This site is for demonstration purposes only. Storveis is a fictional hiking club. Read more
Six kilometres from the road, and the forecast had promised snow “later”. Later turned out to mean wet, sideways sleet the whole way up.
Nobody talked much. Hoods up, eyes on the boots in front, one cairn at a time.
The stove at Breidablikk takes two logs to wake up, and then it never sleeps. Within half an hour the windows were steamed and eleven pairs of wool socks hung from the drying rack.
Dinner: lentil soup for eleven, from one very large pot.
It had snowed all night. Not sleet. Real, dry, squeaky snow.
Fresh snow swallows every sound. You hear your own breath, the creak of the boots, and nothing else for kilometres.
We drank our coffee on the steps, in down jackets, and nobody wanted to be the first to speak.
The short loop to the tarn, the first footprints of the season. Except we weren't first. A neat line of fox tracks ran ahead of us the whole way, stopping, circling, carrying on.
We never saw the fox. It certainly saw us.
Ice along the shore, black water in the middle, and the whole ridge mirrored in it. Four cameras came out at once.
The youngest of us tested the ice with a stick and declared it “not today”. Good call.
Whist at the long table, a Thermos of cocoa going round, and the oil lamp turned low. Outside the snow kept falling, softly, as if somebody had turned the volume down.
We went to bed at midnight. Some of us went at two.
Every Storveis cabin has a cabin book on the shelf by the door. Guests write the date, the weather, the route, and whatever else they feel like. The oldest one at Breidablikk starts in 1962.
Here is what the weekend looked like, in their own words.
First time at a self-service cabin. I thought it would be cold and basic. It was warm, the bunks were made, and there was a whole shelf of jam. I watched the snow from the window for an hour before anyone else woke up.
Kari, 34, first trip with Storveis
Taught three people to play whist. Lost to all three by eleven o'clock. Went outside for air and the whole cabin was glowing in the snow like a lantern. Best evening of the year.
Jonas, 16, Storveis Youth
Forty minutes up to the ridge in the blue light, just me and the fox tracks. Fresh snow on every peak from here to the glacier. Came down to the smell of coffee and pancakes. Eighteenth year at Breidablikk, still not tired of it.
Marit, 61, cabin host
The clouds were gone. Every peak around the valley had turned white overnight, and the sky was the kind of blue you only get after snow.
Three of us booked the Christmas weekend before we even reached the car.
For the next guests, who may arrive cold and wet.
Floors, steps and every pot. Leave it as you hoped to find it.
Stove out, dampers shut, water drained if it freezes.
Date, weather, route, and a line about your stay.
The Storveis key fits every cabin. Hang it back on your pack.
Pay for the night and anything from the pantry on My pages.
Eighteen beds, a wood stove that never sleeps, and a cabin book waiting for your entry. Members book online and pay member prices.
