We paused at the brow of the hill to have a last look at the beautiful lake and quaint little huts, and to take off our hats to grand old Nautgardstind, to whom we hoped we were not bidding an eternal ‘farvel;’ and then we turned across the fjeld, and, losing sight of the Rus valley, were soon looking forward again to the change and uncertainty of the homeward journey.
From Besse Sæter, which was reached at noon, we launched our craft into the lake with a nasty side-wind blowing, which delayed our progress considerably, so that we took an hour to reach the lower end of the lake, a distance of not quite four miles.
There we found Ivar with his pony and sleigh, on which the canoe was conveyed to the junction of the Sjoa and Russen Rivers, where Esau launched her again and ran the rapids down to Ruslien Sæter, a very fine bit of stream, in which the canoe could only just manage to live.
Finding that the sæter girls were still here, we went in and asked for milk. They suggested cream: amendment carried without a division. A huge bowl of the thickest and most delicious cream was set before us, which we, armed with two enormous spoons, attacked and soon consumed utterly, with an indefinite amount of fladbrod and cheese. Charge for the whole, sixpence! We have no hesitation in saying that the cream alone would have been worth its weight in gold in Piccadilly.
We then regained our craft, and had a delightful cruise down to Hind Sæter, the stream going at mill-race speed all the way, so that we did the two and a half miles in fifteen minutes, arriving long before our cavalcade of men and ponies, who started twenty minutes before us, while we were discussing the cream.
The sæter was deserted for the winter, but Ivar produced his cart from the bed of a stream where he had left it to improve the wheels, and at half-past five we, with Jens and one cart, resumed our journey, leaving the other two men with the canoe to follow us.
We had originally intended to make the journey to Lillehammer from here entirely by canoe down the Sjoa until it joined the Laagen, but the premature departure of the Skipper knocked that little scheme on the head.
It would have been a tremendous enterprise, for the Sjoa is such a turbulent river that there would have been a great deal of portage to be done; but we had agreed to allow a fortnight for it, and were looking forward to it with great delight. The Laagen is a fairly navigable river all the way, with the exception of a few very large falls; but there is a good road by its side, so that we should have had no difficulty if we had been lucky enough ever to reach it. However,
The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft a-gley;