Hiking the Great Waterfall
Throughout early spring, I had explored the surrounding hillsides often and was curious what lay beyond the mountain range. I decided to go on an excursion to a hiking trail that leads to Storfossen, which translates into "large waterfall". Storfossen is one of the largest waterfalls in the Trøndelag region at 40 meters high. It can be reached by following the Homlastien trail through the Homla nature reserve. This nature reserve is a boreal rainforest and home to numerous species of endangered moss.
The morning started out cool and cloudy. Gazing out the window during the train ride, I could see curved, rocky beaches connect that stretched out into the dark water. Colorful houses brightly dotted the banks in stark contrast to the muted, moody tones of the ground. Mist hung over the tops of the hills and hovered just above the water's surface. The heavy-sitting skies above gave the fjord a particularly ancient feel as we snaked along the coastline.
By the time I arrived at the small town of Hommelvik the skies had thankfully passed by and revealed a soft blue sky overhead. The town was charming, with a couple of small cafés and shops, a white chapel in the center of town, and rows of flawless, well-kept traditional Norwegian houses. It was cradled by steep hills on all but the sea-facing side. The trailhead lay just off to the side of the town after a very steep incline upwards along the hillside ridge.
The beginning of the trail started off rocky and hilly. High cliffs rose up on the right side and were topped with moss, dead leaves, and overgrown bushes. It felt wild and ancient. The only sounds were robins chirping in the trees as a small stream trickled by my feet. The white star-shaped Grass-of-Parnassus dotted the trail sides while occasionally creating a tempting path to follow deeper into the forest.
While walking past a large puddle, I noticed a peculiar texture in the water and walked over for further inspection. It was a large cluster of tadpole eggs! I don't recall ever seeing tadpole eggs in person before, and they were a lot bigger than I expected.
I was a little worried about them lying in such a well-trodden area of the path. The puddle of water holding them was I hope they survived the spring.
Shortly after the tadpole discovery, I ascended a hill next to a fenced-off farm field. At first, there were no animals in sight despite seeing hoof prints in the dirt, but after cresting over the hill I saw two shaggy cows, a herd of goats, and a llama. I watched them for a while until they suddenly perked up and charged up across the field. A tractor appeared a moment later, and I realized the animals were excited for their food. It is hilarious seeing a massive, shaggy cow prance around eagerly for its bale of hay.
The path descended sharply, down to the river's edge. It roared and splashed, finally set free from its icy prison all winter, while a lush, mossy forest draped itself across the mountainside to the right. Many of the stones were drenched black and dripping with fresh snowmelt. Since it was still fairly early in the morning, the sun was casting low beams of light through the scattered openings between the tree leaves. At some point, the trail became more of a suggestion rather than a definitive path. It skirted against the river so low and closely at times that I often had to jump and scrambled across rocks and around pools of water that washed up into the path. I was grateful for my sturdy hiking boots.
The trail led through a variety of different terrain, but one of my favorite areas was a flat marshy area filled with fiddle head ferns. Their protective winter carcasses had opened and now lay limp and decaying in the earth as the bright green ferns spiraled up from the center. Ferns did not grow wild in the arid western landscapes that I grew up in. It was surreal to see so many of them curled up like alien tentacles awaiting fresh prey.
In the final stretch, I paused at bridge to admire the sunlight shimmering in the mist produced from a large waterfall hiding behind the river bend. It was a peaceful respite before another treacherous climb up several very steep slopes. Immediately next to this bridge was a slippery hill scattered with loose gravel and stone flakes. It was difficult to get your footing, and thankfully I happened to notice the perfect little walking stick just off to the side to aid me on my ascent. It saved my knees on the final climb as well as the long hike back to town.
Reaching the top of the rocky cascade didn't mean the effort was over. From there, the trail continued into another dense forest with an even more slippery staircase of thick tree roots and perpetually muddy earth. I enjoyed every second of the challenge as I huffed and puffed my way up the vertical slope. There is something exciting about hiking up trails that barely exist, with roots and rocks as your only stepping stones. There is a combination of relying on nature and the creativity of one's mind to see where is safe to step next.
At last, I reached the top of the mountain and entered a quiet, dark forest. The trees stretched high, preventing much light from getting through. Thick moss carpeted the ground, and small pools of water had formed from the snowmelt. Flecks of pollen and dust twinkled above the water whenever a rogue ray of sunlight dashed through the leaves into the forest undergrowth. It felt like a fantasy movie, and I took so much pleasure in the scenery that I almost forgot I was still on a quest to see this large waterfall.
I finally rounded a bend to see the massive waterfall pummeling down the mountainside. There was a small picnic area at the top of a wooden staircase that descended down to the base of the waterfall. Walking to the base of the waterfall was intense, freezing, and blew tons of water into my face when I arrived at the river bank. It was impossible to keep my eyes open to look at it long enough, and I decided not to risk my camera gear with all the water spray. Shivering, I hiked back up the staircase to the picnic area and claimed a free bench as one of the family's packed up to go. I enjoyed some food and the warmer air while watching the waterfall rage below, safely out of reach of its frigid fury. This trip kicked off a season of much hiking and exploration for the year.
