Besseggen 2025: The Rematch (I Finally Got The View)
Quick Block
Fat Cat Scale: 7/10 • View Score: 10/10
If I could text past-me 10 words: “Book the return trip now. The views are real.”
Before (Redemption Planning)
One year later. Almost 365 days of seeing everyone else’s Besseggen photos while I had nothing but fog stories. The Norwegian Tourist Board probably has a support group for people like me.
This time, I obsessed over weather forecasts like a meteorologist. Multiple apps, mountain-specific services, even checked webcams. “Clear skies, unlimited visibility” they promised. I’d heard that before.
But you know what? Sometimes a fat cat needs closure. Sometimes you have to go back to prove to yourself that the views actually exist, that you didn’t hallucinate the entire concept of scenic Norwegian hiking.
The strategy: Earlier start, better conditioning (hah), more snacks, and the kind of stubborn determination that only comes from spending a year looking at other people’s Instagram stories.
During (The Beats)
Beat 1: Late Start, Zero Clouds
10:00 AM, Gjendesheim trailhead. Four hours of driving in my legs, caffeine still circulating, and not a cloud in the sky.
No boat, no dawn‑patrol heroics—just me starting late and hoping the weather gods wouldn’t change their mind.
The lake is glass, the sky that impossible Nordic blue, and I can actually see mountains. With details. And everything. I’m not just hopeful this time—I’m emotionally invested.
I cannot become the person who hikes Besseggen three times.
Beat 2: The Reveal
Climbing from Gjendesheim hits different when you can actually see where the trail goes. What was last year’s terrifying fog-navigation is now, “oh, that’s the line up the ridge.” The cairns that saved my life in 2024 are just polite confirmations today.
Then the payoff: cresting the Besseggen viewpoint and seeing both lakes laid out exactly like the postcards that mocked me for a year—Gjende in impossible turquoise, Bessvatnet in deep blue. I may have actually said “holy shit” out loud.
Beat 3: The Knife Edge (With Vision)
Remember that famous narrow section I walked blind last year? It’s actually narrow. Like, genuinely narrow. With actual drop-offs on both sides. No wonder people take selfies here—you’re literally walking a spine of rock between two valleys.
This time I could see it all. The exposure, the perfect positioning, the reason this hike is famous. It wasn’t just fog-shrouded rock hopping—it was the full Norwegian mountain theater experience.
Every step was the photo I should have taken last year.
After (Vindication and Exhaustion)
Seven and a half hours later, I was done. Not just with the hike—done with the entire emotional arc. The views were real. The hype was justified. I hadn’t been the victim of some elaborate tourism conspiracy.
Here’s the fat‑cat truth: it was easier this time. Not because I suddenly trained — but because I could see. The trail was obvious, the scramble was just rock, not a horror puzzle inside fog and drizzle. And the ridge was packed with people, which weirdly helped; when fifty humans are casually moving over a section, your brain downgrades the danger level.
I didn’t take a train — I drove up from Germany to hit this exact weather window. Totally irrational, totally worth it.
What I learned: sometimes round two isn’t harder, it’s just clearer. Visibility > VO₂ max. The first time the weather won; the second time I knew the line, the risks, and why everyone posts those shots.
Worth every kilometre.
The POV Experience
This time with actual scenery, less existential dread, and proof that Norwegian mountains exist.