It looks like close to a 100 people have been killed. It is simply not to believe. Norway is such a small and safe country. But now terror has hit at full force. The bomb went off at around 15.30 on a Friday in the middle of the school holidays. Luckily this meant that less people was at work.

I normally walk past just by where the bomb exploded every day on my way to work. So does many of my colleagues. As far as I can establish none of our employees have been hurt, as many were away on vacation, and the ones who worked left office a little bit early – just minutes before the bomb. I am having a hard time accepting that the victims of the explosion could just as well have been myself or one of my colleagues. If this had been last Friday, and not this Friday I would have been at work, or just about to leave as the bomb went off.

Today most of Oslo city centre is closed off by the army. But the clean up operation is already well on its way, but Oslo is sure to be scarred for a long time. I took this little video snippet today;

It is hard to know what to make of this unfair and devastating event. It seems a single Norwegian madman is behind this attack on our democracy, and not some terrorist group from a far-away land. Some people are calling for the death penalty to be introduced in Norway now. Death seems like an punishment too easy for a person like this. But a Norwegian luxury hotel jail doesn’t seem right either.

I wonder what this will mean for the Norwegian society, but hope that it will make us stronger and more unified. And that we will care less about the petty political discussion about what to do with our oil millions. And I sincerely hope that fear will not prevail so that there will be inflated new security measures. The truth unfortunately is that no type of security will ever keep you safe from this type of event. Only improved intelligence can help. I know that I certainly will not let my life be hampered in any way because of this.

My heart-felt condolences to all those who have been affected by this tragedy.

Lastly, I took some photos going through Oslo today. The sight is not what you usually expect from quiet little Oslo.

Iran is an absolutely amazing destination. The most friendly people you can imagine, and some incredibly beautiful landscapes and places. And pretty much entirely free of other Western tourists. We counted a total of six other people we suspected to be Westerners during our 12 days in the country.

Mt. Sabalan is located in north western Iran, in the province of Meshkinshahr Ardabil. We stopped our Landcruiser in Meshkinshahr to ask further directions, as the road signs were not intuitive (at least not without reading Farsi). Nobody spoke English, but an extremely helpful goldsmith closed his shop and took us to his friend, an English teacher. The English teacher in turn interrupted his class to explain to us the directions onwards. Then we had to teach the class for a few minutes, before the goldsmith himself guided us out of town. After exchanging emails and being invited for dinner upon return from the mountain he reluctantly let us go. I have never experienced hospitality like this before.

Below are some photos from Mt. Sabalan.

So, after Meshkinshahr you have to go to Lahrood and then to the mineral springs at Shabil. Shabil is at about 2700 m.s.l. and there is a big parking lot there, where lots of old, beat-up Landrovers await to drive you up to Base Camp. It is possible to buy something to eat here, but it is better to buy supplies in Meshkinshahr.

After managing to agree with some of the Landrover drivers to take us to base camp the following morning we had something to eat and went  to sleep. It is possible to pitch your tent next to the parking lot for a nominal fee. But we rented a room (completely void of all fixtures, except for a thin floor carpet and a dangling light bulb) at something that resembled a restaurant just before the parking lot. They served fresh fish from their own pool. Fish farming and short travelled food at a new level.

At 06.00 the following morning we woke up a couple of Landrover drivers (they all sleep in their cars) before finding the one who was supposed to take us up to Base Camp. In hindsight, it would probably not have been a bad idea to walk up, in order to better acclimatize and avoid altitude sickness.

The mosque at Mt. Sabalan base camp. About 3600-3700 m above sea level.

Unfortunately the weather turned on us, and we had to turn around after a few hours of walking, at about 4.000 – 4.100 m.s.l. The fog became so think that we couldn’t see more than a few meters ahead of us.

We decided not to spend another day hoping for better weather, and after a very refreshing bath in the hot springs at Shabil, we jumped back in the car and set off for Tabriz, Teheran, and our next climb: Mt. Damavand.

The Damavand mountain is shaped a bit like Mt. Fuji - but is significantly higher

At 5.671 m.s.l. Damavand is higher than both Elbrus and Mt. Blanc, and the highest mountain in Iran. Some sources indicate that the mountain might in fact be some meters lower, but the official figure is still 5.671. Unfortunately my GPS ran out of battery before reaching the summit so I didn’t get to check myself.

There is a pretty good source on climbing Damavand maintained here.

We had called ahead and had a guide (actually two) meet us at the Polour camp (2.250 m.s.l.) where we slept over. Early next morning we drove to the Saheb al Zaman mosque (Camp 2) at 3.020 m.s.l.), and started walking from there to Bargah (Camp 3) at 4.200 m.s.l.) We spent about 4,5 hours going up at a very moderate pace. The thin air was very noticeable as we went to sleep at Bargah. The acclimatization we did at Sabalan obviously was not enough, and Lars had some problems the first night.

