Last weekend we went to my family’s cabin in the mountains, in a place called Øyfjell. I had great expectations for this trip because I was finally going to see a “famous” summer mountain pasture not far from our cabin.
After about half an hour on dust roads and forest trails we began climbing up the hill side.
I’m lagging behind my father, now in his seventies, both because he’s in way better shape than me, but also because I stopped each time I saw something to photograph. His calf muscles though … still a man of iron 😉
After about 15-20 minutes of climbing the forest took on a different shape, pine tress became birch trees and the trail flattened. After a few more minutes the forest opened up and revealed the much talked about pasture.
The pasture was divided by a small river we had to cross.
We also met my wife and children who had left a bit earlier.
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