A Little Walk on Top of the World

Chris Raven, travel writer and photographer, grabs his umbrella and heads to the island of Magerøya in Finnmark Norway to walk the Knivskjellodden, Europe’s northernmost hiking trail.

By Chris Raven

www.chrisraven.com

I’ve always been intrigued to find out what lies at the very top of Norway, 500 miles beyond the Arctic Circle and in the far depths of northern Europe. So, here I am in an empty car park on top of the world at the start of the Knivskjellodden trail, waiting patiently for an Arctic storm to pass by. The radio in my Vauxhall Corsa has broken, which has forced me to occupy myself in other ways by munching on stale custard creams and reading the information on the back of the suntan lotion (Butyl Methoxydibenzoylmethane?). Why I have suntan lotion in the Arctic is a mystery, because from where I’m sat there’s about as much chance of grabbing some Vitamin D from the fire ball as a polar bear tapping on my window.

Mission: To walk the Knivskjellodden trail (18km rtn – starting point just off Highway E69 before Nordkapp entrance toll).

Location: Magerøya Island, Finnmark, North Cape, Norway – 3,330 km from London – 500 miles north of the Arctic Circle – 71°11’08″ latitude.

Companions joining mission: Simon Raven (my long-haired brother and fellow adventurer).

Arctic Experience: A little (once built an igloo in the back garden when I was seven).

Clothing & equipment: Scarf, walking boots, binoculars, umbrella, 99p plastic poncho (forget to bring a coat).

Risk factor: Medium/high (may trip over rock, stray off trail, fall off a cliff or get eaten by a reindeer).

Norway “The Land of the Midnight Sun”, and a country famous for the Fjords, fishing, mountains, snow, sailors, Vikings, beautiful scenery, brightly painted houses, Lofoten Islands, pickled raw fish, cod racks, hunting and eating Whales, Nobel Prize, Reindeer, Northern Lights, oil & gas, expensive fast food (£12 for McDonalds Big Mac meal), Hammerfest (most northern city and an excellent small museum ‘The Royal and Ancient Polar Bear Society’), 24 hrs of daylight and old people driving huge motor homes and clogging up the roads. What’s even more interesting is that there are apparently more Norwegian descendants living in the United States than there are Norwegians in Norway, and if you balanced the country on its end and let go it would crash into Morocco. This is going to be fun…

The Arctic storm eventually buggers off and whips across the barren landscape and, with my belly full of custard creams and my knowledge of the ingredients of suntan lotion vastly improved, Simon and I get out of the car and smell the fresh polar air. An hour ago you could only just see a foot in front of you due to mist, and now the flat, boulder-littered tundra can be seen to the horizon and in the direction of the North Cape Plateau.

It’s 6:00am, and it’s not as nippy as I had imagined considering we’re in the Arctic. Still, in case the storm returns, we take all the natural precautions for changeable weather and slip on our gloves (well, I do, Si forgot his, so he’ll be using a pair of socks), two jumpers and a fleece (we forgot to bring coats) and brightly coloured plastic ponchos and a golf umbrella. It suddenly occurs to me that we’re not as organized as I had first thought, and certainly not compared to most experienced road trippers and motor home lovers on their ‘Arctic’ adventure.

Not letting our lack of experience and preparation skills get in the way of our ultimate goal, we double check we have water and a few packets of crisps and a sandwich in the rucksack, before setting off along the Knivskjellodden trail. The trail lies about 1,500 metres further north than the supposed Nordkapp latitude, which must be very annoying for the tourists who didn’t know this before remortgaging their homes to go on a coach tour to the most northern point of European mainland. Blame your tour company. Anyway, we set off feeling strong and follow the marked trail across the flat, spongy, treeless tundra with its sharp, craggy rocks and boggy puddles. Sometimes we stray completely off the trail into areas of snow, and wander in the wrong direction, but we stop, have a quick debate about which is the correct way, and get back on the trail. The markers are a little confusing and the trail could do with having clearer marker points. If we were doing this hike in a polar mist, we’d have no chance. Markers that flash orange when it’s misty would be a good idea. Or maybe it’s just our rather lousy navigation skills. I wonder how many people get severely lost up here for hours and hours in the cold, or never return? We continue to follow the arrows painted onto the piles of stones along the trail and soon make our decent down to sea level where we see a small island in front of us off the coast.

