A Norwegian adventure with 10 randoms May 2026

Just back from a three day kayak and hiking trip in Norway. Kayaking in Nærøyfjord. Hiking up Breiskrednosi. Fodder for my blog!

The offer of this trip came from my very good friend David. A much more experienced adventurer than I. I gave it virtually no thought. It sounded fun. Three clicks later I had hopped aboard.

Norwegian Airlines to Bergen. First night in Voss, we were expecting cold driving rain but arrived in blazing sun.

A man who looked remarkably like Woody Allen, now apparently living in exile behind the bar of a pub called Scrot, refused permission for us to move a table. He did however recommend another establishment with a more progressive attitude to furniture relocation. Bar Minigolf. We found it possessed four other essentials of a good bar. Water views, beer, 10 new friends and a pleasing absence of minigolf.

Our hostel accommodation was good, clean, and efficient. The single sex dorm was not as dreadful as it sounds. I was nervous, naturally. Not having slept in a single sex dorm since boarding school I had post-traumatic flashbacks to being roughed up by bigger boys and slippered by the master on duty for both his own gratification and “talking after lights out”. No such trials to endure nowadays it transpires. Although one of my new travel buddies and dorm mate appeared to have been shaped by a similar culture, feeling the need to post a voice note to our shared group WhatsApp of the snoring at 4am. Perhaps that is the modern equivalent of bullying? Well, 9 new friends! There is always an outlier.

We lucked out with our guide Pedar, who was an interesting and impressive young man despite his appalling mullet and 1970s racing driver moustache. The origin of his ambiguous forename aside, he had a Norwich accent and fairly forceful opinions about the parentage of fans of Ipswich Town FC.

We never saw him without a sunny grin and an acerbic but amusing comment for one or other of us, his adoring charges.

It turns out he was a caring, supportive and attentive host, cook and guide who repeatedly made us feel we were doing well, even when we were clearly irritating the tits off him.

He was extremely efficient and managed, by strength of personality, to enlist everyone to work together at every opportunity to make the chores light and fun.

The food was plentiful, tasty and varied at all three meals every day. Snacks too. Well done Peter. Get a haircut.

Day 2 was a breathtaking kayak up the fjord to our campsite. I would say that the supplied equipment at every stage of this trip was very, very good.

The fjord scenery, I shall describe because I know you hang on my every written word rather than bothering to look at the photos. Here goes. Can I get you to imagine kayaking down a Norwegian fjord? It’s just like you would expect that to be. Only on steroids. Taller, wider, less inhabited, more snow-capped. Greens more vivid, goats more goaty, more spectacular waterfalls, brighter painted wood-clad villages, and more mist rising off the water. And not another person in sight.

Even the Norwegian seagulls were cleverer and more efficient than the British equivalent. Nesting within the campsite they seemed shy during the day, only poking their heads out to look cute. But at night, they emerged without a sound to vacuum the campsite of any dropped or visible morsel. Imagine if our pesky version of this bird simply came to the seaside at night to clean up the dropped chips and ice cream? They would be a national treasure.

Our BBQ supper was fit for Jehovah. Chops and sausages prepared by Peter over a bonding campfire. Generously seasoned, ample proportions and supplied with sufficient carbs for Nordic explorers like ourselves.

Here Peter revealed the extent of tomorrow’s planned ascent and, obviously in hindsight, descent of Breiskrednosi, a towering vertical 1,200m cliff face when seen from the fjord. The other side was the U-shaped valley from Year 9 geography lessons. The thing about the U, I now realise, is that it gets steeper as you go up. There is a section for maybe an hour and a half called, in Norwegian, “Slog” which translates as Slog. It came immediately after a section called “Drago” which translates as Drag. You get the picture?

We had after all voluntarily signed up for the trip, and paid, so I guess it should perhaps have come as no surprise that Day 3 was the equivalent of scaling Mt Snowdon but from sea level. And that snowshoes would be required. They were optional, but if declined he wasn’t going to take us.

Our fellow adventurers were all British I think. Usually, I know, this would not be my highest accolade but these were all like-minded, determined and surprisingly interesting folk. Diverse in both age and occupation, they reinforced the old NHSontheRun adage that travelling is not just about where you go, but also about the people you are with.