While Lars was trying to regain control over his body I meet a deeply spiritual Iranian with a big moustache, who wanted to tell me all about the “love philosophy”. His English wasn’t all that good, but I think if I understood him correctly the world will go under in 12 years. He seemed a bit saddened about this prospect, but spent his time in the mountain to reflect, meditate and worship the mountain.

The next day we just walked to 4.700 m.s.l. and spent the rest of the day relaxing. The views are pretty much unbelievable at this altitude, and we were much more lucky with the weather than at Sabalan.

Third day we got up at 3.40 am, and started walking at 5.00 am. After three or four hours it was starting to get tougher, and the high altitude headache was starting to creep forward. We were going extremely slowly, both to avoid altitude sickness, but also because Lars had some serious shortness-of-breath. But we all got to the top at about 13:00, after eight hours of walking. Just near the top there is some sulphuric gases that can be quite unpleasant when you are having trouble to breath in the first place.

Lars and myself at the Damavand summit after 8 hours walking. Tired, but happy.

At the top I suddenly got a new surge of energy, and climbed on the rocks, took lots of photos of the view, the crater and the other people there. Tired, but happy. After 30 minutes or so we start walking down again. So tired at first break that both Lars and myself almost feel asleep. But as we approached the shelter at Baragh the head started to clear and the body felt better.

We spent another 3,5 hours going back to Baragh from the summit. We had some chocolate, pineapple in a can and something to drink, and readied the body to walk another few hours down to Camp 2.

We were back at the Polour Camp at about 22.00, after approximately 15 hours of walking that day. It is incredible how quickly you forget the pain, and only remember the sense of accomplishment. At Polour Camp all the beds were taken – as it was the Iranian weekend (Thursday night), and we had to sleep on the floor. But that didn’t matter. We got a short shower after midnight, and then crashed and slept like we’ve never sleepen before.

The infrastructure around Damavand was surprisingly good, especially the Polour Camp and the shelter at Baragh were of a high standard. Every weekend lots of Iranians from Teheran try to climb the mountain. It would be possible to get to the top in two days – according to our guide he could climb from Baragh to the summit in less than three hours, but most people would probably be advised to spend three days.

It seemed that Sabalan was actully more difficult to climb, in that there were more big boulders and volcanic gravel, while Damavand had a more established and distinct path.

A truly magnificent climb. Check out some of the photos from the climb;

Back then I was working for a community radio station in Adelaide, and I liked to play around with recording equipment. During the village I recorded some of the lullabies sessions, and after the village Rasmus took the recordings and burnt some CD’s to those who wanted them. I don’t know how many recieved them, but for those who didn’t I found all the original files. Inclduing the classic Go Banana! (Right click to save the files to your computer).

I also found the CD cover, which I made back then. Here for you to download: CDFRONT.pdf and CDBACK.pdf.

Lullabies

1. Yawning in the morning
2. CISV Song
3. Dam dam di di
4. Bomfiara
5. Kiitos
6. Let’s stand and sing together
7. Go Banana!
8. Janita’s laughter
9. Loud, loud Bang Bang
10. C.I.S.V
11. Leaving on a Jetplane
12. Annie’s Song
13. Julia’s laughter
14. I am Australian
15. The bearsong
16. I want to linger
17. It’s time to say Goodnight

Ghostnight

1. Ghostnight prologue
2. Ghostnight instructions – All languages
3. Ghostnight instructions – English
4. Ghostnight epilogue

National night songs

1. Norway
2. Sweden
3. Guatemala
4. Great Britain
5. Denmark
6. Costa Rica – El punto Guanacasteco
7. USA
8. Brazil – No tabuleiro da Baiana
9. New Zealand
10. Staff
11. Australia
12. Germany
13. Y.M.C.A

Salut

1. Goodnight

Looking around Old Havana earlier this year

At the top of the ski lift in Gudauri ski resort in the Caucasus-mountains, Georgia. Approx. 3000 above mean sea level. February 2011.

See more about Gudauri.

However, right now Delhi and Udaipur are next stops. My friend Abhishek has invited me to his wedding. I am curious as to what an Indian wedding is like. What I know is that it is going to be in Udaipur, a city known for its palaces, and that it’s likely to be hundreds of guests. I also know that the weather forecasts says it’s going to be 42 degrees celcius. Hot hot hot. I bought a new linen suit, as I figured my dark woolen suits probably would be inappropriate both for the climate and colourful Indian wedding receptions.

