome from the two volunteers who were providing testimonia and timbri. Having got these, it then transpired that we were free to enter the Basilica itself, with no further queuing!

Well, almost.

Just as we were about to mount the steps, another volunteer held us back and closed off access. He explained that it would only be for a few moments, but there were some special processional groups who were preparing to enter the Basilica, and they took priority, which is fair enough.

Actually, three processions went through, one of which sang as they went, which I thought was a nice touch. Meanwhile

we waited until the nice man let us through, when we charged into the Basilica!

Well, not really.

Here’s what it was like to get into the church.

I suppose it’s inevitable when you are at the centre of a global religion with 1.2 billion adherents that there will be crowds. Some of them might even be Catholics. Inside the Basilica, magnificence is in plentiful supply,

as are people.

There’s a slow and steady shuffle of punters, all waving cameras in the air and taking selfies. The place is extraordinary, but too big and too crowded to do it any kind of photographic justice. So we shuffled in and round and marvelled at the place and then shuffled out in search of refreshment. We caught a change in the Swiss Guard

passed a statue, the “Angels Unawares” boat by Canadian artist Timothy P. Schmalz, dedicated to the world’s migrants and refugees,

and tried to capture a photo of the arena outside

but it’s too big (is it always full of chairs, or is this for something special?) and I think that if I’d launched the drone there might have been comment. So we took a last view as we left St.Peter’s Basilica.

There’s a cafe nearby, but it seemed they didn’t want us to invade their privacy, and the streets nearby are loaded with eateries and drinkeries

which we thought would be crowded and probably expensive, so we decided that it might be better to head off to our hotel and see if we could check in.

Our accommodation was the Dharma Style, which is near the central station, so it was straightforward to get to on the Metro. Our room was, indeed, available, but our bags hadn’t yet arrived (probably stuck in some ghastly traffic jam somewhere). So we headed out into the street where there was immediately a restaurant that was thronged with people. We decided to lunch there, even though it showed pictures of the food, and enjoyed a good lunch (including gin!) before retiring to the hotel to rest and recuperate for the rigours of the journey home.

For tomorrow we go from Rome to home, or that’s our plan; we’ve yet to see what BA’s plan for us is, but we’re sanguine that we will have a joyful homecoming having walked 394.47km of the Via Francigena and nearly 100km of related sightseeing.

As an experience, it’s been significantly different from walking the Camino in Spain, which after a moment’s thought would be bleedin’ obvious: hundreds of thousands of pilgrims a year enables and sustains an infrastructure that hundreds of pilgrims a year can’t. The walking here in Italy has been tougher than almost all of the Camino paths, and some of the scenery more spectacular as a result. The heat towards the end made the experience somewhat more trying than I would have liked; and I am looking forward to getting back to a country which serves hot coffee in large cups; but we’ve enjoyed this big adventure and all the small adventures that have gone to make it the experience it has been.  We have plans for some other long walks, and you can rest assured that I will use these pages to rabbit on about them; I hope you will stay in touch to read the result.