Off the grid in Norway – and more connected than ever: How a trek across peaks and fjords made me feel alive | OneFootball

I’m standing at the edge of a fjord, gazing across glassy, gold-lit water under a sun that never set. It’s just past midnight, and I’m bleary-eyed and exhilarated. Norway is full of moments like this: vast and bright, offering a kind of beauty that makes you feel both tiny and impossibly alive.

I’m in Bruvik, a small village an hour outside Bergen on Norway’s west coast. Rugged mountains rise out of the glacial water, inviting me to take an icy plunge. Despite Bergen receiving 250 days of rain per year, it’s a balmy 26C and not a cloud in sight. Perfect for a rookie outdoors enthusiast whose main experience with sleeping under canvas is at a music festival, perhaps once a year.

I’ve been brought here by the outdoor brand Helly Hansen, where I’m testing the brand’s latest gear against the elements. Known for kitting out Olympians, national teams and mountain guides, the brand is now putting its professional-grade kit to the test on someone like me – the living embodiment of “all the gear and no idea”.

The Norway Mountain Guides meet us, naturally dressed head-to-toe in Helly Hansen. These modern-day Vikings look like they’ve been climbing mountains since they took their first steps. Eager to connect – maybe even impress – I mention my fondness for wild swimming. “Wild swimming?” one of them asks with a jolly chuckle. “You mean ... swimming?” Braving the Hampstead Heath pond doesn’t quite earn you stripes in a land where people think nothing of plunging into a glacial fjord before breakfast.

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Eliza’s breath was taken away, not just by the challenging climb, but by the spellbinding beauty of the jagged peaks across the landscape (M Creative Studio/Helly Hansen)

The trip coincides with Helly Hansen’s “Open Mountain Month”, an initiative designed to encourage people of all experience levels to explore the outdoors. The itinerary includes hiking, swimming, camping, and even a helicopter ride with Norway’s Recco search-and-rescue team. Slowly, the intimidation I feel begins to melt. The guides aren’t here to judge, but to share what they love.

We begin with a hike up Bruviknipa, a peak that sits just over 800 metres above sea level, with panoramic views of the fjords below. It’s a modest distance – around 10km there and back – but steep enough to warrant several pauses, as I hope no one can hear my wheezing above the wind.

At one point, we stop beside a stream trickling down the rocks. “It’s clean,” a guide says, crouching to drink. “Just check no one’s peeing at the top.” I really hope he’s joking. Still, the water is ice cold and impossibly fresh.

As we pick our way up, more of this stunning landscape reveals itself. The fjord stretches out below, hugged by jagged peaks, the sapphire water permeating the air so everything is dipped in an ethereal, bluish hue. Wind whips across the rocks as I take in the view – a vast, jagged sprawl like a crumpled map that refuses to be smoothed out. I’m short of breath, and not just from the climb. The view is the kind of quiet drama that stuns even the noisiest of minds into silence.

“Snack anybody?” Music to my ears, until I see one of our guides hunched over a girthy and rather dubious-looking sausage. “Reinsdyrpølse!” he beams. Reindeer. I check my liberal carnivorous sensibilities at the door and tuck in. It’s rich, smoky and perfect after the hike.

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Eliza began her journey with a hike up Bruviknipa, a peak that sits just over 800 metres above sea level (M Creative Studio/Helly Hansen)

At this altitude, the sweat from the climb quickly turns chilly. I’m glad to pull on the Helly Hansen Loke shell jacket – a lightweight, waterproof shell that feels too light to be doing very much, until you quickly realise you’ve stopped shivering. It’s windproof, breathable, and has a deceptively simple design for something so durable.

However, it’s the Recco reflector sewn into the hood that sets this garment apart. A tiny, passive transponder that makes you searchable to rescue teams. No batteries, no activation, just quiet peace of mind. At £120, it’s reassuring tech for anyone craving off-grid freedom without compromising on safety.

While this isn’t the cheapest on the market, it’s rare to find something that balances weight, durability, and safety this well. Unfussy but effective, it quietly makes sure someone could find you, if you ever really needed them to. Helly Hansen’s gear doesn’t shout. It just works.

This same Recco technology is used by professional rescuers to locate missing people in avalanches and other outdoor emergencies. Before our hike, we were taken on a search and rescue demonstration by helicopter to see how it works in action. Watching how wide an area the signal can cover made me realise that being searchable doesn’t ruin the feeling of escape. It simply adds a reassuring thread of connection back to the world, just in case.

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Leaving behind work emails and notifications for the stillness of the wilderness in Norway (M Creative Studio/Helly Hansen)

It’s a contradiction that lies at the heart of the outdoors: a hunger to feel off-grid, disconnected from the endless noise of emails, deadlines, and The Group Chat, but not so disconnected that we can’t be found if something goes wrong. This tiny piece of tech, tucked invisibly into the fabric of a jacket, threads that needle with quiet brilliance.

The descent from Bruviknipa proves even tougher than the climb. My legs have the consistency of slightly underset flan, but sturdy soles (and perhaps a bit of pride) prop me up. The kit holds up, and even more amazingly, I do too. More than that, there’s a clear feeling I’m exactly where I’m meant to be: outside, heart pounding in my ears, breathing fresh air, unbothered by phone signal, group chats, and the noise of everyday life.

We make it back to camp damp, a little delirious, and glowing with the kind of satisfaction only a tough day outdoors can bring. The next morning, I strip down and step into the glacial lake. The cold hits like a breath-stealing punch that jolts me awake. Astonished that I’d ever considered Hampstead Heath remotely “wild”, I force myself to stay in longer than feels comfortable.

High on a mountain in Norway, wind in my ears, reindeer sausage in hand, I felt more connected than I have in a long time – and in a way that truly matters.