glacier — The Blog — TM Photography

Fannaråken has the highest hostel in Europe. At 2068 meters over sea level, you can get a warm bed, a hot meal, and shelter from the elements. You can also enjoy the views, or even partake in the yearly 'run up Fannaråken'-challenge. I did none of that. Having spent the most exhausting 4.5 hours of my life getting to the very top, I could barely get to the cabin. After climbing in the door, I collapsed on a sofa and didn't move for a good while. The two guys taking care of the place just smiled at me; 'we heard there was someone on their way'. Other than that, they let me catch my breath in peace.

After 15 minutes, I stood up, got some coffee, and sat down again. I started looking around. Fannaråkhytte is divided into a few houses; the main house has a dining/rec area, kitchen and staff accommodations, while another cabin houses guest quarters. Bathrooms and tools sheds are separate as well. I read some info plaques about the place. The first building on Fannaråken was a year-round weather station (did I mention the Norwegians are crazy?) built in the 1930s. There was no road up the mountain, so they had to build it. Horses couldn't get up the steep hill, so they were left behind. Even the mules gave up 600 meters down from the top. What did the Norwegian Real Men do? They carried the building materials up. By hand. And built the damn cabin.

I looked outside, thinking about the massive effort, but saw nothing but blinding fog. I left my camera in my bag and concentrated on the hot coffee. The combination of rest and caffeine was starting to have an effect, and soon enough I had enough strength to move myself to the guest house.

Beware the snow. That is a 300 meter straight drop.

There is something down there.. One of the caretakers looking down from the highest point, just beside the guest cottage.

On the way I tried to look at the scenery, but the scenery wasn't playing along. The clouds still held their grip of the small mountaintop, and i could only get glimpses of other mountains or the valleys surrounding the peak. It was still early afternoon, so I knew I had plenty of time to look at the sights (or waiting for it to clear, at least). So I changed clothes and took a short nap in my bunk.

I woke an hour later, looked outside, and my jaw just dropped.

The clouds hadn't cleared fully yet, and periodically they covered the mountain again. But gradually the clouds disappeared, leaving me to do my thing.

Down the valley. We're way above the glacier now.

Some ice desperately clinging to existence in the sun. The temperature was less than 5 degrees over zero.

I spent the whole evening taking photos. I was so blown away, I didn't even really think of what I took images of; looking at them, I realize I missed some. There are a couple of vantage points I don't have any images from. Well, only gives me reason to go back :)

After taking photos for a couple of hours straight, I was invited for some dinner. It was almost all canned food, but I was starving, so it was predictably delicious. Hats off to the guys manning the hostel; not everyone likes being on a mountaintop for 5 weeks straight, making 3-course dinners and breakfast for tourists every day. After the dinner I talked briefly to one of the guys (I can't remember his name, I'm so sorry :( ). I mentioned that the biggest reason I came to Norway was to get a picture from the top of Fannaråken at either sunset or sunrise. Because of the weather, I was optimistic, but the guy said that he hadn't seen a sunset for 3 weeks. The weather had turned bad each evening. I got nervous; I already had great pics, but not THE pic. Would I get it?

After the talk I had about an hour before sunset was supposed to happen, so I had plenty of time to get a few golden hour shots out of the way:

It doesn't get any better than this. Or does it?

Same view, with 100% less fat Finnish man.

I waited 15 minutes for the sun to hit the glacier, but the hill in the middle covered it really effectively. Stupid mountains, getting in the way!

The sun was getting really low now, and the clouds in the horizon had basically disappeared. I wasn't going to get a shot in that direction. However, the most beautiful thing in a sunset isn't always the sun.. I did a quick re-plan, got my tripod out, ready to rock and roll. But first..

The plan was simple; get a shot with golden light on the mountaintops and the buildings. Then wait for a few minutes until the sky gets some color, and take that shot. Using a tripod, both are perfectly aligned. With a sprinkle of Photoshop, you'd get a pretty nice shot. In theory.

