Dovrefjell 2023 – Muskoxen in the Winter at the limit

Muskoxen in the Winter at the limit.

My most extreme trip so far. I will probably not get any further out of my comfort zone than during these four January days in Dovrefjell National Park. The reason for this are the unbelievably tough conditions here in January with the wind and the cold. After months of preparation and equipping myself with the warmest functional underwear and professional grade photo tools, I go to Oslo, where our international team of photographers meets the two guides Robert Haasmann and Floris Smeets. After a detailed discussion and the last “normal” meal the evening before, the now eight-strong group sets off with dog sleds into the mountains. It’s -13 degrees and I’m afraid of catching a cold, so I’m wearing lots of layers and a very thick woolen hat. After the first, somewhat steeper curve, me and my heavily loaded sled land flat in the deep snow–the astonished dogs whimpering at me in disbelief. Since we are not very good at tobogganing despite the training, we need a long time to get over the steeper half of the way because of the large amount of fresh snow from the previous day. After a short time and several falls with subsequent digging in deep snow, I am completely soaked in sweat. At one point the strong dogs even end up dragging me behind the tilted sled in a Superman’s position until my dropped emergency anchor finally grabs. Our musher boss rushes to help and when I stammer “I can’t go on” she simply says “oh, you are strong enough” and that gives me the last superpowers to get to the flat plateau exhausted but nevertheless having restored at least some of my dogs’ trust into my sled driving skills. At the top, mushers and dogs leave us and we quickly build a sheltered camp in the snow. From now on we are really exposed to the cold, given that there is no stove here. During the first night it was about -20 degrees celsius. My wool hat, sweaty from driving, turns into a lump of ice in seconds and stands in front of the tent like a warning for the rest of the week. My tent mate, a very sporty British retiree, is freezing and the next evening we put heatpacks on our backs as a preventive measure. Everything, absolutely everything freezes out here immediately. My entire travel bag, my nose drops and my earplugs to help against my colleague’s snoring noises are below zero temperature. That’s why we only eat dry expedition food which is mixed with heated snow water. Luckily I have enough walnuts with me, because you can eat them cold right away. Everything I urgently need warm (including nose drops and muesli bars) I take with me in my expedition ‘mummy’ sleeping bag at night. Teamwork is the only thing that counts up here in the freezing Nirvana, because any negligence or overestimation can jeopardize the stay of the entire group. To get to the musk oxen, we put on our snowshoes and climb the surrounding mountains with heavy equipment. For the first time in years there is no bad weather in Dovrefjell with no clouds for days, but it also turns significantly colder than expected due to the clear skies. Our tours, which are perfectly planned by the guides, are truly inspirational, the landscape takes on an almost utopian beauty– I have never experienced a sunrise and sunset with this intensity. We also see musk oxen every day, always in a different formation and environment. When I kneel forward while taking pictures with my snowshoes on, my arms run through the deep snow and suddenly I sink, with my upper body and head tilting forward. My buddies pull me out right away, but to this day I still think about how easy it is to get lost up here. Finally, we manage a relatively strenuous and quick circumnavigation of three bulls at sunrise to have them positioned in just the right light (and with a sufficient safety distance). The colors seems as though they burst around the proud animals. Finally, after almost four days, we slide back into the valley with the dog sled pulling us through a dreamy winter landscape. I don’t fall once and this time I’m only wearing half as many layers. At the bottom we wait together and unload everything, some hug, others play almost childishly with the sled dogs. It is the result of getting your head completely clear, realizing that out there only each other’s warmth and teamwork count. As we jump around in utter bliss (or blissful ignorance?), our musherlady suggests we better put on some more clothes because it’s still only -17 degrees Celsius, the sunny weather aside.