“Commend me to gipsy life and hard living. Robust exercise, out-door life, and pleasant companions are sure to beget good dispositions, both of mind and body, and would create a stomach under the very ribs of death, capable of digesting a bar of pig iron.” George S. Phillips (January Searle).
THE DONTIND—ORMEIN—MOUNTAIN ROAD—OUR BIVOUAC—DELIGHTED VISITOR—THE WATER ELF—EXCITED GIPSIES—TAGE EN STOL—NORWEGIAN GIRLS—SUNDAY ON THE RAUMA—CARRIOLE TRAVELLING—COMING TO GRIEF—“SPILLE” A LITTLE—ESMERALDA’S BIRTHDAY—THE NORWEGIAN CLIMATE—THE SJIRIAGLNS—UNCOMFORTABLE BED—THE LARGE ANT.
It was a charming night. The Rauma foamed beneath and lulled us to sleep. The snow-covered and singularly shaped “Dontind” towered in the distance above the valley.
At seven o’clock the next morning we were up and had breakfast, tea, fladbröd, and butter. Whilst the gipsies were loading, we went to the log bridge, and viewed the picturesque fall of the Rauma, the “Sœndre Slettefossen,” foaming through high and overhanging rocks. Returning soon afterwards to our camp, we found Noah and Esmeralda in high dudgeon. A gale at sea, a simoom, or even an earthquake, could only be compared to it. The gist of Noah’s wrong was some real or fancied neglect on the part of Esmeralda to pack one pocket properly. In travelling our tent-cover, rugs, wardrobe, and a number of minor articles, were packed into one pocket, which was placed on the puru rawnee, and formed a pad for the other things she carried to rest upon. To avoid injury to the animal’s back it was, therefore, very essential that all hard substances should be placed in the corners of the pocket, so that they should not bear upon the animal’s back. It was necessary to use great care, especially during the long and difficult journey we had before us. Pouring oil on the troubled waters of the boro panee (gip., sea), we started with the thermometer at 78° Fahrenheit. All soon subsided into tranquillity and friendly feeling.
The sun now became very hot. Everywhere we were greeted with the same excitement, and the donkeys were much admired; grass was at times given them, and a friendly welcome to ourselves. Descending the beautiful road on the right side of the narrow valley, with pleasant farms below us on the slopes to the Rauma, we reached the post station of Ormein. Beautifully situated as it is, this station would be excellent quarters, and a comfortable resting place for the lover of nature, and the fisherman. There was a general rush as we came up. The donkeys were surrounded, and water and grass were brought for them. We went into the station and purchased a large loaf of bread, some excellent crisp fladbröd, a pound of good butter, and two kinds of Norwegian soap, for one mark and twenty skillings. There was a bed in the kitchen, covered with an animal’s skin. The fire was made on a raised hearth, the chimney rising straight from it, but without contact with the sides of the room; so that there is great economy of heat obtained. As you look from the station to the “Alter Hö” on the other side the valley, the picturesque vandfos, called Vermedalsfossen, dashes down the mountain side through wild and moss-covered craigs to the Rauma. From this place the Dontind or Storhœtten may be ascended. Leaving the kind and civil people of Ormein about half-past twelve o’clock, we continued our journey on the right bank of the Rauma. The road was still inclosed, and the immediate banks of the Rauma were cultivated for hay, potatoes, and grain, which seemed to thrive in sheltered situations. At length the mountains became more steep, lofty, and rugged on either side the valley, which formed a narrow flat through which the now level road ran. Coming to a gate we entered a space of wild broken ground open to the Rauma, which was close to the road. A very large mass of rock pitched on end, looking not unlike the representations of the celebrated English rocking-stone in Cornwall, stood not far from the gate, to the right of the road. The open green sward was margined by thick and tangled brushwood, rising immediately to the mountain precipices which overhung the valley. At a short distance beyond, the lofty mural steeps of a snow-covered mountain seemed to leave no possible outlet. Towering precipices of barren rock rose almost at once from the banks green with foliage on the opposite side to Rauma. Cascades fell in fleecy clouds of spray on either side into the valley below; we were never tired of watching them. The banks of the Rauma were low, the stream broad and broken in its course, and had a thousand rippling eddies and swirls formed by its rough and uneven bed. Birch-woods clothed the lower sides of the valley. One small log cottage in the distance, close to the road and near the river, was the only sign of human life we could see. The marks of bivouac fires under the shelter of the large leaning rock showed that it was a favourite halt for wayfarers.
The tents were pitched on a dry hillock near the low bushes beyond the leaning rock. We had just said to the gipsies that we should shortly see a peasant perched on a rock or on the top of a mountain, when two peasants immediately appeared, and some brandy was handed to them. One drank his glass with evident satisfaction, but the other pointed to his chest, so his companion swallowed his share. They got some grass for the donkeys, and afterwards left. A boy, who was travelling on foot with a satchel and his coat hanging from it, came from the road; he wore long boots much patched, home-spun brown trowsers, and waistcoat to match, with large black buttons having a flower on them in relief. Poor fellow, he was delighted with the animals, and for a considerable time sat watching them, with a smile of intense satisfaction on his countenance. The donkeys, we think, began to feel their social position in the animal world much elevated. The boy at last went some distance up the steep side of the mountain to get grass for them. He first ascertained from us that they eat grass, which he might have seen had he noticed what they were doing. Some weak brandy-and-water was offered to him, but he declined to drink it. The musical box was set playing near him as he lay on the grass, and he seemed delighted. Another boy came, and they seemed very reluctant to tear themselves away from our donkeys, but at last they left.
After a dinner of tea, ham, eggs, fladbröd, and butter, Noah washed his shirt, and went fishing with Zachariah. Esmeralda went to the river to wash some of our things, and we lounged by the tents. Several peasants came to see the donkeys.
The scenery of the valley was charming, and the evening wore on till six o’clock. First Zachariah returned dripping with wet, looking like a water elf fresh from the Rauma. He produced a grayling more than a pound weight, and some small trout, and related that he had nearly caught the grayling, and was getting it to the bank when the fly came out of its mouth. In an instant he plunged in, and threw it out. As he was changing his wet things, which we at once insisted upon, some people passed along the road who seemed much amused, and he had to play at hide-and-seek round the large rock to conceal himself. We rubbed him over with brandy, and he went fishing again.
Esmeralda, who had completed her washing, made tea, and whilst we were finishing our meal, some carriers came up and halted near the rock. They were informed they might have the use of our fire. Zachariah’s tea was put by for him. The carriers were rough, hardy men, well-dressed, and respectable in appearance. They had a light cart heavily laden. One of them sat down, and producing a quantity of fladbröd from a tine (pronounced teena) and a small wooden box of butter, commenced leisurely consuming his provisions. Most of the peasants we met chew tobacco. We often saw them produce a quid from their pockets, and, putting it in their mouths, spit in all directions. Snuff-taking did not seem to be a habit. The carriers said they had come from Veblungsnœs, and had halted to rest their horses, and would not remain the night. They were delighted with our tents, the interior fittings, and especially with the donkeys.
It was after ten o’clock when Zachariah returned with his eyes sparkling with fire, and seventeen small trout. The usual animated discussion arose between the gipsies as to who had caught the most fish. “Now then, Lucas,” Noah would vociferate, “I say you have only caught twenty-three.” “What, only twenty-three?” Zachariah would answer, his eyes wildly flashing with excitement, and shouting in a still higher key, “No such thing, Noah.” “Now you count, Mr. Smith; here are seventeen, and nine before, make twenty-six.”