The Man Who Went Up a Mountain and Came Down with Sore Legs, Lillehammer July 11

I thought I would start the day off right, with a cup of tea and some much needed breakfast. I didn't know at the time how much I would need the energy from my morning meal. I wanted to check my email, but the wireless connection on the hostel's communal laptop wasn't working. I fiddled with it for a little while, but it was morning and my brain is slow enough at that time of day without having to read Norwegian. It wasn't long before I gave up on the laptop and went in search of another machine. (I did find a kiosk in the information centre which became my link to the outside world while I was in Lillehammer)

I had expected to leave that day to meet my American friend in Hamar, so I packed up my stuff and checked out of the hostel. I had no immediate plans to leave the city, so I thought I would explore a little of what Lillehammer had to offer. (This is when I should have put my 20 Kilo pack in a locker at the train station, why I didn't...)

Lillehammer is still living off the '94 Olympic high and the main attractions are the Olympic museum, which was of little interest to me, and the ski jump. The sky jump is at the top of the hill (read mountain) in the city. I had decided I would like to see after my Swedish room mate from the previous night had mentioned he watched people practicing. I thought it would be pretty cool to watch some real ski jumpers, even if it was in the summer.

It wasn't hard to find the ski jump, there were signs everywhere indicating the route and it was at the top of the mountain. There may have been a less circuitous route for those not driving, but it was a nice day for a walk, the rain had let off for a while and the sun was out. It was a long way up the hill, but when I got to the base of the jump, I realized there were stairs to the top. There was only one thing I could do, I had to go up. There was no way I was going to come to this city, get the hill, and not climb the stairs. 40lbs backpack be damned, I am going up. It wasn't exactly a record setting pace, but I did manage to get to the top, with more than one break. Please remember, these stairs are exactly as steep as the ramp the skiers whoosh down to jump over a hundred metres. It's pretty steep.

I did have to duck under the ramp for little while as it started to rain, but at least I was sheltered. While I was hanging out under an Olympic ski ramp, I got a great vantage point as the skier who was practicing that day, went whoosh down the sloop into oblivion. The ramp is covered with an artificial turf that is kept wet with a mister and the skier lands on a very steep section which is of a similar material. Whoosh.... fwump. Very cool.

I stayed at the top for quite a while. It was easier than going those stairs and it was raining. There was a covered terrace with some picnic tables, sitting there was preferable to doing just about anything else. Also the view was nice.

Eventually I began my decent. It was way harder than the ascent. The lactic acid was happily lounging in my legs and no intention of vacating the premises. My legs protested and shook during the long and slow process I can best describe as falling without much style. I eventually made it to the train station and promptly sat down for a good long while. I had some food stashed in my pack, so I had a little picnic and thought about what I was going to do next. I knew one thing above all, I wasn't going to do much. After calling my friend and making plans for the next day, I checked back into the hostel.

My socks had descended into the 7th circle of nastiness, so it was fortunate I had the room to my self. Laundry detail is not something you want to share with a stranger when the quarters were roughly the size of Millhaven's maximum security solitary confinement lockers.

Now that my funky socks and the rest of my clothes were hanging to dry all over the bathroom, I was free to do a lot of nothing. What I really wanted was to use the internet, which of course I could only do if I fixed the Norwegian computer. So I did. I probably would have had it fixed sooner, but there was much flirting with the hostel employee. She had chocolates and asserted I should have some. What? I love chocolate. The fact they were offered by a pretty woman has nothing to do with anything.

The rest of my evening was spent quietly taking care of correspondence and not walking up or down and mountains.