The best hiking partner I've ever had weighs about twenty kilos, sheds constantly, and communicates entirely through eyebrows. She doesn't care about my pace, my plans, or my blisters. She just wants to be on the trail, preferably somewhere with a bog to cool her belly.
Bringing a dog into the mountains changes the trip. Not always for the better, if you're not prepared. It's not just about grabbing the leash and heading out. You're responsible for a creature that can't tell you when its paws are raw or its water is gone. That's on you.
Before you go
The first thing to sort out is the law. Many Norwegian national park zones require dogs on lead year-round. This isn't bureaucracy for its own sake. It protects grazing livestock and wildlife from a well-meaning dog that thinks sheep are just big, smelly playmates.
Check the rules for your specific route before you leave the house. A quick look at the park's website or a phone call to the local tourist office saves you a fine and, more importantly, prevents a stressful encounter with a farmer whose flock you've just scattered. In my experience, most conflicts on the trail start with a loose dog and end with raised voices.
Gear that earns its place
You don't need a lot of equipment for a dog, but what you carry should be deliberate. Here's what I've learned to pack after two decades of trail time with various four-legged companions.
Collapsible water bowl and extra water. Dogs dehydrate fast. Faster than you think. You might sip every twenty minutes and be fine; your dog can't pace itself the same way. When you stop for a break, pour water, don't just let them drink from a stream. Mountain water can carry parasites, and a sick dog in the backcountry is a miserable experience for both of you.
Paw balm or booties. Sharp rock and ice will cut a dog's pads faster than you'd expect. A dog that's used to grass and gravel at home will be limping by midday on a scree slope. Booties are a pain to put on the first time, but they're worth it on technical terrain. Paw balm is a lighter alternative for milder ground. Either way, check those paws at every rest stop.
Harness with a handle. This is non-negotiable for me. You need to be able to grab your dog and lift it over a scramble or pull it back from a ledge. A collar gives you no leverage and risks choking. A harness with a solid handle turns your dog into something you can assist, not just drag along.
Bear bell or leash in wildlife areas. The bell doesn't scare predators away, but it announces you're coming. Most wildlife will move off before you even see them, which is exactly what you want. A dog that charges a moose or a bear is a problem you can't solve with shouting. Keep the dog close where encounters are likely.
Poop bags. Pack it out, always. Even in the deep backcountry. A buried bag takes years to decompose and ruins the experience for the next hiker. It's a small weight for a big courtesy.
Building paw endurance
You wouldn't run a marathon without training. Your dog shouldn't either. Paw pads toughen up over time, but only if you give them a chance to adapt.
Start with short hikes on varied terrain. Let the dog get used to gravel, roots, and the occasional rocky section. Build up the distance gradually over a few weeks. I've seen too many people take a city dog straight to a mountain trail and end up carrying the poor thing out with bleeding paws.
It's not just the pads either. The muscles and tendons in the legs need conditioning too. A dog that's used to running in a park all day can still be sore after a steep descent. Watch your dog's gait. If it starts favouring a leg or slowing down noticeably, that's your cue to stop or turn back.
Heat is a silent problem
Dogs don't sweat like humans. They pant. That's their only real cooling mechanism, and it's not very efficient. The air could feel pleasant to you and your dog could still be overheating.
Watch for the signs. Excessive panting, drooling, a glazed look in the eyes, unsteady walking. If you see any of that, get the dog into shade, pour water over its belly and paws, and let it rest. Don't push on just because the forecast said mild.
I've hiked in cool, overcast weather where my dog still needed frequent stops. The ground radiates heat, and the exercise generates plenty of its own. If you're sweating, your dog is working even harder to cool down.
Trail etiquette with a dog
Not everyone loves dogs. Some people are genuinely afraid of them. Others have had bad experiences. You don't know which is which when you meet someone on a narrow trail.
Yield to other hikers. Step off the trail with your dog on a short lead and let them pass. Don't assume your dog is friendly and everyone should pet it. Keep it close and controlled until the interaction is over. A friendly dog can still knock over a nervous hiker or startle a child.
The same goes for other dogs. Not all dogs are socialised, and a sudden meeting on a blind corner can turn ugly fast. Keep yours close, read the other dog's body language, and don't force an introduction. A calm, controlled pass is better than a chaotic play session.
Ticks after the hike
Southern Norway in summer means ticks. It's just a fact. After every hike, check your dog thoroughly. Run your hands over the whole body, paying special attention to the ears, between the toes, under the collar, and around the groin.
Ticks carry diseases, and dogs are prime targets because they brush through tall grass and undergrowth. A quick check takes two minutes at the trailhead or back home. Find one, remove it properly with tweezers or a tick remover, and keep an eye on the spot for a few days. A red ring or swelling means a vet visit.
It's the least glamorous part of hiking with a dog, but it's the one that saves you the most trouble later.
The payoff
Hiking with a dog isn't easier. It's more gear, more planning, more vigilance. But when you sit on a summit with your dog sprawled beside you, tongue out, utterly content, it's hard to imagine doing it any other way. The dog doesn't care about the view. It cares that you're both out there, together.
Start small. Check the rules, pack the water, watch the paws. The mountains will do the rest.
About Erik Lindqvist
Erik Lindqvist is a Scandinavian trail guide and outdoor writer based in Norway. He has spent fifteen years hiking fjord paths, mountain ridges, and forest tracks across Norway, Sweden, and Iceland.