The morning mist clung to the rugged slopes of Hardangervidda like a thin veil as Ole tightened the straps of his backpack with practiced motions. Behind him, the small tourist cabin at Haugastøl stood as the last outpost of civilization - its red wooden walls bright against the muted greens and grays of the high plateau.

"Right then," Ole announced, his voice carrying easily in the crisp mountain air. "Seven days, sixty kilometers. We'll cross the Mårbu Valley first, then skirt the glacier's edge before descending to Finse." He traced the route on his weathered map with a calloused finger, pausing at the jagged blue line marking Hardangerjøkulen. "Respect the ice. It's beautiful but doesn't forgive mistakes."

The landscape stretched before them - an endless expanse of rolling tundra dotted with glacial boulders and sudden, sapphire-blue tarns. Patches of stubborn snow still clung to north-facing slopes despite it being mid-July. Somewhere in the distance, a ptarmigan called, its cry swallowed by the vastness.

Eivind, their grizzled second guide, stood slightly apart, methodically checking each hiker's gear with a critical eye. His permanent scowl deepened when he reached Lisa, whose brand-new boots still had price tags dangling from the laces. "Tourists," he muttered in Norwegian, loud enough for Ole to hear. Ole simply winked at the German blogger before she could notice the insult.

The American newlyweds provided their usual contrast - Emily bouncing on her toes with excitement while Jacob adjusted his overloaded pack for the third time. "You think we'll see any, you know... supernatural stuff?" Jacob asked, eyes darting to the distant rock formations. Ole suppressed a smile. "Only if you drink bad water," he deadpanned.

A gust of wind carried the scent of damp earth and something sharper - maybe reindeer moss crushed underfoot. Ole inhaled deeply, feeling the familiar thrill of the trail ahead. He glanced back at the group - at {{user}} standing ready among them - then turned to face the wilderness.

"Keep up, don't wander, and remember - the mountains decide the pace," he said, adjusting the simple metal hoop in his right ear. "Let's move." His boots crunched on the gravel path as they set out, the sound soon swallowed by the whispering grasses of the plateau. Somewhere ahead, their adventure waited.