The Mountains Where I Met Myself Again

I went to Norway after the end of a two and a half year relationship, unsure of who I was outside of it. Somewhere between fjords, mountain hikes, skydiving, and Kabbalat Shabbat on Preikestolen, I began learning to trust myself and Hashem again.

I Needed to Find Out Who Daniel Was

My relationship had begun during the COVID lockdowns. Over two and a half years, that person had become much of my community, my routine, and my understanding of what life looked like.

When the relationship ended, I did not only lose a girlfriend. I realized that I no longer really knew who I was without her.

So, naturally, I decided to go to Norway and throw myself out of an airplane.

I booked a solo trip for June 2023. The plan was four days in Copenhagen, a day trip to Malmö, and eight days travelling through Norway.

Beyond that, there was not much of a plan.

I had a hostel booked, a rough idea of where I wanted to go, and the belief that I would figure everything else out along the way.

Copenhagen, Distortion, and Shabbat

I arrived in Copenhagen at exactly the right moment. Distortion, one of the city’s biggest street festivals, was taking place while I was there.

I met people at the hostel and suddenly found myself dancing at a pirate themed party by the docks. It was loud, chaotic, joyful, and exactly the kind of energy I needed.

At the same time, I wanted to explore the Jewish side of the city.

I visited the Danish Jewish Museum and experienced one of the most intense Holocaust exhibits I have ever seen. Through virtual reality, I followed the story of Danish Jews trying to escape to Sweden during the Second World War. It was immersive, emotional, and difficult to shake.

Afterward, I decided that I wanted to attend synagogue for Shabbat.

That Friday afternoon, I was back at Distortion when I suddenly realized that I had to leave if I wanted to make it to prayers. I ran across the city, arrived at this beautiful synagogue, prayed, and then ran back to the festival afterward.

The next morning, I returned for services. The rabbi delivered a sermon in Danish, Hebrew, and English without simply repeating the same message three times.

It was incredible.

That weekend captured a tension I was beginning to understand within myself. I wanted adventure, fun, Judaism, spirituality, and meaning. I did not want to choose one version of life at the expense of the others.

I was beginning to wonder whether all of them could belong together.

From Disgusting Food to Norwegian Fjords

Before leaving Denmark, I took a day trip to Malmö and visited the Disgusting Food Museum.

Ten out of ten, I would recommend it.

I tried several foods I would never willingly order again, including more insects than I care to remember. Somehow, I did not throw up. A win is a win.

Then I continued to Norway.

Most of my time was centred around Bergen and Voss. I went kayaking, whitewater rafting, skydiving, ziplining, and climbing on a via ferrata. I drove through landscapes that seemed almost unreal, with mountains, waterfalls, tunnels, and fjords around every corner.

Driving was also an adventure in itself. Many roads looked wide enough for one car, even though traffic travelled in both directions.

As far as I could tell, Norway had two speed limits:

Fifty and not fifty.

I also completed the eleven hour hike to Trolltunga. It was long, exhausting, and completely worth it. Standing on that rock above the landscape felt like reaching the edge of the world.

But Trolltunga was not the mountain that changed me.

That happened on Preikestolen.

Kabbalat Shabbat on Preikestolen

I had decided that I wanted to spend Shabbat somewhere surrounded by nature.

I booked a small wooden camping shelter nearby, packed my sleeping bag and tallit, and started hiking.

It took me around three hours to reach the top.

When I arrived, I could hardly believe the view. The fjord stretched below me, the mountains surrounded me, and everything felt enormous and completely still.

I took out my tallit and began Kabbalat Shabbat.

There was no synagogue, no congregation, and no familiar Friday night table.

There was just me, the mountain, my neshama, and Hashem.

For the first time in a long time, I felt completely at peace with who I was.

It felt as though my soul was standing beside me, connected to Hashem and to a version of myself that existed beyond the breakup, beyond my uncertainty, and beyond the life I had previously imagined.

For a moment, everything made sense.

I felt that Hashem had brought me there to remind me that I could access this higher part of myself whenever I needed direction. I did not have every answer, but I knew that I was not alone in finding them.

Nothing dramatic happened on the hike back down.

I simply walked with a smile on my face.

Learning to Trust Myself Again

The trip also brought small and unexpected connections.

I met a woman named Jorun at my hostel in Copenhagen, and we later met again in Oslo. We went to a beautiful jazz bar, sang karaoke, talked, laughed, and shared a small goodbye kiss at the end of the night.

It was not the beginning of another relationship, and it did not need to be.

It was a reminder that connection could still be spontaneous, light, and joyful.

More than anything, Norway taught me that Daniel could do it.

He could travel alone. He could walk into a hostel without knowing anyone. He could climb mountains, jump out of an airplane, meet new people, and trust himself to figure things out.

I still did not fully know who Daniel was.

But I knew he was someone worth discovering.

What I Carried Home

That trip became the beginning of the outdoor and adventurous life I want to keep building.

It showed me that adventure is not only about collecting countries, completing difficult hikes, or taking an amazing photograph.

Adventure can also be a way of returning to yourself.

Norway gave me space to grieve the life I had lost, reconnect with Hashem, and begin imagining a life that felt like my own again.

Sometimes, you climb a mountain because you want the view.

And sometimes, you climb it because somewhere near the top, you hope to meet yourself again.