Here is a short update photo:

Here is Abhishek and his bride just after the main ceremony 14 May 2011

It’s almost like mid-summer, and it’s only mid-April. Are we to thank global warming? It’s been a long and cold winter. I’ve been shoveling snow off the roof of the cabin at Voss – after walking up with snowshoes on. 3m of snow removes the need for a ladder. However, the snow is melting now, and the skiing wouldn’t be very good anyhow.

Tulips in full bloom in Norway spring 2011 (the photo was taken two or three weeks after the plunge in the sea)

Instead we are enjoying the spring in Oslo. It’s almost like summer – just better weather. Bygdøy, Lindøya, Sognsvann, Frognerparken. It’s just a matter of laying down on the grass and enjoying.

And today 22nd April I will write down in my calendar as first sea bath of the season in Norway. It wasn’t warm, but I ducked.

Happy Easter!

We’d planned the trip to Cuba for a long time. Tickets, hotels, time off work, babysitter for the week and so on. By the will of God, and the massive eruption of Eyjafjallajökull on Iceland, a cloud of ashes closed the airspace over Norway literally only hours before Tuva was supposed to board a plane and meet me in Moscow. And then the airspace just stayed closed. As soon as we realized we’d never get to Cuba, we bought new tickets to Nice a few days later. But Eyjafjallajökull just kept spewing out lava and ashes. No way in or out of Norway. So, while waiting for air transport to open again in Northern Europe, I caught a plane to see a good friend in Azerbaijan. Not quite as romantic as drinking mojitos in a grandiose hotel lobby on Cuba, but oh well.

The closest I got to volcanoes in Azerbaijan where these weird cute little mud volcanoes. Eerie feeling having them bubble their gases out of the ground all around. But pretty cool too.

We also had a look at one of the locations for James Bond’s The World is not enough, the oil field Bibi-Heybat. By the way – the big ugly oil field definitely does not lead to a forest.

There are quite a lot of oil and industry near Baku. Apparently the oil field Bibi-Heybat has some of the most polluted soil in the world. It doesn’t surprise too much when you see the oil is literally flowing around. The maintenace budget doesn’t seem to be the highest either.

The I got to experience something on the totally opposite side of the environmentally friendly scale. Short-travelled food. Consuming where the food source is. We went for a mountain walk at Xizi. Sometimes, when a meal takes a long time to be served, you jokingly complain that “the cook probably had to go kill the animal before serving.” Well, here he did. In fact, as soon as we placed our order the guy run out to the hen house and cut the head of two hens. Mmmm… Fresh meat!

Check out some more photos from the trip here.

I haven’t had Coopers since I lived in Australia, but it still tastes just as sweet. Unfortunately Ciudad Condall only have the Pale Ale, and not the more fun Sparkling Ale – but since this is the first time I’ve found Cooper’s outside of Australia I am prepared to let that pass. Good on’ya, mate!

The team;

• Lars “I have all the equipment in the store (and a pretty bad sunburn)” Ragnar
• Finn “medic with a sunburn” Børre
• Eirik “the second”
• and yours truly

Lars has now learnt to apply the sun block before entering the sun. Except for this, a strong team to explore the Caucasus with, as all speak Russian, and with the honorable exception of Eirik “the second” nobody had ever been at altitudes above 5000m before. And to be honest – when Eirik “the second” climbed Kilimanjaro – he did it with in a group of 8 tourists that had a total of 24(!) guides and porters. Now it was just the four of us.

My own claims to hiking at high altitudes are quite modest. I’ve been above 3000m a few times, amongst them at Mount Agung in Indonesia and in Sierra Nevada in California. And I’ve been at the top of Mount Kosciuszko, which some count as one of the seven summits. It is disputable if Kosciuszko, and not Puncak Jaya, should be considered the highest mountain of the Australian continent. Regardless it is hardly a challenge to get to the peak at 2228m.

So – nothing wrong with the experience level. So here we were. Sitting in the kitchen of some friendly Balkarian lady, who called her kitchen a cafe. Most of us would just call it a kitchen with two tables. Our driver had assured us that we could get anything we wanted there. He was right. As long as we only wanted the local dish khichini (a pancake like dish of potatoes and cheese), and cold chicken we really could get anything we wanted.

Her bar was in a plastic shopping bag, which she conveniently just left at our table. A few bottles of beer and vodka. Anything you could desire basically. And we found out that when the bar ran out of anything, the enterprising hostess would procure further drinks at the “bar” next door.

Before we managed to settle the bill (an astounding $30 for the four of us) Albert, a self-declared “kommersant”, or merchant, had given us an interesting insight in the honour codes of the people of Caucasus. Also, he introduced us to a whole universe of drinking rules. Never drink without a toast etc. This was quite confusing, especially for Finn Børre who always got it wrong. Accordingly he was repeatedly punished by having to down his drink. A warmer welcome I don’t think it is possible to get for foreigners coming to Kabaradino-Balkaria.

