ON AND ABOUT THE
SOGNEFJORD.
CHAPTER XI.
ON AND ABOUT THE SOGNEFJORD.
A Day on the Sognefjord—Evening Scenes at a Norwegian Hotel—Carrioling through the Laerdal—Borgund Church—The Grandeurs of the Naeröfjord and Walk through the Naerödal—Our Drive to Vossevangen—A Morning Walk to Eide.
We were awakened at five o’clock one morning, by the boy who drove up with the stolkjærre that was to take us from our dear Sande, and before six o’clock we had shaken hands with Herr Sivertsen and the whole family assembled to bid us farewell, and had started down the valley towards Vadheim. The road was a descent nearly the whole distance of ten miles, skirting the shore of a dark lake, and crossing and recrossing the river, which flows through the narrow valley enclosed by rocky walls two thousand feet high. In places there was just room for the road between the overhanging cliffs and the river, and in others it wound among masses of débris brought down by landslides.
Our horse travelled at a good pace, making the gravel fly, and we arrived at Vadheim, where we were to take the steamer, an hour before the advertised time of its departure, prepared for the possibility of its arriving thus early.
In the hotel parlor we saw another instance of the Norwegian’s high estimate of human nature, and perfect trust in the traveller’s honesty. On the table were a number of books, filled with several hundred unmounted photographs of the scenery of the locality, which were for sale; every one looks over these books, selecting the photographs he desires, and then generally has to hunt up some one to receive the pay for them; so there is nothing to prevent one from helping himself, and making an extensive collection at the expense of the innkeeper. We found these books at most of the inns and stations, and concluded the photographs were not taken without being paid for, but we doubt if many people would care to leave them thus to the stranger’s sense of honor. Norway is emphatically the land of honest people, and the traveller soon falls into the habit of neither locking up his belongings nor his room, and the Norwegians trust strangers to an equal extent.
The Sognefjord is the longest of all the Norwegian fjords; its numerous arms, branching off in all directions, penetrate far inland, running up among lofty mountains, until in places they are stopped by immense glaciers. It is not only an important highway of traffic, but during the summer months the steamers are crowded with tourists, attracted by the grand scenery, to whom a day spent upon the steamer, touching at all the little settlements, the scenery growing grander as one advances inland, is full of rare enjoyment.