A gust of northern wind hit us once again. I had never felt so cold on a summer’s day in August, but here in the western shore of the Lofoten islands everything was possible. Gusts came from North Pole, and they didn't care about us.
I was wearing everything I could. A down jacket, long johns, winter climbing gloves and a beanie. But my friend, Misha, didn't have that much. He was keen to keep up the pace.
It was wild. Waves were raging below our feet, and eagles were flying above our heads. Cell phone service was a dream. We were attempting the first ascent of the west face of Storskiva (848m), from the ground up, without having seen the face in advance. Well, that’s not totally true. We had one old picture taken from far out at sea, and a blurry satellite image.
We had climbed six pitches and the nature of the line was finally revealing itself. The cracks were full of grass, and I was frantically digging with my nut tool to find a place for a cam. My mouth was full of dirt and my mind was tired, but the main question I had was, “should I chalk up when pinching a grass tufa?”