Did I do a thing? Or is this poor content? <Ed: spelling?>

Worthy of mention in despatches:

Sam Lee the group glue. Chatty, self-deprecating, nurse, mum, Wonder Woman, celebrating her fortieth birthday. She runs a free wellbeing open water swimming group in Wales for her friends, both on and off the bus. Sammy was travelling with her friend and colleague Kirstie, nominated group beauty, young mum and fellow adventurer, also a theatre nurse. Both very much in Norway following the advice of NHSontheRun to get up and get on with it. They epitomised the need for the NHS to stop thinking of nurses as cannon fodder and start recognising them as its lifeblood and talent, and rewarding them as such, so they can do even more fantastic things for people.

In Norway, for example, nurses may not earn American-style salaries, but they are much better paid, enjoy excellent pensions, generous annual leave, strong worker protections and a healthy work-life balance. Watching Sam and Kirstie in action, I found myself thinking Norwegian nurses seem to have negotiated a rather better deal than their British counterparts. Brexit should not be an excuse for NHS planners to rest on their ample buttocks and ignore one of our nation’s greatest assets. Go girls, maybe even to Norway?

Rachel and Glyn were there, a recently retired married couple, living the NHSontheRun dream of never considering the option of being too old. Clearly loving life, bickering alone but amusingly and just within earshot, in their two-man kayak. Having someone to bicker with is worth approximately an extra five years’ longevity. Also, and this should be a lesson to me, they had more nameable hobbies than a person who’s bought a paddleboard, a padel racket, an easel and a sourdough starter in the same year.

Further note from the doc to our Sam. We are all on some sort of spectrum. You really don’t need to use it as a diagnosis. Everyone loves a warm, funny and admittedly very chatty person. We would all happily tune in to Radio Samlee.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/08198a_1263f1ca05c1494a9885fe21a731b2be/file

The other name check is for young Jack, my personal saviour on the descent from Breiskrednosi. He helped me up when I fell and even carried my snowshoes when I really was very likely to hurt myself carrying them down. Thanks Jack!

I could go on and name check them all but the wellbeing message is already made. Staying active, taking fresh air, being in touch with nature, having physical contact with the ground, having empathy, friends and emotional connections keeps us alive. It is epitomised by those name checked already. The others all had the same message.

I cannot lie, I was anxious when the morning alarm went. How would I measure up to this trek? As you know this blog is about our adventures in the run up to and throughout our retirement. Predominantly written to assist my flagging memory. Increasingly however, I realise it’s about the question: should I graciously accept the seat on the tube proffered kindly by a young person, or should I be mortally wounded that they think I’m an older person?

Perhaps privately, I had wondered whether I still measure up in such company as this?

Sixty four, and the least young person in the group, I certainly did OK. I powered up. It was a pretty arduous eleven hour walking day. Snowshoes very much required. Melting and collapsing ice bridges. Softening thaw mud interspersed with ice, slush and unstable stones made the descent tough for me. I am reassured that several people, not just me, and not just in their sixties, used the seat of their trekking trousers as a method of descent at some point.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/08198a_9b799ece95f1473d94174e1a861f43f2/file

I was tired on the way down and by the point of getting back to camp discovered, to my surprise, that extreme physical exhaustion is a cure for social alcoholism. Despite the offer of unlimited red wine, the finest Filipino rum and a roaring campfire, the lure of my 1cm thick foam mattress on the leaking floor of our two-man tent was too great and I was tucked up by 9.30pm.

Day 4 was another kayak day. Beautiful and only about 12km, it was just about the maximum I could have managed after yesterday’s trek.

The Norwegian sun god smiled almost 21 hours a day upon us, despite the weather forecast. Take an eyemask.

I cannot recommend this trip too highly.

Thanks especially to David for suggesting the trip, great travel companion and tent mate. We must stop asking each other “Are you OK?” We both really are! Friends are almost as important to longevity and long good health, as bickering.

At NHSontheRun we like to use the expression “life affirming” very sparingly. This trip was definitely that.

Details below:

Hike, Kayak and Wild Camp the Norwegian Fjords – 3 nights | Much Better Adventures

If you have enjoyed the read please like or preferably comment below. Thank you !