Let’s talk about one of our favorite escapes: Dovrefjell. Rugged, raw, wildly beautiful—and home to one of the most photogenic, prehistoric-looking animals still roaming the north: the musk ox.
We travel to Dovrefjell several times a year, and every time it feels like the first. The terrain shifts. The light transforms. But the feeling of being somewhere truly ancient—that never changes.
The Hunt for the Woolly Tank
Our trips almost always start the same way: parked near Hjerkinn, hot coffee in hand, binoculars out, scanning the wide, open land. Or we’re driving slowly along the road toward Kongsvoll, eyes peeled, hoping that just over the next rise we’ll spot one of those shaggy silhouettes moving across the tundra.
It’s a ritual now. That first hour is always quiet—no music, no chatting. Just scanning, searching, hoping. And when we finally spot one? The car stops, the breath catches, and everything slows down.
The first musk ox sighting of any trip is a bit like spotting a celebrity in the wild—except they weigh 400 kilos, could knock over a car, and look like they’ve walked straight out of the Ice Age.
When we do find them, it’s with awe. And respect. And a really long lens.
Yes, they smell like an old wool sweater. But they wear it well.
Sometimes we’re lucky. We see them from a distance, moving through the mist. Other times, we hike for hours and find none—just tracks and that unmistakable musk scent hanging in the air. But it doesn’t matter. The search is part of the magic.
A Landscape That Makes You Feel Small
Dovrefjell is more than musk oxen. It’s a dramatic plateau of windswept beauty. Jagged peaks like Snøhetta, endless skies, and valleys that stretch further than your GPS signal.
It’s a place where you breathe deeper. Walk slower. Notice more. The lichen on rocks. The sudden silence. The way snow settles in pockets long after the sun is out. The crunch of your boots. The whisper of wind across ancient stone.
Every hike, every photography mission here is filled with those moments—the ones where you pause and just look. Not for the perfect shot. But because you’re caught in something much bigger than yourself.
And Dovrefjell doesn’t shout for attention. It whispers. And if you’re patient, it reveals everything.
Here, the silence is part of the view.
Winter, Summer, Storm, Repeat
We’ve been to Dovrefjell in every season. And trust us—it never shows up the same way twice.
In winter, it’s brutal and beautiful. The musk oxen blend into the snowdrifts. Your breath freezes on your scarf. And the light? It’s soft, fleeting, and magical. The shadows are long, the skies dramatic, and everything feels stripped to its bones.
Come spring, the thaw begins. Streams cut through the snow. Life returns, slowly. You might still get snow in your boots, but the valleys start to breathe again. The moss turns electric green. Birds return. And sometimes, so do the tourists.
Summer is vast and green. The air is fresh and sharp. There’s light almost all night. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, a musk ox will pose perfectly right as the sun dips behind Snøhetta. It’s the season of long walks, cold rivers, and sunburns in the mountains.
And then there’s autumn—our personal favorite. The mountains turn gold. The air smells of moss and rock. Mushrooms pop up along the trails. And the musk oxen look even more majestic against the fire-colored backdrop. It’s quiet. It’s moody. It’s pure poetry.
Fall fashion. Musk ox edition.
Where We Stay (or Don’t)
Depending on the mood (and the weather), we either bunk down at the cozy Dovregubbens Hall, which feels like staying in a mountain fairytale, or we go full-on wild and pitch the tent somewhere quiet, under a wide open sky.
There’s something deeply satisfying about waking up with frost on the tent flap, zipping it open, and seeing nothing but mountains and sky. Add the sound of distant bump from musk oxen? Perfection.
Dovregubbens Hall offers warm beds, hot showers, and surprisingly good breakfeast. The staff know the mountain like the back of their hand, and if you ask nicely, they might even point you in the direction of the last known oxen sightings.
But honestly? Sometimes nothing beats waking up in a sleeping bag, hearing a raven overhead, and knowing that today is all yours.
Super moon and musk oxen
For the Love of It
We don’t run workshops in Dovrefjell (yet!), but we keep coming back for the love of it. For the wildness. The silence. The stillness that somehow fills your soul instead of draining it.
Photographing here isn’t about ticking off a list. It’s about patience. About presence. About the kind of clarity that only cold air and distant peaks can give you.
It’s about waiting an hour in the wind for a musk ox to turn its head just so. It’s about learning how to read light on lichen. It’s about the stories you bring home that don’t need words.
If you ever get the chance to visit: go. Be respectful. Keep your distance. Bring snacks. Bring layers. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll meet the giants of the north.
Family gathering at Dovrefjell
