We took it slow today.

After two long days in the mountains, Čenda’s paws were sore, and I could see he needed a break. A few kilometers before reaching Road 450, we finally met up with Stina and made it back to the car together. Honestly, it felt really good.

This was day eight of my “run” across Norway — though to be fair, a lot of it so far has been more walking than running. I expected that, but still, I was feeling drained. The southern jungle terrain had taken its toll on both body and motivation, and the constant 30+ degree heat hasn’t exactly helped. I “love” heat just about as much as I love asphalt — so, not at all.

I decided to keep this day short — just 11 km — to finish video edits, rest my absolutely wrecked ankles (which have already had a few close calls), and prepare for what’s coming: a 150-kilometer unsupported crossing of the northern Setesdal Highlands, all the way to Haukeliseter, where Hardangervidda begins. It’s a tough, exposed section, and heading into it tired and broken wouldn’t be smart.

I’m way behind the 50 km/day pace I originally imagined — mostly thanks to the southern terrain and the spoopy amount of time I’ve spent on social media. These reels and updates take hours every single day, and if I want to make it through the mountains in one piece, I have to step away from the screen and just move. That means: less phone, less posting, more running. I’ll still be filming everything important with my bigger cameras — those clips will be part of the upcoming NPL film and series — but you probably won’t hear much from me for the next few days.

If you want to follow my detailed route, I upload daily progress to Strava under my name, Petr Pavlíček.Until next time — wish me luck.

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I (Stina) woke up not too late, not too early — somewhere in that cozy middle zone. I was still in bed when Petr called and said they were on the way down from the mountain, not too far from the meeting point. He asked if I could head up to meet them — and bring the big backpack in case Čenda needed a ride. His paws had had a rough couple of days. Also, they’d run low on food after an extra unplanned night out, so Petr was running on empty.

I jumped into action — packed the backpack, threw together a bit of trail food (banana, chocolate, and of course, cheese for the little wolf), and started driving. This time I headed to our backup meeting point, a different trail access up on the plateau. From there, I hiked out to meet them.

The weather was mixed — cloudy, a little rain, a little sun — but it was fresh and nice, and the landscape up there is absolutely magical. I really enjoyed the hike out. A few kilometers in, I finally spotted them coming toward me. Wet, tired, sore... basically a broken duo, but still moving forward, still fighting. Honestly, I was so impressed by them both.

I unpacked the survival snacks, and I think they helped a bit — some new energy sparked up, and we all walked back to the car together.

We then drove down from the mountains toward Ådneram/Suleskard, looking for a place to rest. We first tried a local camping area, but it was totally closed — apparently because no one else was there (go figure). Luckily, I found a DNT cabin nearby that had both electricity and showers. We got the key from the local shop, and finally… finally… we could clean ourselves up, relax, and breathe.

I cooked a solid pasta bolognese (hopefully solid, anyway), and after returning the cabin key, we found a quiet spot nearby to park and stay for the night.Petr took the rest day he really needed — and I’m so glad he did.

Tomorrow, the real beast begins: a 3-day, 150 km unsupported crossing of Setesdalsheiene.

No shortcuts, no signals, no resupplies. Just Petr, the mountains, and whatever he can carry on his back.

So wish us luck —Especially Petr. He truly is a beast.