The Jan Baalsrud Expedition - March / April 2006

The Jan Baalsrud Expedition
March / April 2006
by Mike Wright (S. 1953-58)

By a series of coincidences I found myself involved with an expedition to follow the escape route of Jan Baalsrud, a soldier with the Linge Company, in one of the most extraordinary feats of endurance and survival against the odds to come out of the last war.

Living in Norway, I was well placed to assist the expedition in organisation and publicity. By great good fortune General Grandhagen, the Northern Area commander of the Norwegian Army, embraced the concept with enthusiasm and assisted us greatly.

Thus on the 18th of March I joined five crew members of MS Straumnes, a ninety eight year old fishing vessel of some fifty seven feet, captained by Major Vidar Seather of the Norwegian Engineers. She had seen service in the Second World War carrying refugees from Norway. We sailed from the area of Harstadt in northern Norway, arriving at Scalloway in the Shetland Islands on 24th March. Here we met the rest of the expedition, led by Alun Davies (retired Major of Royal Regiment of Wales) who originated the idea. Our aim was to follow the of Jan Baalsrud's journey of sixty-three years ago in what was called the 'Shetland Bus'.

There were now thirteen of us crammed into what had once been a fish hold. The walls ran with water and the deck leaked yet we were probably in greater luxury than those who had travelled before us, as they would have been encumbered with 8 tons of stores and explosives. With this happy thought we set forth into a South East gale gusting force 9, and headed south to Sumburgh Head where we met the full force of the wind. Here it was deemed unwise to continue, and we returned to Scalloway and ditched the grateful support officer. Now our number was twelve, an altogether more auspicious state of affairs, and we made a second attempt the following day. The winds had abated to force 6, and we sailed round the northern end of the islands, avoiding the overfalls of Sumburgh Head. After twenty four hours it was clear that our speed over the ground was not sufficient to get us to Norway before the fuel ran out, so it was back to Scalloway, The third attempt got us to the Norwegian coast between Sognefjord and Aalesund. We now had three days of calm sailing along the magnificent Norwegian coastline. The snowline came down to the waters edge, the sun shone and the mountains sparkled in the background.

North of Narvik we transferred to a forty-knot raiding craft in an attempt to make up for lost time, arriving in Tromso in time for a civic lunch on 29th March. Here we met two ladies who as children were the first people to help Jan at the start of his epic journey, Olaug and Dagmar Idrupsen. We then laid wreaths at the shooting range where Jan's surviving companions were shot. We also learned that they had been shot in the stomach, so that they did not die too quickly before they were buried.

We stayed at Olavsvaern, a naval barracks, and the next day we were conveyed by the Norwegian Navy to Toftefjord some sixty kilometres north of Tromso. It was here that on 30th March 1943 that the MS Brattholm, transport of the 'Shetland Bus', was surprised by the Germans. Her crew, one of whom was killed in the engagement, blew her up, two were wounded, and eight were captured. Jan Baalsrud, wounded in the foot and missing a boot, swam ashore and evaded capture by shooting one of his pursuers dead and wounding another. He climbed a snow filled gully and crossed a ridge. Realising that his hunters would search all buildings, he noticed a small island and swam to it; here there was a shallow hollow in which he hid until the hue and cry had subsided. He then swam to a small rock, which was soon submerged by the tide. A fourth swim took him to Varoya where he made contact with the two young girls, Olaug and her cousin Dina Pedersen, who rowed him to their home.

Half the expedition tested the water but found it so cold that only my Norwegian friend Knut Oscar and I swam the full distance of about 80 meters taking aproximately15 minutes. Our admiration of Baalsrud started to grow. We were privileged to have Tore Haug, nephew of Jan and author of a definitive book on the matter, as our guide.

The following day we started from Mikkelvik, where Dina Pedersen's brother had rowed Jan, and followed the tide line as he had done to hide his tracks. The going over icy boulders was very hard work and fairly hazardous. We did not need reminding that he had done this with a wounded foot and an odd boot. We were sufficiently arrogant to think that we could accomplish in one day a distance that had taken him two. The seventeen hours of hard slog that followed filled us with even greater admiration for the man.

That night we reached Daafjord and stayed there as he had done. The next morning we started the long trek over the mountains to Kopparelv on the Langsund. Here we met two of the Heika family who had encountered Jan as he emerged from the forest with a pistol in his hand. They had warned him that there were many Germans about, and that he should be careful to avoid being seen by one of the many observation posts and patrols. They then recommended that he make contact with a family at Bjornskaret five kilometres further along the fjord. It should be stressed that there was no formal resistance organisation assisting Jan; he was being passed to people who it was thought were sympathetic; thus there were huge risks. For his part Jan always refused to tell his contacts where he had come from, protecting his trail, but requiring even greater trust by his helpers.

The Sorensens at Bjornskaret provided him with skis and boots; and that night the father, aged seventy-six, and son rowed Jan through a snowstorm ten kilometres to Snarby. Halfway they had to lie up behind an island in order to avoid a patrol boat. As with all journeys where Jan was accompanied, his companions had to return home the same night so that their absence would not be noted. Jan's next contacts were the Lockertsens who took him by motorboat a point eleven kilometres short of Lyngseidet. Trying to move quickly Jan skied along the road and shortly after first light skied through a group of German soldiers going for breakfast. Shaken by his narrow escape he turned north off the road into the mountains.

The expedition completed the journey from Daafjord to Lyngseidet in a single day, much assisted by the Norwegian Navy fast patrol boat. Nevertheless it was another long and tiring day, and it was decided that we were trying to accomplish too much too fast, and a recovery day was ordered. The UK elements were all alpinists and found the intricasies of Norwegian skis too difficult to master, so were reunited with the alpine skis that they had brought from Britain. Refreshed we then started on the most epic part of Baalsrud's journey. Knut Oscar and I used Norwegian touring skis throughout.

