I have rambled on a long time about Björnson. Interesting as fjord and fjeld and dal are in themselves, they always seem to me more interesting when enhanced by memories of some striking character with whom they are associated. Therefore, I hope you will forgive my frequent rambles.
At the end of the long Molde Fjord is the little village of Næs, the starting point for the Romsdal-Gudbrandsdal route. No one who is not a stick or a lump of rock can take this trip without feeling his emotions stirred to their very foundations. There are few places in the world where nature has so unsparingly lavished her art as here. As if the diversity of the scenes were not enough in itself to hold our attention, nature provides an infinite variety of lighting effects. Fleecy clouds play about the mountain tops and then give way to full sunlight. A fog rolls up and curls around the Romsdalshorn, soon to dissolve into nothingness. A heavy curtain of clouds appears most unexpectedly, and the wildest thunder pounds and rolls and crackles through the valley to the accompaniment of pattering hail. We have hardly found shelter when all is over. The sun seems to shine twice as brightly as before, and a few discontented mutterings in the distance show whither the storm is retreating. All this in itself would be inspiring, yet the scenery needs no assistance in producing a feeling of reverence and awe.
On one side of the road towers the mountain pyramid called Romsdalshorn, beside which the poor little attempts of Cheops in Egypt would look pathetic. Opposite to the Romsdalshorn the “Witches’ Pinnacles” and the “Bridal Procession” carry on their little pantomime through endless ages. Formerly it was supposed to be a great feat to climb the Romsdalshorn, but it has now been done so many times that the glamor of the achievement has worn off. The whole route up the Romsdal is lined at this time of year with imposing waterfalls. A waterfall in Norway is called a fos, and on this route, as on so many others in Norway, it is practically impossible to get out of sight of at least one tumbling fos. The three in Romsdal which excite the most interest are Mongefos, Værmofos, and Slettafos. The latter produces a roar which can be heard a great distance away, but the finest looking of the three is Værmofos. It makes one great leap of seven hundred feet and then is divided by a projecting rock into three separate falls, which leap another three hundred feet. But the Værmofos is only one of thousands and thousands, which leap or tumble helter-skelter into valleys and fjords all through the land. One writer says: “To enumerate the waterfalls of Romsdal would be rather a serious task. There are a dozen or two that would support half a dozen hotels, and be perpetually sketched, photographed, and stereoscoped if they were anywhere up the Rhine.”
The road winds in sharp zigzags or wide curves ever higher and higher, with the Rauma surging along below in its rock-bound gulley until we reach Domaas at the top of the pass.
I should have told you before something about our method of locomotion. So much travel in Norway must be done by road (railway mileage is the least in proportion to the extent of territory of any country in Europe) that posting has been developed to a high degree, and certain peculiarly national conveyances have come into being. The most distinctive of these is the carriole, a very diminutive, two-wheeled gig, which accommodates but one person beside the driver, who sits up behind. Even this one person must place his feet in stirrups outside the wagon and below its floor. If he tries to keep his feet inside the wagon he will find himself cramped into a bowknot. Your driver, who is known as skydsgut (pronounced shusgut), is generally a peasant boy. In many respects he is like peasant boys of other countries, but he is sure to possess the quality of absolute honesty. If you give him too much money by mistake, he will return your change. You cannot cheat yourself if you will. There is one other characteristic which your skydsgut will possess, if he is at all a normal Norwegian; that is a stolid sort of courtesy, which cannot be bullied into doing anything for you, but will invariably do the utmost if politely requested. Demand your carriole rather peremptorily and a little harshly, and you will get no answer—neither will you get your carriole. Tell your skydsgut that you are in a hurry to get started and would appreciate it if he could bring the carriole immediately. Before you have finished speaking he is off, and with all possible speed he brings you the carriole. The normal Norwegian simply cannot resist a polite appeal to his sympathy or courtesy. No more can he refrain from resisting to the finish an attitude of overbearing peremptoriness.
From the town of Domaas we must take a side excursion up into the Dovre Mountains or fjeld. The fjeld is generally a wild, rough, mountain wilderness, implying snow fields. It is the paradise of the solitude seeker, unless it be robbed of its quietude by the ubiquitous huntsman. Here we find the sæter huts in all their primitive, old-world charm. For centuries these sæter huts have existed just as they exist to-day. They are very rude affairs, being built only for summer occupation. Trunks of fir trees are fitted together, and the chinks are filled in with birch bark and sods. Generally a single room is used as sitting room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, and dairy. This doesn’t sound particularly attractive for the ultimate consumer of the dairy products, but the dairying processes are really carried on in cleanly and sanitary fashion.
Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N. Y.
A Stolkjaerre.
Into most of the accessible nooks of the fjeld the sportsman has found his way. Beasts of the field and birds of the air are still abundant in some places. Of this latter class there are found the more or less international grouse, woodcock, snipe, partridge, and golden plover. The Lapland bunting, the puffin, the kittiwake, and the capercaillie have a more northern sound, but I am not enough of a huntsman or a naturalist to know just where their habitat is.