After a picturesque crossing of a lake rimmed with forested slopes and tall rock faces, the water narrowed, the trees were closing in and the sound of moving water reached us like a faint whisper. The small creek we were following had now been fed with water from the surrounding mountains and we knew that some distance ahead, it would tumble down to the lake Hellersvann. The question was how far ahead. The map revealed no answer, so a quick scout was certainly in order. It seemed like we still had a few hundred meters of paddling before we had to exit the river. Even though the creek had swollen, it was still only just about room for our packrafts. The current was swift and a few small foamy riffles lay ahead of us, as I let the river grab my boat and took of downstream. A few meters up front, I turned the boat and waited for the girls to follow. They wore huge grins of excitement as they went down the first riffles. Leapfrogging down the river, I suddenly heard a scream behind me. The girls packraft had stuck on a submerged rock just above the tiniest drop. Still, the water was moving at a fast pace. Being new to white water, Sif, our oldest daughter, was standing thigh-deep in the river with terror in her eyes, trying to hold on to the packraft to prevent her little sister going down the river. To grown-ups, there were no apparent danger at all, with the little drop ending in a huge pool and only gentle rapids further down. Even eight year old Siri didn’t think much of the situation, fired up by the previous joyful ride down the river. Still, Sif’s scream hit me hard and I was up with them in no time. The river running was supposed to be fun, not frightening. It didn’t take long before we had resolved the mishap, and even if Sif still was looking rather sceptic, her mood quickly brightened as we took of down the last pair of rapids. Then the distant sound of thundering water got us up on safer grounds.

After a steep climb up from the river, we were greeted by a spectacular view: The river ran down a huge, smooth rock face like a bridal veil in the glow of the evening sun. As the landscape widened ahead of us, the incident on the river was quickly forgotten.

Gautefall enchanted us in the brief week we were there, and we had plenty of time for reflection – and just being together. Even the last day was memorable, with fun paddling down the gentle small rapids and bathing from hot, smooth rocks.

This trip had nothing to do with braking records, raising the bar or seeking epic challenges. And while we deflated the packrafts on our last day, Siri hit the nail on the head when she summarized the trip: “I could live here. Mum could look after us if we got sick or wounded, and dad could be our teacher.”