When things get a little harder
It’s snowing onto my tent. I’m opening the zipper and gaze into a low evening sun, yet thin frozen water-crystals blow into my face. Its the end of May and I’m at 850m. The place is called Beitostølen, a ski resort at the southern edge of the Jotunheimen Nasjonalpark. I’ve been here for many hours already. The bad weather conditions didn’t allow me to continue, so I’m waiting for the next day, to take a…