Tromsdalen, Arctic Cathedral, Storsteinen (421m) and Floya (671m - 2200 ft approx)
- A cold, wet start in Tromsø
- Over the bridge to the Arctic Cathedral
- Finding the way up the hill
- An Arctic picnic
- A modest ascent
- Return to Tromsø - and later a return to the hilltop!
The hill of Storsteinen is unmissable from the harbour in Tromsø, just across the sound. It has a cable car station on top of the west face, at the left hand end of a ridge which rises up to the right. When I arrived on the Wednesday evening, I wandered down to the harbour in steady drizzle and looked across towards the hill. There was a light covering of fresh snow above about 300m, and certainly I was feeling the chill. I walked further around the town, seeing the statue of the polar explorer Amundsen and the distinctive shape of the Arctic Cathedral across the water, then returned to the hotel on Grønnegata for an early night (although of course it was daylight - rather like a damp winter afternoon in Fort William).
Next morning it hadn't cleared up much, although the rain had stopped - temporarily at least. I was feeling quite down, having had some unrealistic dream of wall-to-wall sunshine in the land of the midnight sun. However, after breakfast at the hotel, I walked the short distance into town, called into the tourist office to find out about cruises and buses to visit nearby places, then settled for a walk across the bridge to Tromsdalen. I had brought my boots with me, so I might as well use them.
I walked back up to Grønnegata, which sloped up away north from the centre of Tromsø to an area with much less of a city feel to it. The timber houses certainly conveyed a sense of a frontier town, with rough ground in between some of them, much of it sacrificed to Giant Hogweed.
Over the bridge to the Arctic Cathedral
Then I took one of the streets (I forget which) down towards the bridge, crossing over a patch of parkland to the pavement on the north side. It was a steady incline up to the highest point, and I passed plenty of other walkers.
Among the ships berthed down to the left was one from Murmansk in Russia, emphasising the polar location. Further north along the shore of the island, a very different vessel came into view - it was a giant cruise ship, which I later found out was the Westerdam, at 85,000 tonnes the biggest cruise ship ever to have visited Tromsø.
Walking down the other side of the bridge, the pointed shape of the Arctic Cathedral grew larger, rising out of the suburb of Tromsdalen. Actually Tromsdalen church rather than a real cathedral, it was consecrated in 1965, and the distinctive design is said to reflect the mountains and the ice. A couple of days later it provided a striking backdrop for photos of the marathon runners crossing the bridge.
It took about 15 minutes to walk over the bridge. Once I'd reached the other side, I walked up to and around the church, taking a couple of photos of the city across the sound. I didn't go in to see the inside of the church, but it was open to visitors.
I avoided the busier roads heading along the shore, and walked round to Turistvegen which ran behind the church, towards the steep wooded slope of the hill. I wasn't sure where I would find the route of ascent - the hillside was covered in thick woodland. I could have turned right onto A Jacobsens Veg, which led to the cable car station, but wanted to try and find a path.
Continuing along the quiet road, I took in the peaceful scene or colourful wooden houses laid out in the valley to the left, among rowan trees. Then I was fortunate to come across a Spar shop on the right, at a road junction, and called in to buy a filled roll, snacks and some juice. There were bread loaves for sale wrapped in Marathon wrapping. A little further on, and I turned right up Floyvegen, which climbed gently past more colourful houses. Finally towards the end there was a sharp left-hand turn onto a trail that headed up into birchwoods. This must be the route I was looking for.
It was a clear route, steep in places, bending this way and that up through the trees. Occasionally there was a view between the branches across to Tromsø. At a couple of stretches the track was slippery after the rain, so I was glad to have the boots on.
I saw a man heading down with a dog, but no-one else. Eventually the track emerged from the thicker trees into an area of lower dwarf trees, and there was a steep open slope with an eroded path cutting up it to the shoulder of the hill. At the top, I was surprised to find what looked a bit like an Indian tepee, but was presumably a replica Sami shelter. Inside was a fireplace and benches. Not far beyond was the shape of the upper station of the cable car, with a play area outside!
This end of the rounded ridge was touching the cloud ceiling which rose and fell. Walking over to the edge of the hill, I could see down to Tromsøya (Tromsø Island), and occasionally the tops of the mountains beyond appeared, heavy with snow. Suddenly I had this deep sense that there I was, in the far north, surrounded by arctic wilderness. Looking at these distant mountains, and up the ridge into the cloud, it felt very remote. There were patches of snow around me, but I had enough gear on to be able to sit and enjoy my lunch outside, looking down at the view. The cable car station was far enough away, not to intrude on the feeling of remoteness. The colours of the wooden houses of Tromsdalen below seemed to glow in the gloom. A couple of birds hopped around, hoping for an easy meal.
Not surprisingly, the cold worked its way through the four layers of clothing, and I was soon lured into the cable car station by the thought of a hot cup of coffee. I spent some time inside warming up, chatting to a couple of German visitors, and writing my diary. I contemplated what to do next. There was time to climb further up the ridge, so I headed outside again and up into the shifting clouds.
Soon I was picking my way between large areas of snow, from rock to rock, and reached the actual top of Storsteinen. It was marked by lots of little piles of stones, which could probably be seen from Tromsø with a pair of binoculars!
I pushed on upwards another few hundred metres, up a steeper slope and then a more gentle one. I think I probably made it to the top of Fløya at 671m - just over 2000 feet. It was impossible to be sure, in the enveloping mist, but it was a low top with bare whale-back ridges of rock, after which the ground fell away a little. There wasn't much point in going further in these conditions, and no-one would come looking for me if I got lost, so I decided to turn back. It had been a personal test really, to battle against the elements in an arctic environment and get something out of a dull damp day.
Return to Tromsø - and later a return to the hilltop!
It was a reasonably easy walk down, back to the cable car station and then down to Tromsdalen. I took a different route along tracks that connected one street with another, admiring the fine houses with their views across the sound to Tromsø, but wondering what it must be like in the deep winter months.
On the other side of the bridge about 5 pm, I turned left into the harbour area and found the Polar Museum still open - this is described in the museums walk.
Three days later I would return to Storsteinen, this time by bus and cable car to safeguard the aching legs, the day after the marathon. It couldn't have been more of a contrast, in warm sunshine, with unrestricted views over Tromsøya and the mountains beyond (see the panorama below). People were wandering this way and that across the hummocky hillside, as if it was a Sunday walk in the park rather than an excursion to an arctic wasteland. I bumped into an Italian guy, Mauro, who I'd run with for much of the race, out walking with his wife. A different experience entirely!
Contributor: Andrew Llanwarne
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