ALL THE BAD IS GOOD FOR SOMETHING...

So instead of rushing and limping until late night through the harsh mountains of northern Femundsmarka, I spent a totally peaceful evening and night in this absolutely magical old cabin. I had already passed here during my 2021 and 2022 NPL runs, and both times I sadly thought how amazing it would be to stay here. But I didn’t. This time I was forced to. Did I attract it last time? Who knows...

After a very warm night—despite being without any sleeping bag or duvet—I woke before 5 am. The old dark cabin was still warm, and I immediately touched my hurt instep and shin. It was very stiff. The instep bones hurt a lot, but that’s not a problem—I could still run with that. But the shin muscle was dead.

I started walking and every step was very unpleasant pain. I have a very high pain tolerance from my long martial arts past, but this wasn’t pleasant at all. Still, pain is just pain—I would run through it anyway if I knew it wouldn’t totally destroy further progress. But I knew it would...

Every step had two very painful points or phases. So I realized very soon that I’d be happy just to reach the car today, and I had to forget about continuing further into the next, technically harder and totally pathless NPL section.

Morning in Femundsmarka

It was a beautiful foggy morning. I had only two small pieces of bread, since I had planned to run Femundsmarka in just one day yesterday, not two. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem—if I were faster today. But no chance.

Behind Muggsjølia there were some wooden planks over the swamps, several runnable kilometers. But on the flat planks it was even worse. The only steps that hurt less were uphill. I passed Ljonasvollen and walked slowly without food toward the highest mountain of Femundsmarka, Stoviglen.

At the saddle I didn’t continue on the rocky trail that enters Sweden. My strictly clean style of crossing Norway means I avoid asphalt and also Sweden or Finland completely. So I was very slowly walking on the side of the rocky Tverrviglen mountain, then started to descend toward the lake Storhåen. Going down was the worst for the shin, but I numbly kept moving.

Lower in the valley there were bushes and swamps. Perfect for my dead leg 😀. Crossing a wide, strong river flowing out of the lake—basically on one leg without poles—was “fun.” I can’t believe the current didn’t take me. Still, the cold water gave a few minutes of relief.

What was left was about 8 km through swamps to Vauldalen. A perfect clean crossing without entering Sweden. At least that was the plan. (In 2022, when I successfully finished the historically first clean crossing of Norway, I also had to avoid Sweden or Finland in many hard, steep places.)

I reached the car. My leg was dead—numb, hard to even stand on. No wonder after doing about 150 painful km over the last four days. But I did all I could... 🤷🏻‍♂️🥹

Next section ahead

The almost 50 km NPL section from Vauldalen to the big lake Nesjøen is one of the toughest. Basically no trail except the first few km of wet ATV path through mud and swamps. After that, pure off-trail with steep climbing on slippery, loose rocks and slabs to avoid entering Sweden. Last time I did it in one day, but I arrived at the lake late at night, exhausted even on two very healthy legs.

I checked the weather forecast and got a shock... Absolutely shitty, stormy, rainy weather in all of central Norway. North wind up to 30 m/s, snowing in my selected mountains, and bad conditions for all the next 10 days. Completely impossible to limp through such hard terrain in such weather with a half-dead leg.

On Glittertind, the second highest mountain in Norway, about a week ago, I faced similar weather—but then I was fit and strong. And even then it was hard.

Damned leg...

What pisses me off most is that I know it’s nothing serious. It’s “only” totally overloaded, but it needs at least 4–6 days of absolute rest. That’s a deal breaker after already losing so many long days.

I must finish this NPL latest by September 24th. I have two very important paid projects with deadlines at the end of September. And after that, the second part of our bigger NPL 2025 project is planned to start.

So... something outside my comfort zone. Something I don’t even like. But it’s been a huge question mark in my head for years.

Running from Nordkapp back south to Lindesnes... on the road.

Something I really hate. Something I would normally never do and have always considered stupid. But at the same time, it’s a huge sporting challenge. I want to know how my slow, hard, wilderness NPL style transfers into speed—if I put the same energy onto “stupid” but fast roads.

On the roads you don’t need to:

• Carry a heavy backpack (in wilderness I often had 10+ kg, sometimes 15 kg).

• Navigate (on the road you just run straight).

• Worry about food, water, or dry clothes—you can get them anytime.

• Carry a tent or stop at exact meeting points.

On the road, the same energy makes you much faster—sometimes more than 5x faster. You can run whenever you still have some power, or until pain allows.

Monster training

I always took the wilderness version of Norge på langs as “monster training” for this insane southbound road run. I wanted to test how much I could do.

In 2022, after 2,986 brutal wilderness kilometers, I was tough as hell. Asphalt or gravel is fast and easy compared to that. But road running has its own trap: no matter how good your engine is, it depends on how strong your joints and tendons are. Can they handle the endless monotonous steps, always at the same angle? I have no clue. I’ve never even run a marathon on asphalt.

I was curious how far I could run in one month. Hopefully all the way...?

Decision time

I already did this clean route in 2022. I dedicated years to it. I wanted to be the first person to ever do it. And I succeeded. It was brutal, it was mental, and I gave everything. With the help of my amazing friend Radka Monksová as support, we left our souls and bodies out there.

That enormous motivation and spirit wasn’t fully present this time. I felt it from the start. It was good, but not the same. The curiosity was missing. I often felt like I was filming the same words, the same shots, again and again. We already have an amazing story from 2022. Now I just wanted to go faster, to adjust a few trail parts to make it wilder. Ninety percent of that was already done further south. Only one part near Skorovatn was left, and I can still do it later.

Here in Vauldalen, I realized I had zero chance to finish this wilderness NPL in September. I did only about 1,130 km out of ~3,000. But those 1,130 km were done in the best possible style, with almost no asphalt crossings, and I made several sections much harder and nicer. I’m proud of what me and Stina did anyway.

Why not continue later?

Waiting for the foot to heal would mean losing too much time. I also considered doing my paid work now while healing. But that would mean traveling 2,700 km extra, and then it would almost certainly be impossible to finish cleanly.

Why? Because it’s already snowing heavily in some places. In 2022 I was incredibly lucky—dry weather, no snow until October. But now? Impossible. Some steep slabs in the wildest parts need to be dry, clean rock. In winter style, those sections would be blocked.

We spent three heartbreaking days in Vauldalen. On day 3 the leg was better—I could maybe go slowly with poles—but logic told us to change the plan. The heart didn’t want to give up. It feels stupid even now, two days later, back in northern Norway. But that’s life.

No regrets—just change

I don’t regret much about missing wild places in the north. I live mainly in northern Norway and have already visited many of them since 2022. I can go back anytime. What I hate is giving up. But this time it makes sense.

So I must think positively—turn the pain into new motivation. The NPL continues. Just differently.

Plan now:

We went home to finish the work that was supposed to be done after NPL in late September. Heal the foot properly. Train a bit on asphalt.

As soon as that’s done, we’ll go to Nordkapp and start a 30-day run south. We’ll see how far it goes. Maybe it will be easier than wilderness. Maybe 50 km in the mountains translates into much more on the road. I have no clue. But I want to find out.

Maybe it will be easy... but I don’t think so. Maybe it will be even harder on my joints, and we’ll fail again. That’s the risk, and I’m afraid of it. I hate to lose. But I’ll give it my best—just like I gave to the wilderness run now.

If you want to understand better what happened, read the texts in my three previous NPL activities here on Strava. I’ll also soon post a detailed article and video explaining everything and the new plan.

The NPL project is not over. It will just dramatically change—maybe into an even bigger challenge.

Ok... what happened...