Jan carried no maps or sketches, committing everything to memory. Having climbed high he was attempting to descend to a lower route in worsening weather when he was avalanched. He lost skis, gloves, hat and the rucksack with his food. What happened on the next three days is a little unclear, what is known is that on 8th April he fell through the kitchen door of the farm of the Gronvolls at Furuflaten. The ladies of the household were terrified at the sight of this apparition with its feet encased in ice. Jan was suffering from hypothermia, snow blindness and frostbite and was extremely hungry. The Gronvolls cleaned him up and managed to move him to their barn where he remained for four days, surviving a German search of the farm.

Our expedition completed the same route as far as it could be ascertained. High on the mountain we made a rendezvous with Major General Grandhagen who flew in by helicopter accompanied by a sizeable press corps. After the general had spoken I replied in Norwegian, expressing our sincere thanks, and he was presented with a bottle of malt whisky which had been carefully carried from the Shetlands; a small token of appreciation for all his help. In inclement weather and poor visibility we descended Lyngsdalen to Furuflaten. Four of us spent the night in the Gronvoll barn, and can testify to the coldness and draughtiness of the place. The following morning we were conducted round the Baalsrud museum and met Agnete Gronvoll, widow of Marius Gronvoll, who had played a major role in the saga.

When it was deemed that Jan was capable of being moved he was smuggled on a stretcher out of the village onto a sailing boat, and taken eight kilometres across the fjord to an isolated hut, which became known as Hotel Savoy. Here he remained for twelve days much of it stormbound and with minimal food. Gangrene began to infect his feet and he commenced to cut off his toes with a penknife. His helpers were having problems communicating with the men of Mandalen in the next valley who were organising his onward journey. Four men pulled Jan and his stretcher up a steep gully. The route was difficult and exhausting, and they were forced to leave Jan in the snow beneath a large boulder, which acquired the name of 'The Gentleman Stone'.

The ubiquitous Major Vidar Saether in a RIB transported the expedition across the fjord. Hotel Savoy had burned down some years ago, but was replaced by a replica. We then started to climb the gully, encountering snow, ice and water, and struggling through the birch scrub. We marvelled at the achievement of the four Furuflaten men who had had to work in darkness hauling a sledge. The Gentleman stone is hard to recognise but Knut Oscar, my Norwegian companion and I are convinced that we found it. It was small wonder that the locals had such a problem identifying it in 1943.

The problem of communicating and misunderstandings meant that the men from Mandalen did not locate Jan, now buried under the snow, until the night 29/30 April, five days after he had been placed there. Because of a storm it was another five days before they could return and start the journey to Sweden. However in poor weather conditions they were not able to progress, and were forced to leave Jan under a cliff for a further five days. At last Jan's extraordinary determination to survive seemed to be fading, and it was decided to move him down to a cave at the top of the Mandalen valley where he could be cared for on a daily basis. Here he remained in their care for some seventeen days until the Sami, or Lapplanders, could be organised to take him to Sweden.

Leaving the Gentleman Stone we traversed over the ridge to the rim of the Mandalen valley. Daylight was receding fast and the route down through the maze of cliffs was difficult to locate. It was deemed too dangerous to attempt it in the dark. We therefore elected to dig snow holes and wait for daylight. Our non-appearance in Mandalen that night initiated a search for us. Thus it was that we awoke to the sound of a helicopter, which insisted on taking us down to the village, despite the protests of the purists. Our next formal engagement was to attend lunch at an old peoples' home where we met Peder and Eliver Isaksen and Nils Nilsen. Peder had been one of the two men who found Jan at the Gentleman Stone. Nils Nilsen had skied eighty-five miles in thirty hours to find the Sami; in that time the only sustenance that he had was some coffee and food that the Sami gave him. After lunch we visited Jan's grave in Mandalen where his ashes were laid in 1987.

Jan had been transported by the Sami using their reindeer as cover, and had eventually reached Sweden on 1 June under a hail of bullets from a German patrol. He was eventually returned to Britain and served the rest of the war as an instructor with the Linge Company.

That evening we made our way up the Mandalen valley with the assistance of the skidoos of the mayor of Mandalen, Bjorn Mo. Knut Oscar and I visited the cave, and we spent the night in a Sami tent on the plateau. The Sami had brought two reindeer of questionable usefulness; one of them would not pull the sledge, in fact it had to be pushed and pulled in order to extract any movement whatsoever. Eventually it was decided that the best solution was to carry it on the sledge, and thus we progressed to the Finnish border with a reindeer playing the part of Baalsrud. We spent one further night in an isolated cabin, dining on Sami delicacies such as reindeer tongue and intestines. Our final act was to cross lake Kilpisjarvi into Sweden as Jan had done, without being shot at!

We were left with two overriding impressions: one being the mental and physical strength of Jan Baalsrud, who in his one hundred and twenty five mile land journey had defied all the accepted conditions for survival, and the other being the extraordinary courage of the Norwegian people who had helped him. He came to them unannounced and often at dead of night, refusing to say who had sent him. Yet they accepted him, knowing that if he was not what he claimed to be, they faced the destruction of their property, torture and death.

My sincere thanks to my good friend John Andre (retired Major of the Devon and Dorset Regiment) for having written this synopsis of our expedition. He was also our supply “officer “ throughout the trip.

For myself, I passed out of the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst in 1960 (Royal Anglian Regiment) and retired from the Army in 1976 my last posting being in Norway. Since then I have married, have a family and lived happily in Norway working as an industrial electrician retiring this year. I spent many happy years at the College (S. 1953-58) and was Captain of Rugger in 1957.