Litle Fjellet: My Warmup Hike That Wasn't

Quick Block

Fat Cat Scale: 6/10 • View Score: 7/10

If I could text past-me 10 words: “‘Little’ means nothing here. Still harder than expected.”

Before (The Warmup Delusion)

Litle Fjellet. “Little Mountain.” How cute. How manageable. How perfect for a fat cat who needs an easy win before tackling the serious Norwegian peaks.

The trail description said “short hike with good views.” Eight kilometers, 800 meters of elevation. After researching some of the monster hikes in the area, this looked like exactly what I needed—a confidence builder, a warmup, a gentle introduction to Romsdal hiking.

Classic mistake: trusting anything with “little” in the name when you’re at sea level visiting a country where people casually ski off cliffs.

During (The Beats)

Beat 1: Charming Beginnings

The trailhead starts in an actual fairy tale. Rolling green hills, traditional Norwegian farms, sheep that look like they’re posing for postcards. The path is clear, the incline is gentle, and I’m thinking, “Finally! A hike that won’t traumatize me!”

Twenty minutes in, I’m already taking victory photos. “Look at me, conquering Norwegian mountains with ease!” This is going to be the hike that proves I’m not completely hopeless at this elevation business.

Beat 2: The Reality Check

One hour in: the “little mountain” starts showing its teeth.

The gentle incline becomes a proper climb. The charming farm views disappear as I enter boulder fields that require actual scrambling. My “easy warmup pace” becomes “stop every five minutes to pretend I’m checking my phone.”

But here’s the thing—it’s still beautiful. Proper Norwegian mountain scenery opening up below, the Romsdal valley stretching out, peaks emerging on all sides. This is why I signed up for scenic pain.

Beat 3: The Summit Surprise

The final push to the summit is legitimate mountain hiking. Not “little mountain” hiking—proper “use your hands and question your life choices” hiking. The trail markers become occasional cairns. The path becomes “pick your own adventure through the rocks.”

But then: the summit. And holy shit, the views.

360-degree panorama of Romsdal valley. Mountains in every direction. The kind of vista that makes you understand why Norwegians are so casual about elevation gain—when this is your backyard, everything else is just hills.

For thirty minutes, I felt like a proper hiker. Like someone who belongs on Norwegian peaks.

Beat 4: The Descent Reality

Going down was trickier than going up. Loose rocks, steep sections, and the dawning realization that my legs were more tired than expected from this “easy warmup.”

By the time I reached the fairy tale farms again, I was definitely feeling it. Not destroyed—this isn’t Romsdalseggen-level suffering—but properly worked over. Reminded that there are no easy wins when you’re a sea-level dweller visiting vertical countries.

After (Humble Satisfaction)

Five hours and forty-five minutes later, I was back at the car feeling oddly satisfied. Not because it was easy—it wasn’t—but because I’d managed a Norwegian peak without complete disaster.

My legs were tired but functional. My breathing was labored but not desperate. My confidence was calibrated but not shattered. For a fat cat warmup hike, this was actually perfect.

What I learned: “Little” is relative. “Warmup” in Norway still requires actual fitness. But sometimes the mountains that don’t try to kill you are exactly what you need to remember why you enjoy this masochistic hobby.

Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Just don’t call it a warmup if you live at sea level.

The POV Experience

Featuring: Reasonable amounts of suffering, better views than expected, and only mild existential questioning.