A Breen-stok, or Bucket for Sharpening Stone.
After our return from Maraak, Captain Dahl continued his passage towards Aalesund. The Geiranger features were less marked until we arrived at an immense perpendicular surface of rock, evidently but recently exposed to view; and its appearance is explained by the fact that some years ago the whole facing of this mountain came bodily down into the fjord, raising an immense wave which swept across the expanse of water, and almost entirely destroyed the village on the opposite side. A more recent case occurred in the Nordfjord. The Hornelen Mountain rises majestically from the fjord, going down from Bryggen. Out of compliment to this monarch and giant a new steamer was named after it; and, on the first occasion of passing, the captain honoured Hornelen with a salvo, which was promptly answered by a great mass of rock being launched from the mountain side, throwing up a wave which nearly annihilated the saluters, and frightened some of them so much that they will never venture to repeat their feu de joie. It is equally dangerous to disturb or cause any considerable vibration in the atmosphere under glacial ice or snowdrift: many lives have been lost in this way, and the fact cannot be too strenuously impressed on the minds of all travellers.
VI.
MOLDE AND ROMSDAL.
MOLDE—THE GOOD SHIP “TASSO”—STATLAND—AALESUND—MOLDE LANDING—HERR BUCK—THE LOVE OF FLOWERS AT MOLDE—THE LEPER HOUSE—MOLDE TO VEBLUNGSNÆS—THE BEAR AND THE PIGE—ROMSDAL FJORD—AAK—THE RAUMA—THE OLD CHURCH OF GRYTEN—THE CANDELABRA—HERR ONSUM—NÆSS—THE SKYD-GUT—THE SAIL WITH SEA ROVERS—THE INEBRIATED BAKER OF WHITE BREAD—OLE LARSEN—THE LAAVE—HERR LANDMARK AND THE HOTEL AT AAK—KJERULF THE COMPOSER—THE ROMSDAL HORN—THE TROLTINDERNE—FIVA—THE MEAL HOUSE—THE STEEN-SKREED—THE SOLGANG WIND—THE SHEEP BOY AND GOAT HORN—SEA-FISHING—WOODWORK—CARRIOLES—HOW TO CROSS A RIVER—OLD KYLE—MØLMEN CHURCH, AND THE SLEEPER’S CURE—FLIES—SALMON-FISHING FROM A TINE.
O those going northward Molde has especial interest for many reasons: its situation is beautiful, its climate delightful, its vegetation luxuriant, its flora abundant, and, as a centre to radiate from, it is most convenient. To arrive there one becomes associated pro tem. with the good ship Tasso. “Good ship” is used, in this instance, as a term of affection among old Norwegians. In former days it was rarely that any save real sportsmen or regular fishers were to be found on board. Every one was known. The steward knew every one by name; the captain looked forward to seeing his “regulars,” and could tell exactly how much he would see of each individual passenger. Judging from the weather, he could guess the number for each festive meal in the saloon, and knew without a doubt who would propose to smoke a cigar on deck, or one more pipe before turning in, and who would be ready to spin a good yarn if there were any chance of conversation flagging. From Hull to Trondhjem a fraternity existed, on condition that no one betrayed undue curiosity about his fellow-traveller’s river. That condition carried out, any one might kill his fish over and over again, and even add a pound or two, rather than the relater should not be happy. The captain of the Tasso was decidedly a favourite, and could the weather at all times have proved as fair as the captain himself, the Tasso would have been always crowded with passengers; for even in spite of the stormy winds of the North Sea there has been such a thing as a telegram for the captain, hoping he would wait for the next train, as —— wanted to go by the Tasso. There is much sentiment about this dear old vessel. Light as a cork, in a breeze she can throw you up off your legs, and catch you somehow when you come down. She is lively, but that is better than being driven through everything, tunnelling the long seas. Besides, if the Saturday be very bad, and Saturday night too, Sunday afternoon generally improves matters, and by the evening some ladies venture up in the captain-cabin on deck for a little fresh air, and are well looked after; for the captain himself, in spite of having been up all night, comes out with his personal appearance unimpaired, and buttoning his gloves, which he wears only on Sundays. He had a very impressive way of buttoning the right glove, as if a great work had just been completed, and the mere act would revive the passengers. Still he was a thorough sailor and a great favourite, and everybody regrets that he no longer commands the Tasso.
The Landing-Place: Molde.