Previously, we were in the Norwegian capital, Oslo. It’s a beautiful Scandinavian city, but I think it’s fair to say that the reason most people visit Norway is not for its city, but for its incredible natural wonders. I mean, have you seen pictures of the fjords around Bergen? It looks mind-blowing.
Today, we’re getting out in nature! And instead of the fjords on the coast, we’re headed inland to an area called Trysil that sits on the Swedish border. It’s extremely sparsely populated, with only 2.2 inhabitants per square kilometer; a statistic which has been trending downward in recent years. I think that Trysil is most well-known as a skiing destination. My visit, however, came during the month of August. This is now the 2nd time on this blog that I have visited a ski destination in the off-season. The first was my visit to Whistler in British Columbia, after which I swore to plan a true snowy/wintery trip. Well, it still hasn’t happened! But Trysil was yet another nudge in that direction. I’m betting on 2026.
Here it is on the map for context:
Rain & Fog In Trysil
I came to Trysil as sort of the “grand finale” to my UK-based grad program with the rest of my cohort. There were a menu of local activities included in the curriculum, offering a spectrum of options in terms of the physical rigor. I’m a big, strong, manly man, so I naturally chose the most rigorous option. It promised that I would have to climb “several mountains.”
No problem-o.
I was excited to see some of Norway’s legendary mountains! Unfortunately, Freyr (the Norse god of good weather) was otherwise occupied during my visit. During our entire stay in Trysil, the landscape was covered in a thick fog and a cold, driving rain. It was perfect weather to cuddle up with a good book in a mountain cabin… but we had other plans.
Bright and early, we set out into the cold, foggy wetness to complete our hike. There were about 5 minutes where the sun managed to poke through the cloud cover, so I’ll show you those photos first. We were not in a particularly scenic part of the trail during that fleeting moment, but even then it was clear that—had we been able to see the landscape around us—it would have been incredible. The sun reveals a stunningly bright color palette on the grass around us.
With those few precious rays of sunshine the rear view mirror, let’s venture into the storm.
There was something kind of cool and empowering about facing this weather head-on. It was definitely a different attitude that I had to adopt, but I felt like a bit of a soldier out here. The last time I had to hike in this sort of rain was my time in Sa Pa (northern Vietnam) in 2015, where I almost slide off a muddy cliff. Shout out to Mé for defying physics to save me!
Anyway, at some point we turned off of the main path to scramble up the side of a mountain, and that’s where our off-road adventure began. Although we were clearly not the first to have taken this route, there was a high degree of improvisation involved in our trek from that point onward. We stopped at a lake at the top of the mountain to regroup, before setting off into the bleak, soggy tundra. The composition of this tundra made it surprisingly pleasant to walk on, given the circumstances. It was a thick layer of moss, grass, and other hardy plants that came together to eliminate the slip-factor of the muddy earth, and actually make the ground soft, like we were hiking on a big sponge. The downside was that, in particularly soggy places, this soft fauna-flooring sometimes gave way to ice-cold pools, but eventually I was so wet and cold that it didn’t matter anymore.
We improvised our way through the tundra, guided only by a progression of vertical poles with wooden “X”s mounted on them, which we chose to believe would lead us to a path. We hurdled streams, climbed on rocks, and—courtesy of the Scottish military man in our platoon—passed around a plastic bottle of whiskey to keep warm. I think this was the first time I tasted straight whiskey and actually liked it. Immediately, I felt warmer, and more focused on the positive elements of this experience. I was like “I get it now!”
I’ve ordered whiskey neat at the bar a couple of times since then, and thought back (fondly) to this experience each time.
Eventually we found our way onto another path, which we followed back toward civilization—but not before a few of our group jumped into an ice-cold lake for a quick swim. I suppose this was a cheaper option than therapy. 😂
Our day was supposed to include a much longer hike than the one we ended up completing, but after a few hours out in the elements, once we were sufficiently soaked in the icy water, and the novelty of the experience had worn off, we headed back early. It would be one thing if there were some good views waiting just around the river-bend, but the weather forecast was pretty adamant that we had nothing to look forward to. So why torture ourselves? “We're not at war! We can do whatever we want!” I remember saying to people. We actually had a beautiful, cozy ski lodge waiting for us, so after 5 or 6 hours in the elements, we returned.
That hot shower I took when I got back… ohhhh boy. 💦🤤
From there I think we spent the rest of the afternoon at the bar, which was just as cozy as can be, with a natural wood finish, an open fire, and all the goodies you could ever want—including a beer brand that was local to Trysil. Pictures on the label was a winter wonderland, which is presumably what Trysil turns into during the winter months. We were definitely here during the offseason.
The inclement weather continued for days… but the rain finally broke, just as we were set to leave (of course).
Here are a few pictures I took from the back balcony of the ski resort. Looks great, right?? I would love to have done some trekking through that! Snowy or not, I’m sure this area has the potential to be magical.
Unfortunately, part of traveling is accepting the reality that the weather doesn’t always cooperate. If you don’t have a few experiences like this, you can’t appreciate the good weather. But—it’s funny—these experiences where you are trapped inside are often the most fun, because it really connects you to the people around you. That was the case in Sa Pa (which I covered in Part 1 of that series), and it was certainly the case here. I was here with my grad school cohort at the tail end of our program, so it was a great way to bookend our time together. The rain definitely helped bring us together, I think. So I’m not mad about it. But I 100% need to come back to Norway to see it on a few good-weather days.
This concludes my time in Norway, as well as this mini-series through Scandinavia.
I think Stockholm takes the crown for my favorite Scandinavian (and Nordic) city, but an it’s incredible region—and one that I will 100% be coming back to ASAP.
Up next, I’m going to be MOVING. AGAIN. 🧳
This time, to PARIS. 🇫🇷
Stay tuned. Lots in the queue right now!