The views of the deep blue waters of the Arctic Ocean and the eerie black cliffs of North Cape are fantastic. A herd of reindeer’s race by and there are a couple of cute youngsters hugging their mother’s side. A dotterel appears and sings a song for us, it’s rather tame and we don’t seem to be a threat. It comes quite close. A skua flies from out of nowhere and crash lands on a small blue glistening lake to our left. The Arctic seabird flaps its wings and dips its head under the water before going airborne again and disappearing over the hills. I smell the clean air and smile at the beauty of this place. There’s nothing more amazing than being surrounded by nature and open space. Plus we seem to be the only people on the trail. We haven’t seen one single person. 6am was a good time to start. More reindeer’s pass by as we slowly climb down the plateau to sea level. The clouds are dark and menacing, making everywhere seem even more eerie and prehistoric. The red arrows keep us marching in the right direction, and after scrambling down a slope and over rocks we make it to the open sea. Suddenly, in the corner of my eye, a massive white-tailed eagle flies off a jagged ridge in the cliff face close by and swoops in circles above our heads, riding the Arctic air currents. I’ve never seen an eagle of this size before. We stand and watch this beautiful bird of prey for a while, cranking our necks and looking up at it through the binoculars.

Tripping sideways over rocks, we arrive at the bottom of the cliffs. Have we made it to the end of the trail? Si then spots another red arrow pointing to the left and up and over more rocks. We stop and catch our breath. I wouldn’t say we were unfit, slightly knackered, maybe, and there’s a slight pain in my chest, but I know for sure, this 18km round trip will not have us both bed bound and dribbling into our soups. Well, I hope not, anyway. I release a tiny sigh – a ‘no-way-my-feet-and-chest-hurt-but-no-problem-come-on-we’re-nearly-there; sigh, which is more than I can say for Si’s “Jesus Christ, you’re f***king kidding me!” We continue on that extra mile, jumping over crevasses and stumbling over huge boulders. A cormorant skims the ocean and seagulls cry out as they fly over head. It feels like we’re the last people on the planet and, up ahead in the distance, I see a round pink buoy and a spike with a yellow ball stuck on top of a concrete plinth. We had made it, 1500 m further north than Nordkapp. “Well done!” I yell, as we both link arms and have a little dance. We stop dancing and look out across the Arctic Ocean, as the waves swell and crash against the cliffs. It’s incredible to think where we are on the world map.  Iceland is way down and we’re practically on the same latitude as Greenland and Alaska. The island of Svalbard is the next land mass before you reach the North Pole, and it’s an island inhabited by polar bears, where it’s against the law to leave your house without a gun. For us, we don’t have to worry about polar bears, but it occurs to me how many people right now are currently further north than we are; maybe only a few thousand, or so. I feel privileged to be able to stand here and experience this amazing Peninsula; a Peninsula that has witnessed great explorers like Englishman Richard Chancellor, who passed by this exact point in 1553 as he went in search for a Northeast Passage.

The Knivskjellodden trail is a great five hour hike, and I very much recommend it. You really do feel as though you are on top of the world, and the atmosphere of the Arctic weather, the reindeer’s, the birdlife, the howls of the wind blowing across the wild tundra, the little yellow flowers growing out of the spongy vegetation and the barren landscape and views are breathtaking. It’s well worth the journey to get here, despite the hefty toll charges. Get up early and be the first to hit the trail.

My mission to hike Europe’s most northernmost trail is complete. And for those people who paid the entrance fee to enter Nordkapp and stood by the globe on the North Cape, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.

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