The next morning, after being fortified with a hearty breakfast of delicious trout, eggs, and Scotch marmalade, we shouldered our knapsacks, and began the process of hand-shaking with the crowd assembled to see us off, which included not only the Norwegians connected with the inn, but a dozen English and Scotch people whose acquaintance we had formed the previous evening; at length, after many hearty farewells and good wishes, we started on a nineteen mile walk to Eide, on the Hardangerfjord.
In pleasant weather, walking, over a fine road in the bracing air, with ever-changing and delightful views of interesting scenery, is the perfection of enjoyment. The road leads at first beside a small river, through a pleasing and well-cultivated country, then ascends through fragrant woods, till it suddenly terminates as at Stalheim, on the brow of a high cliff, the view from which into the profound valley is most striking. The road descends in sharp zigzags down the face of the cliff, and winds among the masses of detached rock; over the cliff falls the Skjervefos, its foam and spray bathing the black slate rock, and forming a mountain torrent which soon becomes a river as it flows onward to the lake.
At a little village overlooking the lake we entered an inn, and after repeated knocking, calling, and exploring the whole house, we found the landlady at a neighboring cottage, who soon served us with some bread, cheese, and beer, which we particularly relished after our morning walk. We continued our way along the side of the lake, and through a rocky defile, ever amid picturesque scenery, and came to a small house, where a lady who had just been thrown from her carriole was sitting by the roadside, the horse having suddenly turned up a steep path at the side, doubtless leading to the farm to which he belonged. The carriole was broken, that being the only damage, and the Skydsgut had gone back for another. The lady informed us that she had been driving through the country for several weeks, and this was the first accident she had met with; it was the only one we heard of while in Norway.
When one considers the constant change of drivers, many of them very inexperienced, to which the horses are subjected, the comparative freedom from accidents shows they are gentle and reliable animals.
Eide is situated at the head of a narrow arm of the Hardangerfjord, completely shut in by mountains, which are wooded near their base. It consists of but a handful of houses and three hotels. We were particularly pleased with Moeland’s Hotel, with a large garden in which roses and other flowers were in bloom, with inviting seats in shady nooks, with a river flowing at one side, while at one end the garden sloped to the fjord’s edge. It was a pleasure to lie upon the grass that perfect summer afternoon resting after our long walk, listening to the murmuring water, and watching the fleecy clouds drifting over the dark mountains.
THE HARDANGER FJORD.