The Lapps of this encampment are said to possess nearly five thousand reindeer, about a hundred of which were driven down from among the mountains into an enclosure, for our inspection. The stags had fine branching antlers, but most of the reindeer had short, jointed horns covered with a soft fur; they were shedding their long white hairs, beneath which was a coat of dark hair; they are extremely quick motioned, and seemed very wild, the whole flock running from one side of the enclosure to the other, their knee joints making a peculiar cracking noise. One of them was caught by a lasso skilfully thrown over the horns, and held while milked. The milk is very rich, is drank diluted with water, and is said to resemble goats’ milk in taste; we did not partake of it, for neither were the milkmaid nor cup sufficiently clean to tempt us.
An enterprising photographer endeavored to induce us to pose before his camera, with the Lapp huts and reindeer in the background; he showed us photographs he had previously taken of tourists, holding Lapp babies laced in their cradles, or sitting between Lapp women; but he could not persuade us to immortalize ourselves in that manner—even the bachelor had no desire to be taken with his Smuke Pige by his side.
Laden with purchases from the Lapps, as souvenirs of our visit, we started on our walk back to the fjord, and were rowed to the steamer in a pouring rain, and over a heavy sea, reaching at last our floating home with a feeling of gladness. The remainder of the day it rained incessantly, but we rejoiced at this opportunity to sleep after such a series of interesting and novel experiences, that had lately occupied most of our time night and day. No midnight sun put in an appearance that night, but the rain came down steadily; still it was light enough to read and write, and none of the lamps were lighted.
We stopped at many small stations, taking on freight and passengers. We had a great quantity of lumber aboard, which we left at one of the stations; the long pieces of timber were thrown into the water, causing much noise and splashing, and were collected by men in row boats as they came to the surface, and made into a raft to be floated to the shore.
Two large boats containing fat steers rowed out to meet us; the steam hoisting apparatus swung its long arm out over the steamer’s side, a wide belt was adjusted under a steer’s belly, and he was raised high in the air. As he found himself moving upward, his front and hind legs sticking out straight, he vainly tried to struggle, for he was perfectly helpless; the comical figure he cut as he soared heavenward, and was swung over into the middle of the steamer, and lowered to the second deck, caused the passengers to roar with laughter.
One lady, as she watched the loading of the steers, exclaimed, “Oh, I am so glad they have taken those cows aboard, for now we can have plenty of fresh milk for supper!”
We spent an entire day cruising along the Lofoden Islands, and enjoyed again their magnificent scenery under a smiling sky. At one of the ports there we met a Hamburg steamer with a few passengers, bound for Vadsö, beyond the North Cape. Great clumsy sailing craft, with high pointed prow and stern, with towering square sails, the same as those in which the Vikings of old used to cruise, lazily pass us on their way north, and for a long time their tall sails are visible on the horizon.
In places far up the rocky cliff, or part way up the mountain side, where there is a level place large enough for a few acres of grass, you will see a little farm house. The farmer has a few sheep, goats, and cows which furnish part of the food and materials for the homespun clothing of his family, and with the ever-abundant fish they have enough to supply their moderate wants. Even as far north as Tromsö we passed these solitary farm houses, and for hours would neither see another house nor sign of life. It is impossible to conceive how one can live so far removed from mankind, spending the long winters, with over two months of darkness, away from every living being except the limited family circle, exposed to the terrible storms and severe cold of the Arctic region.
Our farewell view of the midnight sun was the grandest of all. We had just passed from the Arctic Circle, and shortly before midnight the sun, a great blood-red ball, hung upon the horizon while the heavens blazed in a glory of crimson and gold. So slow was the sun’s motion that at first it seemed to rest upon the horizon, then it slowly sank until half its disk was obscured. Gradually the coloring of the burning heavens paled, until the glowing red faded into a golden tint, heralding the approach of another day, and sunset and sunrise were blended in one.