3 months. 1,200 kilometers. Backpack. Tent. Scandinavia.
4 paws. 2 legs. One unbeatable team.

Honestly? Every time I write that down, I think:
Who on earth does something like that?! How crazy is that?!

And then I realize:
In just a few weeks, it’s really going to start.

Then we will start walking.

“We” – that’s Skipper, my slightly crazy little Münsterländer with more energy than an entire pack of huskies, and me: an outdoor-obsessed host and TV journalist from Kiel, storytelling in my heart, wind in my face, salt on my skin.

Eleven years of experience in Scandinavia as a TV reporter. Countless shoots between fjords, fjells, and skerries.
And now?

Now I’m not just reporting anymore.
Now I’m walking.

Between May and August 2026 we’ll hike the northernmost pilgrimage route in the world — 1,200 kilometers from Turku to Trondheim.

From Finland through Sweden to Norway.
Always heading north. Always toward adventure.

The idea? Old. The courage? New.

Nine years ago I had that one moment.

A filming day in Norway’s Gudbrandsdal valley. A pilgrimage center.
For the first time I heard about the St. Olav Way — something like the Camino de Santiago, just in the north. The most popular route runs 760 km from Oslo to Trondheim.

My first thought back then:
“I’ll walk that someday. With a dog.”

Problem:
No dog.
No courage.

Self-employed for one year.
Single mother.
Son: 11.
Just bought a house.

So I did what we sometimes do with big dreams:

Open the drawer.
Put the dream inside.
Close the drawer.

I kept working. Raised my son.
In 2019 at least got the dog. Progress!

But the idea?
It stayed. Persistent.

Eight years later: click.

May 2025. Another filming day. This time in the Finnish Archipelago.
Someone tells me about the Waterway — another route of Saint Olav. Not through the mountains, but along the water. From Finland to Norway.

And I immediately think:

This is it.
This is me.
And Skipper can do it, too.

Water is our element. We basically live on the beach, jump into the Baltic Sea all year-round, and work to protect oceans and rivers.

So why not go on pilgrimage — just with the sound of waves instead of mountain panoramas?

So on a Sunday (!) I called my editor-in-chief:

“I need a production break. I’m setting off.”

After that?
Seven months of sorting things out, planning, calculating, doubting, dreaming.

And slowly realizing what 1,200 kilometers really means.

The route of our lives

We start in Turku, cross the Finnish archipelago, take the ferry to Åland, follow Sweden’s Baltic coast, hike along rivers and ancient pilgrimage paths — always following the footsteps of Saint Olav — until we finally reach the Norwegian mountains and Trondheim.

Backpack.
Tent.
No comfort zone.

Hiking with a dog means: more planning, more organization, more weight, more responsibility.

But it also means: never being alone.

Always having someone at your side who celebrates every single kilometer as if it were the best one of his life.

We’re going all in.

And we want to find out how well — or how chaotically — long-distance hiking in Scandinavia with a dog really works.

If you’re up for wind in your face, wet feet, mosquito attacks, magical sunsets, and a whole lot of real time on the road:

Come along on our test adventure.

We set off in May 2026.
And honestly — I can hardly believe it myself.