We made our goodbyes to Albert and drove to Azau. This is the village at 2350 where the ski lift starts from. You can ride three different ski lifts all the way up to 3850m. This is not cheating. It is saving time. So after an acclimatizing climb to the top of Mount Cheget at around 3400m the first day, we took the ski lift up to the barrels camp next morning.

At the barrels we are already in snow. Elbrus is covered by a glacier. Long story short – we spent three days acclimatizing and exploring the mountain up to about 4700m before we attempted the peak the fourth night. Even though he had the hottest gear, Lars also had the lowest tolerance for the thin air. After a painstaking 10 hour hike starting at 02.00 at night, Lars had the dubious honour of joining the “I puked at 5642m”-club. We’ll see to it that he gets the shirt later, as they were temporarily out of stock in Azau.

At 5642m above sea level this air sure is thin. You don’t have the energy to take many steps at a time if you have not spent lots of time at those altitudes lately. We all got up, and the view both on the top, and on the way up was worth the effort. See the pictures.

When we eventually got down again, and had recovered sufficiently, we decided to get drunk to celebrate. For reasons unknown to me, Finn Børre managed to get up early the next morning and catch his flight back home. The rest of us discovered that there was a counter terrorism operation going on, and that our freedom of movement in the Baksan valley would be restricted. The valley is bordering to Georgia, and neighbour with North Ossetia, and close to Chechnya and Dagestan. We heard on the news that there were some attacks on government troops, and seeing that we were not permitted to do any further hiking, decided to skip to Pyatigorsk.

And what a pleasant surprise that was. From the (badly tasting) mineral hot springs to the loud taxi driver, who told us about his model daughter who had married a French millionaire movie producer and moved to Switzerland. Pyatigorsk is a kurort (a health resort) filled with sanatoriums. They even have their own Institute of kurortology. It is a beautiful city of 140.000 inhabitants with lots of pre-revolution buildings. We had no problems filling the time – from swimming in the local lake, to jumping of a mountain in paragliders.

Check out the pictures.

In April the midnight sun is already up and shining in Longyearbyen, the ”capital” of Svalbard and the worlds northernmost family community. It certainly feels strange in the middle of the night that the sun shines brightly – there is nowhere to hide.

In the rules of the ski race it is written; “Due to danger of attack from polar bears (which is valid all over Svalbard), there are armed guards along the track on snow scooters. The participants should not carry weapons.” However, we didn’t see any polar bears, but had time to visit some big seals, who were lazing in the sun.

About 2000 people live in Longyearbyen. And on days like this it is understandable why they choose to get away from it all. The place is almost on the north pole. Actually it is a base for many going to the north pole. Like my aunt, who we meet on her way back, as she was celebrating her ascent to the top of the world.

I’ve always avoided Thailand like a pest. The stories about backpacking there always put me off. Furthermore, I always thought that “Since everybody goes there it must surely be destroyed long ago. Just like Mallorca and the Canary Islands.” But sun and summer was needed in the middle of winter, and Thailand offered warm beaches, and affordable airfares. To make sure the experience was bound to be terrible, we bought a Russian charter trip from Moscow to Pattaya.

But it turned out the trip wasn’t terrible at all. Save our Russian travel companions and Pattaya. Strangely, it seemed more Thai people spoke Russian than English in our part of the city. Pattaya has a reputation for its liberal attitude towards love for sale, and we only spent a night at our pre-paid hotel there before finding real paradise at the island Ko Chang.

Everything is easy in Thailand. Everything is cheap. And everyone is friendly. The contrast to Moscow is enormous. At Ko Chang We stayed at a wonderful small place called Saffron by the sea. It’s sort of a “back-to-nature” type place. Run by two sisters, Ding and Ban, and their older brother, this resort only has seven rooms and the best Thai restaurant I’ve been to. No need to leave for meals. Highly recommended.

We spent Christmas Eve outside in the garden at Saffron, and honestly I didn’t miss home a single second. In Thailand I had time to scuba dive, snorkel, kayak and simply laze at the beaches. We also found time for a short shopping spree in Bangkok.

After recharging the batteries we headed back to Norway to show off our enviable tan. Norway is not a tropical place in January. It’s dark and cold. But the woods are wonderful. I’ve gotten my skies out of storage, and managed to do a few practise runs from Frognerseteren. The atmosphere is magic – especially if you get there early, or late. Just avoid the crowds. This practise can by much needed. I am planning to participate in the Svalbard ski-marathon in April. The worlds nothernmost cross country ski race. (79 degrees north). Snow or beaches? Yes, please.

Written on Aeroflot SU212 for Moscow