I was looking ahead, squinting in an effort to grasp the terrain ahead and determine how to approach the next slope. What would normally feel like a breeze on a clear day, was starting to feel quite oppressive. We were skinning up, engulfed in a thick fog. The first part of the skin up had been easy, we knew the route very well and the surrounding trees gave contours to the landscape. Then we decided to push on a bit, in a direction that was less familiar but out of the way of the popular ski touring route.
The previous night we camped on the most northern point of the Lyngstuva peninsula, where we pitched our tent on a high spot over the ocean. With only water and islands as far as the eye can see up North, the midnight sun treated us to quite the show. In the morning we lingered at our campsite, soaking up the morning sun. Time flew as we sipped instant coffee and watched a seal play in the waves lower down.
Looking back on it, these 2 days were pretty much filled with everything that draws me to the mountains and keeps me coming back: the highs but also the lows. The warming sun and the moody fog. The moments filled with pure joy and the moments of doubts. The overwhelming feeling of being all alone under the night sky and the dreadful realization that you still have several hours of trudging through the wet mist.