Out of Oslo

At the Oslo pilgrim centre this morning, Eivind (self proclaimed "Godfather" of the path) witnessed us break a scallop shell that was attached to the trailer. Having been given this scallop shell, the traditional symbol of pilgrimage, by a fellow walker in Orkney, I was a bit dismayed. Eivind remarked that "during every great journey there will be small accidents" and, after facing down today’s potential calamities, I hope that a broken scallop shell might be the worst of them! It is said that the quantity of food or water that could be held in a scallop shell was the accepted measure of sustenance to give a pilgrim; in this way no-one was excluded from being able to help.

Eivind fed us pineapple, strong coffee and jaffa cakes, praised the project and told me I was crazy. But he seems to think it can be done, perhaps with a little deviation to stay on-road when necessary. "Remember that the journey is in your heart, not in your feet" he told me. "So, if you have to adapt your route then do it, without guilt."

Quickly got into very difficult, forested terrain. Raining hard. Huge boulders, gridlock of tree roots, ascending steeply in the forest above Haslemkirke. Toby has to lift the back of the trailer (stone in situ) over the obstacles that the wheels and axel can not ride over, while I scramble forward, pulling with all my strength, losing my footing on sheer, wet stone. I capsized many times. One wheel rides up and tips the trailer, I twist and go down with it from my fixed position in my harness and Toby has to right 60 kilos. Each time he lifts the back of the trailer is pretty terrible, especially with the pack on. Exhaustion and pain mounting. Sometimes I can minimise our chances of capsize by better judgement of the path; when my feet go over an obstacle it’s a few paces before the wheels meet the same obstacle - time enough to manoeuvre around it. Having reached a rest stop, we met an Australian walker huddled in his sleeping bag inside the gapahuk, with all his wet clothes hanging up around him. We got a head start on him but he soon caught us up and walked with us for a while, keeping me company while Toby relayed, taking the gear on ahead, checking out the path and then coming back to push behind the trailer. Andy said that an endeavour like this was known as "hard yakka" in Australia. This cheered me up. We managed only about 8km today - not a very good start but we have pushed our luck somewhat already.
15mm rain in the night. Started positively with squashed raspberries, like jam, on oatcakes and then things became treacherous. We were heading downhill, out of the forest, over boulders running with water. We had no choice but for Toby to force the stone and trailer forward down the hill - a 60 kilo wheelbarrow effectively, either trying to run away to a crash landing, or barred in its way by rocks and quagmire. The most stressful physical sight I’ve ever witnessed, and Toby almost impaled himself through the stomach with a handle when the trailer halted dead. We have bent the right handle. Tears from me when we got to the road. Situation dire, really dangerous. Task ahead seems impossible. Toby got us to Baerum golf course, where caffeine and carbohydrates did wonders. We haven’t been able to have nearly enough calories, nor can we carry more weight. In the rational conversation that followed we seriously considered quitting. We had come so close to real danger and we were very low.

Now reasonably high, however. Having decided to continue, but with more manageable goals (for example, our focus now is simply on reaching Granavollen pilgrim centre in a few days time for further advice) we found that the path took quiet forest and village roads. On the steep uphill sections I watch my feet and think of rolling them heel-toe, like my Dad taught me when I was stomping about flat footed as a child. To pull the trailer over obstacles I think 2.6 - prepare on 2 and pull on 6, as we did hauling ropes on the Swan. And downhill I have to brace myself and not allow my concentration or my feet to waver for a second. The 60 kilo load is heavier than me - if it gets up some momentum I will be powerless to stop it. Still, for now the stove is on, we have made tea and set up camp. I wonder where this day will rank on the scale of days with the stone, when we look back at them. I will never be able to thank Toby enough, not simply for doing this with me, but for the manner in which he is doing it.