Our first destination is the campsite at the Memurubu hut. From Café Gjendeosen, we have three options to get there:

• By ferry
• On foot along the lake
• By climbing to the top of Veslfjellet (1,743m) and Besseggen (1,638m), then following the mountain ridge before making a steep descent back to the lake.

Note: If you have just 1 day in Jotunheimen, take a morning ferry and come back via ridge or along the lake shore. Don’t do it other way, because if you miss last ferry from Memurubu you will have hard time to get back to Gjendesheim.

Our choice is obvious. We take the third option. Most of the climb offers breathtaking views of Lake Gjende, and though I have been on many treks before, moments like these always remind me why the effort is worth it. The sheer beauty of the landscape makes my mind pause, silencing every other thought—and that is what it is all about.

From the hut, the trail climbs steeply to the ridge before descending back toward the lake. My navigation app estimates six hours of walking, which seems excessive at first. But as we make our way up, I realize it’s not an exaggeration. The trail is rugged, almost a goat path in places, but the views of the lakes and surrounding peaks make every step worthwhile.

The descent is brutal. My old knee injury flares up, getting worse with each step. By the time we reach the hut, I am in a terrible mood, barely able to imagine how I will continue tomorrow—and we are only at the beginning of the trek.

We pay the camping fee and set up our first camp by the lake. We still have plenty of food—dehydrated, of course. The hut offers a few comforts: a place to charge our phones, take a shower, and, if the weather turns, wait out the worst of it before crawling into our tents.

That night, the wind howls across the lake, and the air is damp and cold. I don’t know the exact temperature, but it’s definitely above freezing. My new tent, a single-wall Dan Durston X-Mid Pro 1, is incredibly lightweight, but I haven’t tested it in strong winds before. I wake up several times, worried it will tear or be carried off into the night. As I will learn in the days to come, my fears are unfounded—the tent is far sturdier than I give it credit for.

But the wind isn’t the only thing keeping me awake. A much darker thought lingers: what if my trek is already over? If I can’t continue in the morning, that will be far worse than any storm.

There are two routes to Glitterheim Hut today:

• One over Glittertinden, the second highest peak in Norway at 2,452 meters.
• The other south from the peak of Ryggjehoe at 2,142 meters.

This time, we opt for the easier route with less elevation gain. We’re planning to tackle Glittertinden the next day. After climbing up to a completely soaked stone plateau, we face a whole day of hopping over rocks and crossing numerous rivers. The rain keeps pouring, and we feel like wet chickens. The plateau seems endless, but that’s just part of the trek.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever hiked over a lake, but at the end of the stone field, we encounter a series of lakes called Veslglupjonnen. The path runs right along the edge of the lakes, sometimes even through the water. Well, that’s just Norway. And yes, the rain keeps falling.

It’s late afternoon when we finally descend into the Veodalen Valley. Despite the relatively short distance, we’re exhausted. We briefly consider camping before the hut, but we can’t find a suitable spot, so we head to Glitterheim Hut. We don’t regret it—the camping area is spacious, and the view from our tent is stunning. The Veo River winds through the valley below, providing a peaceful backdrop.

The hut is cozy, and the staff, as always, are incredibly helpful. The gentleman even lends us slippers so we can empty several liters of water from our shoes and let them dry.

We order dinner, and it’s luxurious! Mira thought she was getting dumplings at the self-service counter, but it turns out to be meat. For the evening, we enjoy a bit of classic chess and guitar. The place is buzzing with a high school camp, so we don’t get a seat by the fireplace. Life’s tough sometimes!

We enjoy breathtaking views of Jotunheimen’s highest peaks—until the final push to the summit. Mira continues the last 150 meters of elevation gain alone; I don’t want to risk my knee, and without trekking poles, tackling the icy terrain would be even more difficult.

As soon as Mira disappears from sight, I realize—midway through my photo frenzy—that we never agreed on a precise descent plan. I put on my down jacket and keep taking pictures. From the point marked as Glittertinden Aust on the map, the views are spectacular in all directions. Directly below me to the north, there’s a massive depression that any freerider would love to try. To the south, the distant peaks and glaciers of Jotunheimen stretch toward the horizon.

Just five minutes of focused photography, and suddenly—fog. Thick enough that I can’t see more than ten meters ahead. Now I know for sure: I have to wait for Mira here. I diligently tramp down paths between the stone cairns, which are now completely hidden in the deep snow. Luckily, I have gaiters on, but it’s not exactly a comfortable situation.

After nearly an hour, the fog finally lifts, and I spot Mira at the summit. A wave of relief washes over me, but it still takes a while before he makes his way back down to me, and we can start our descent. Up there, he had no fog at all—just stunning views the entire time.

The descent goes smoothly, and in the evening, we treat ourselves to a warm meal and some relaxation in the hut’s common room. One thing that catches my attention—Mira manages to dry himself off entirely with just a few paper towels meant for drying hands. (I assume that when he reads this, he’ll insist I delete it. 😆) And before anyone asks—we’re both happily married; our wives just don’t see the appeal of these kinds of treks. Not to make myself sound too refined—I dry off using the T-shirt I wore all day, so Mira’s method was definitely the better one.

As Lake Russvatnet unfolds before us, its color seems almost unreal. And, although I never thought I’d say this, I feel like taking a swim—the sun makes a brief appearance. In the end, we settle for sunbathing on the sandy beach. After soaking up some vitamin D, we continue toward the mouth of the lake, where the Russa River begins. There’s a lovely campsite near the bridge over the river, but we’re already determined to finish the trek today.

The path climbs again, and the landscape here reminds me of Scotland. In the cold, windy weather, we (surprise!) arrive at yet another lake—Bessvatnet, the one featured in most Jotunheimen photos. It sits 400 meters above Lake Gjende, and yes, it’s the iconic view from the Bessegen ridge that everyone who visits this area seems to capture.

After a steep descent, we reach a café with the famous view of Lake Gjende. We order coffee. I know, for anyone who’s ever tasted good coffee, this is probably an insult. But paired with this breathtaking scenery and the deep sense of fulfillment that washes over us—even if only for a moment—as another dream becomes a reality, it tastes absolutely perfect.