I set up my tripod, realized it was wrong, moved it, moved it again, and then settled down to wait. The golden light was absolutely amazing. The caretakers got out their own cameras too, saying it was a very long time since it was this nice. The sun slowly went over the horizon, I kept shooting. Brackets of 5, full resolution RAW, mirror up, cable release. Checking each exposure. There was not a chance in hell I'd mess this up technically.

Most of you know what I talk about when I say that the sunset can paint the sky red. The thing is, it doesn't happen during summer. In fact, I had been at my dads cottage a week earlier, and got almost no red at all. It has something do to with the quicker sunset in autumn along with colder air that creates the magic. I had hoped for a good image. Frankly, any color with some clouds would have made me happy. But this was something else. I still can't understand my luck; out of all of the days I could have chosen, I chose the only evening in weeks that had a proper sunset. And it was spectacular.

I woke up to sunshine on Sunday morning, which was great considering the weather of the previous day. I decided not to waste time, and headed up to the rapids I had scouted the day before. After some setting up, I managed to find a composition I liked. I snapped off a bracketed series and a few long exposures, which I knew I'd combine later:

I tried some other compositions too, getting myself more wet than planned, and managing to find a small rainbow in the middle of the stream. In total I took around a hundred images, much of them redundant brackets (the sun went in and out, so consistency was an issue). Once tourists started arriving in buses I decided to pack my stuff and take off towards Turtagrø, where I had a hotel room booked.

The road took me by a couple of highland lakes, which are as picturesque as you might imagine. I even saw an eagle that flew right above my car; of course I had my camera in the back seat, so no pics of that unfortunately. I realized early on that having the camera reachable from the driver's seat can be very dangerous ;)

Haukedalsvatnet. No photoshop trickery on the water, I promise :)

Jølstravatnet. Too bad that there was a breeze..

As I mentioned in the last post, my route took me via a glacier; the Bøyabreen. Despite coming from a Nordic country, this was my first experience with a glacier up close. Even though it was tiny after the summer, it was still quite an experience to see. A well-liked destination judging from the tourists (and cows) I got in almost all shots, I bet the glacier is much more impressive in the spring. The glacier is situated in the very end of a valley, a part of the Sognefjord system. The valley walls are quite steep, and there are waterfalls everywhere.

A stream coming down the valley beside the glacier.

Some locals chilling by the local watering hole.

As you might have noticed, it had started raining again, so I continued on my trip. The road goes down south to Sognefjord, and continues North-East as Road 55, designated a 'tourist road'. My destination was halfway along the road, so I was expecting some nice landscapes. There were some. The only issue was the damn rain; I was feeling quite down about the whole thing.

Same shot, a little wider (and earlier). Can't decide which one I like better :)

The water is actually that color; more on that in later posts.

Those are two-storey houses under the waterfall..

The last leg of the day was up a small serpentine road up to the plains of Jotunheim National Park. I noticed something interesting along the road. There are big signs and road barriers before the climb. The signs say 'WARNING - road closed during winter'. The reason is that it is completely impractical to keep the roads clear during winter, because of the ridiculous amounts of snow. It is just easier to move everything down to the valleys for the winter (including cows and sheep), and then back up again when the snow melts. Norwegians are crazy people.

The rain really poured down now, so I decided against stopping anywhere. Besides, I was very close to my stay for the night, Turtagrø Hotel, and I was very, very hungry. I did take a few images once at the hotel, though:

View from the Hotel parking lot, due south.

View to the East. My path the next day would take me towards those peaks.

Grab shot through the window, literally on my way to the restaurant for dinner. My stomach won this one, even though the light was amazing :)

A very nice dinner and some wine later I settled down to plan the coming days. The very next day and the day after that were booked for the walk up and down Fannaråken, but the three days afterward were a question mark. Finally I decided to drive north to Geiranger, and I'm very, very glad I did. That will have to wait for another post, though.

So, sorry for the non-inspired commentary in places; it is very much in line with how I felt, driving through amazing landscapes with no chance to properly capture them. Fortunately, that day was the last day of rain, and things will pick up considerably in the next post, where I take you up the mountain called Fannaråken.

Day 3.5: why I do what I do

Day 2: water in all its forms.