Dovrefjell–Sunndalsfjella National Park

Listen for a moment. Up here the wind carries very little: a dry rustle through dwarf birch, the click of small stones underfoot, perhaps the call of a bird you cannot see. The ground is a patchwork of grey lichen, copper-coloured moss and pale rock. The air feels thin and clean, with a faint smell of wet earth and crushed heather. This is Dovrefjell–Sunndalsfjella National Park, a high, open plateau that spreads across the mountains of central Norway.

The park was created in 2002. It joined several older protected areas into one large landscape that crosses three Norwegian counties. From Oppdal, you reach it through Drivdalen, the long valley that the main road and the railway follow south toward Dovre. The valley floor is green and farmed. Climb a little higher, and the trees thin out quickly. Soon you stand above the tree line, in a country of wide horizons and very few people.

For centuries, this plateau was an obstacle that everyone had to cross. It sits between eastern Norway and Trondheim, and travellers had no easy way around it. Medieval pilgrims walked over these mountains on their way to the shrine of Saint Olav in Trondheim. Kings and messengers used the same route. Along the way, simple mountain lodges were built to shelter people from storms. Kongsvold, in the valley near the park's edge, is one of these old lodges, and it still stands today.

The mountains also hold a special place in Norway's national story. In 1814, the men who wrote the Norwegian constitution swore an oath that is still quoted today: united and loyal until Dovre falls. They chose these mountains because nothing seemed more permanent. When you look out at the solid grey ridges around you, the choice makes sense. The phrase still appears in speeches and songs, more than two centuries later.

Here is the first surprise. The most famous animal in this park did not originally live here in modern times. Musk oxen, the shaggy, horned survivors of the Ice Age, were brought from Greenland in the twentieth century. The first attempt took place in 1932. The herd that roams these hills today comes from animals released in the years after the Second World War. They have adapted well to the cold, dry plateau, and they now wander freely across the open ground.

A musk ox looks slow and gentle — almost like a large, woolly rock. Do not be fooled. These animals can run fast, and a bull will charge if it feels threatened. Park guidance asks visitors to keep a distance of at least two hundred metres. If an animal stops grazing and stares at you, you are already too close. Step back calmly and give it space. Binoculars are the best way to enjoy them.

The second great animal of Dovrefjell is older and quieter. Wild reindeer have grazed these mountains since the ice retreated thousands of years ago. The herds around the Snøhetta massif are considered especially valuable. They carry the genetic line of the original wild mountain reindeer, a line that has largely disappeared elsewhere in Europe. They are shy and easily disturbed. If you see a herd moving along a distant slope, you are seeing something very rare.

Now lift your eyes toward the highest summit. Snøhetta rises well above two thousand metres and often keeps patches of snow even in summer. Its name means something like the snow cap. On clear days, its broad, rounded shape dominates the western horizon. For a long time, people believed it was the highest mountain in Norway. Later surveys showed that other peaks are taller, but Snøhetta remains the heart of this landscape.

Here is the second surprise. Near Hjerkinn, on the eastern side of the park, the land was once used as a military firing range. For decades, soldiers trained among these hills. When the range closed, Norway began a long project to remove roads, buildings and debris and return the land to nature. Today, much of that ground is healing. A wooden viewing pavilion near Hjerkinn, designed by the Norwegian architecture firm Snøhetta, now looks out toward the mountain that gave the firm its name.

Kneel down and look closely at the ground. Dovrefjell has long attracted botanists, because its alpine flowers are unusually varied. Some plants here grow in very few other places in the world. Norwegian wormwood, a small, silvery plant, is one of them. In early summer, tiny flowers in white, yellow and purple appear between the stones. They grow slowly in the short season, so step carefully and stay on the paths where you can.

This plateau also carries a place in Norwegian legend and literature. In folk tales, trolls lived deep inside these mountains. Henrik Ibsen, the Norwegian playwright, placed the hall of the Mountain King, the troll ruler, at Dovre in his play Peer Gynt. Edvard Grieg later wrote music for that scene, and many people recognise the melody without knowing its source. On a grey, misty day, with boulders scattered across the slopes, it is easy to see why storytellers imagined giants here.

The weather on Dovrefjell changes fast. A bright morning can turn into cold rain or fog within an hour, even in midsummer. Visibility can drop until the trail markers are hard to see. Experienced hikers carry warm layers, a windproof jacket, water and a map, even on short walks. Signposted trails start from the valley near Kongsvoll and from Hjerkinn. Guided musk ox safaris also run in summer, and they are a safe way to see the animals.

So take one more look around you. Notice how far you can see, and how little there is to interrupt the view: no fences, no buildings, only rock, moss, sky and the long line of the ridges. Listen again for the wind in the low birch. As you walk back down toward the valley, watch the trees slowly return around you. The plateau stays behind you — quiet, open and patient, just as it was when the pilgrims crossed it.