Stairway to Heaven

At the foot of Florli's 4,444 steps, Hessel is already waiting for us with a wide smile. He wears a worn-out cap with the power plant's logo on it, as if it were a badge of honour. It's just past 7 a.m., the early morning light reflecting on the water. The fjord is waking up — so am I, but slowly. The only ferry of the day has just dropped us off at the hydropower station on the peninsula. I stare up at the 740 metres of elevation, croissant and weak coffee in hand. Seriously, what kind of breakfast handles this?

With an encouraging nod and a grin, Hessel asks cheerfully: 'Ready for the climb?' My legs scream 'no', my mind demands a chair, and my enthusiasm? It clearly needs coffee. The 4,444 steps tower above us. Endless. And yet I place my foot on the first one. Step. Another step. And another. There's no one else in sight. It feels as though we have the fjord to ourselves for a moment.

That fjord is Lysefjord, one of the best-known fjords in southern Norway, with Preikestolen and Kjerag as its most famous tourist draws. Right between those two iconic rocks, we fill our lungs with the cold air. Our breathing quickens. Step by step. Hessel walks ahead. We follow, locked into the rhythm of a metronome. 'This step here?' Hessel taps a wooden plank. 'I replaced it myself last year. I call it my free-Sunday project. Let me know later if it felt comfortable.' Admittedly, even after an hour of nonstop climbing, the transplanted Dutchman keeps his sense of humour intact.

As we keep climbing, Hessel tells us more about his special bond with Florli. 'I first came here in 2011 for a nature project.' He points to the main building of the power plant below. 'Now I run this place together with my partner. We turned it into a visitor centre and also run a small bar next to it. When you come back down from the top, you really have to stop by for a local beer.' His passion for Florli and for nature is contagious. Hessel and his partner have built a small community where stories and experiences come together — a place where hikers find not just a rest stop, but a glimpse of their lives and their view on sustainability.

During a rare pause to catch my breath, I look around me. The landscape is slowly changing. Instead of walking among the trees, I'm now looking down on a green patchwork of forest below.

At the top, with trembling legs and a quiet sense of victory, we spread out a blanket by Lake Ternevatnet, surrounded by sandy rocks. The water is so pure that I refill my bottle without a second thought. The air smells fresh and sharp, a mix of damp moss and mountain air, while the silence settles around us like a soft blanket. In front of us, the crystal-clear water stretches out like a mirror. I smile. This climb was worth it.

Our lunch — simple slices of local salmon and cheese — tastes up here as if it were made for this exact moment. The briny taste of the salmon blends with the creamy richness of the cheese.

From here we look down on the immense steel pipes that snake their way 740 metres up toward the heart of the mountain like a single taut artery. Together they form the Florli hydropower station. For decades, it provided energy to the region. In Norway, no less than 91% of all electricity is generated from hydropower. No wonder the Norwegians are pioneers in the sustainable use of electricity.

The descent along the back of Florli feels lighter. The landscape around us shifts. Forests and waterfalls surround us, the water crashing and roaring. We slip occasionally on the wet rocks — some of us more elegantly than others, though my penguin impression clearly still needs work. Ahead of us the valley unfolds, with the fjord in the distance and an endless green carpet of trees clinging to the steep walls.

After a while we get close to the starting point again, with legs that never want to see another staircase, and the kind of pride you carry when you have the best holiday story of the year. The sound of the water, calmer now and no longer thundering, walks us back to the old power plant where the steps begin. As we take the final few, I glance back one more time at the mountains and the fjord. I realise that Norway doesn't just bring me closer to nature — it makes me feel how connected I am to this world.