MONCKTRIP // MAREK OGIEŃ
How do I know Norway? Oh, I know now. From a height of 30 cm above the ground, picking big red strawberries. Oh, how my back used to hurt, but one had to persevere because it was piecework.
I also remember when I was cleaning Oslo. I was wearing a green-orange reflective uniform, noise-canceling headphones, and lawnmower glasses. Beautiful, elegant Norwegians strolled through the streets while I swept pebbles off the sidewalks with a blower. And there's one thing I'll never forget. It was a short episode that lasted less than a week. I used to paint pig pens. The beautiful Norwegian red dripped from my brush while I swayed back and forth on the lift. The worst part was near the fan. By the third day, I didn't care anymore. I smelled so bad that I had to undress naked outside the house, put my clothes in a big black bag, and leave them outside while I rushed straight to the shower. Even after I washed myself, I still felt like a pig was following me. That was my image of Norway until the end of March this year.
A few months ago, the guys asked me if I wanted to go to Norway with them in a camper van for photography. I didn't even hesitate. The four of us sat down with a map, listed what each person would bring, gathered all the necessary equipment, and hit the road. As we left home, I said goodbye to the shower and my girlfriend. 2,500 km from home, our new home on wheels stood at the Finnish-Norwegian border, and the police, inspecting the apple juice in a glass, asked if we were smugglers. We all burst out laughing. Through snow and blizzards, after 36 hours, we reached Tromso. Lyngen Alps are ours!
For the next 11 days, we climbed the most beautiful peaks I have ever seen in my life. We allowed ourselves to get lost among the magical fjords, passing through small Norwegian villages and marveling at views we don't see every day. From 0 to 900, 0 to 750, from 0 to 800, 0 to 1300, and so on. Every day, freedom. Screw society and their problems.
We set out in solitude, each with a smile on our face. We descended shouting, laughing, and acting like little kids, enjoying complete freedom. Each summit ascent is a separate story. Once you're up there, surrounded by water and fjords on all sides, it looks like an apocalyptic place from the future, the last place where winter reigns. Only the high mountain ranges remain, as people had to move higher because the water flooded the valleys. It's the end; we can't save this planet anymore. All we can do is enjoy what we have. The epic nature of this trip turned into facts in my mind. The moments I remember best illustrate our journey.
On the third, or rather the second day, a shower with damp wipes ceased to matter. Dry shampoo also let me down on the third day. We got into a heated argument about politics on the eighth day. At certain moments, the snowdrifts were so high that it was easiest to take a dump on the street. On the sixth day, we watched our first movie, a romantic comedy about the friendship of two women. The next day, we watched a comedy about homosexuals. On the tenth day, Staszek asked for the twentieth time if any of us had seen his white goggles. Later, he asked if anyone had his headphones. When it was +20°C in Poland, Mikołaj gave up trying; his seals were falling off, and the three of us continued on. Thirty minutes later, Staszek, who was walking ahead of me, was struggling. I braced myself with one foot on a small rock, having no grip at all. Beneath us was a long wall ending in a ledge. The winter wind was blowing, and an unpleasant situation had been going on for 10 minutes. Uncertainty turned into fear, and fear paralyzed the body. The wall on the right disappeared far down, and we had a maximum of 10 meters of ascent to overcome. I'm glad I unclipped my gear and went on foot. Almost every clear night, the aurora danced above our heads.
I don't know how many times we ate pesto, but I know I won't eat it again soon. On the seventh day, we took a warm shower for the first and last time. The next day, we arrived in the Lofoten Islands and unanimously agreed that the foehn wind is warm. On the third day, I jumped naked into the snow. The coldness of the snow in Norway is definitely greater than ours. On the last day, we gained 1300 meters of elevation, and it was the freeride of my life. On the fifth day, chaos ensued, and the question arose, "Have you seen my...?" On the eighth day, my mom (who had never been to Scandinavia) texted me asking if we had been to a fish restaurant and if the food was good. I replied that we had just bought the cheapest bread left in the store for PLN 20. On the fourth day, we decided not to be slobs and sorted our trash. Every morning in the camper, it was around 5°C. In 14 days, we covered 7500 kilometers and circled the Baltic Sea. It was my most beautiful spring.
A big thanks to Staś, T Wardy, Szymon Girtler, Mikołaj Wojciechowski, and myself for the shared journey. It wouldn't have looked so great without the trip with you. By the way, we would like to sincerely thank LYO FOOD and Vibe. Without buttering up, LYO made an amazing impression on us. We took it with us to the mountains, ate it while snowboarding and skiing—it's delicious and without any junk. If anyone is planning a camping trip, long or short, check out LYO. Vibe, without you, we would have withered on this expedition. Thanks a lot, guys, you saved us from thirst every day.
By the way, thanks also to PAJAK, Patagonia, Monck Custom, and Mehow for the split. I fell in love with it big time.
Text and Photos: Marek Ogień // www.ogienphoto.com