The next day we had promised ourselves a walk to the highest point on the island. There were information boards showing the different routes and, where we had been excellent signposts and way markers. However we chose a route that didn’t seem to be marked and all we had was a photo of the information board map to guide us. After several false starts and wrong turns we eventually found the first track that took us through the trees to the village of Hummeras (about 8-10 houses).  From there we were uncertain about the track as the only one we could find was signposted to somewhere we didn’t want to go, but we followed it a short way to investigate the loud bleating and clanging noises we could hear. What we found was a farmer with a small flock of around 80 traditional Norwegian sheep and lambs. They were penned while he checked and sheared them, although he told us that the fleeces were of no value apart possibly from in craft markets. The sheep live out year round in the hills and lamb without help. He said he farmed all up the side of the fjord, which presumably was where his profit came from. We were scratching our heads about where to go next and he told showed us where our path went and said it was easy to follow as there were red markers along the way. He also told us there was a path down the other side we could use for the descent, which led to a track used in the old days by horse drawn waggons. He had left his ATV there when he went to collect the sheep off the hillside.

The information board picture which was our only map

  A more obvious path

   Norwegian sheep and farmer

We thanked him and ploughed onwards and up. I guess he knew the terrain so well it was easy for him to know where the path went but for us it wasn’t at all obvious and the red marks were few and far between and very worn and faded. At times it was quite a tough scramble and we’d only just started. The top, with its distinguishing radio mast, looked a very long way up indeed. The path was also very wet following heavy rain in the night and when we reached a small waterfall we were very unsure if we were on the right path. We scouted around, walked to a high spot to see if we could spot anything, and were on the verge of turning back when we had one last attempt by following the waterfall up and found a red mark on the rocks above it. After that we kept going. We took a couple more wrong turnings and there were some places where a hand was necessary to pull the shorter member of the party up a particularly featureless rock, but we made it, unscathed apart from wet feet.  From the lower reaches it had looked a long way up, although it was only 291m, but we had started at sea level, which is unusual for hill walkers.

  The waterfall where we lost the path for a while

  The view from where we went while looking for it

Quite wet underfoot but on the right track believe it or not

    We made it

Neither of us wanted to go back the way we had come. It would have been very tricky so we were grateful when we found the promised path off the other side, this time with blue markers. It was obviously a more popular route as the marks were more plentiful and the way was generally easier. Before long we reached the promised wagoner’s’ track and after a testing time on a steep road section with many hairpins (hard on the knees) we were soon drying our feet and enjoying a nice cup of tea.

Easier path on the way down

  Wet socks can get into uncomfortable positions

   We made it back to the wagon track and the farmer’s ATV

  On the home straight (except it wasn’t!)

A review of the weather made us change our minds about moving on. While we had been walking in the shelter of the rocks and trees, it had been blowing F6 out at sea and whenever the view allowed we could see the white horses. It was coming from the north west and although abating on Saturday the sea wouldn’t have had time to die down completely and the wind would be on the nose, so we decided to stay another day and catch up with jobs and laundry.

     Rough seas outside the fjord

On Saturday there were many more people about in the town. The peace of the harbour was shattered by the sound of power tools and garden equipment, as everyone caught up with jobs before summer starts. In the afternoon many motor cruisers came in and tied up in a group on the inner pontoon and the wall. They also tied to the bridge to shore , which there was a notice forbidding and spread chairs all over the pontoon, which the rules also indicated was not to happen. We didn’t feel I could tell people how to behave in their own country, but we were surprised by their flagrant disregard for something designed to give everyone a good experience. They were motor boaters.