While we were doing the last bit above Sjödals Lake, our men, instigated no doubt by Öla the Lazy, seized the opportunity given by a long rapid to go home, and as we were pretty well tired out with our exertions, we left the canoes above the lowest fall and walked back to Gjendesheim. But we cannot recommend this river to future voyageurs; there are too many places that cannot be run; and we hear that we are regarded as decidedly mad for having attempted it.
Öla, our stalker, is a man whom we do not much admire. He is a big, handsome fellow, with a light beard and moustache, and rather a weak face; and his good qualities are extreme cleverness at almost any kind of work—carpentry, smith’s work, needlework, and saddlery, all seem to come alike to him—and as a deer-stalker he is first-rate, and never makes a mistake. But we fear that his profession at home is to be an independent gentleman, and he is very lazy, and nearly always sulky. This sulkiness annoys us more than anything else, but we also get very angry with him for being afraid of everything. He is afraid to go in the canoes, and nothing has ever induced him to enter either of them. He is afraid of rowing against a wind, or going out stalking on two successive days, lest he should tire himself; and he is afraid of washing up plates and pans lest he should lose dignity, but it does not bore him to sit by and watch other people perform the operation.
The Gjende fly was a marvellous sight to-day; we thought him numerous before, but we little knew the accumulated villany of which this noxious creature is capable. Every fly that we saw here a week ago has now got a large and healthy family of some hundreds, and a darkness which may be felt broods over the river and its shores. And now that the cold weather has set in, he begins to perceive that his short but effectual career of annoyance draws near to its close, and the whole face of nature is covered with torpid crawling things, that make one turn in disgust from everything one touches. May his end come soon, for we love him not.
We are very comfortable here at night sitting round the noble fireplace in the corner of the room. These corner fireplaces are found in every sæter and homestead in this part of the country, and are very picturesque and cheery, vastly superior to the modern stove, that may be seen standing up gaunt and inhospitable in every house in more civilised regions. Most of them have the chimney supported by a crooked piece of birch wood coming down from the roof and hooked underneath the projecting angle of stonework, but in some there is instead an upright iron bar from the hearth. Generally speaking, they are placed quite against the wall in the corner, but we have seen several with a space behind large enough to walk through, and one which even had a bed behind it.
September 6.—
The sea on Gjendin has organised something remarkably like a ground swell under the influence of the continuous storm, and its fury is more magnificent than ever; no boat here would have a chance of living in it.