THE NORD FJORD
The first impression we receive on approaching the fjords from the sea
is perhaps not often a pleasant one, especially in dull weather.
Monotonous grey rocky islands appear to look with wicked eyes on every
ship that passes by them, as though expectant of another victim to
embrace in the deep waters, there to be torn and mangled in their cruel
fangs. Over these rocks moan everlasting breakers, whose weird
dirge-like sound is blended with the wild shrieking of sea-birds till
it almost appears that there exists some close uncanny relationship and
wicked conspiracy between rocks, birds, and breakers.
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The steamer, which gradually threads its way through this maze of
coast-islands, now emerges into more open water, and presently we
arrive at Florö, an island in the blue sea, bright with houses,
warehouses, and shipping. Quite a small town has grown up here, and
Floro is now an important calling-place for the larger steamers and a
great fishing-station.
In a few hours we come to the large island of Bremanger, on whose
eastern end stands the huge towering mass of Hornelen, peaked and
furrowed, rising perpendicularly out of the sea, the crags appearing
even to overhang the steamer as we sail close to the mountain-wall.
Here the heavy surges moan in a most uncanny way, and echo in deep
notes up the huge cavernous rents in the mountain-side before us.
According to an ancient tradition, King Olav Trygvesson in the tenth
century scaled this many-peaked mountain and rescued one of his
followers who had got into danger among the crags.
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We are now at the entrance to Nord Fjord, and the steamer seems to make
its way towards a towering but distant mass of high mountains, on which
we discern large uneven patches of perpetual snow. Gradually, as we
advance, the nearer masses of rock appear to part asunder, in order to
allow the steamer to pass through.
We come now into the fjord proper, and by degrees a new attraction
grows into our interest as we say good-bye to the monotonous; for now
we may see fresh and unexpected sights--large bright patches of green,
small white wooden churches and clusters of brightly painted cottages
dotted here and there--and they one and all appear to extend a smile of
welcome to us as we approach. We hear the snow-white mountain becks
breaking into waterfalls on every side as they hurry on and plunge
themselves gleefully into the sparkling fjord. Graceful birches clothe
the valleys and shelter in the rocky clefts in the mountain-sides,
while in the {120} background are those same snow-topped mountains that
we have seen for the last few hours. They are nearer to us now, and as
we sail from one side of the fjord to the other, calling to take in or
to discharge passengers and goods, these same snow-crowned heights seem
to follow us on our way, as if they kept watch and ward over an
enchanted land.
We now come to a broader stretch of fjord: larger valleys open out to
the view, and the sky seems brighter. This open space crossed, more
frequent signs of civilization meet the eye. The farms are larger and
the stretches of cultivated land are more extensive.
We now discern hayfields, cornfields, and potato patches. The houses
and farmsteads are larger and more substantial, showing that there is a
more prosperous people in these inner parts of the fjord.
Frequent waterfalls are passed, some of which send their spray even
over the steamer's deck as they leap down the precipitous cliffs.
Torrents come with a {121} noisy swing down the steep valleys, turning
in their course many a tiny wooden corn-mill.
Everything around seems full of life, and pleasant sounds meet the
ear--the murmur of rocky becks, the tinkling of sheep and cattle bells,
the plash of busy oars on the clear silvery water--and the merry voices
of children are heard as they play on the pebbly strand near by. The
eye is refreshed by the sight of the bright cottages which are
embosomed in their own little orchards surrounded by green fields, and
a background of richly wooded slopes leads up to the blue mountains
above and beyond. An ancient church reposing in its quiet domain gives
the keynote to the whole--one of harmony, simplicity, and Arcadian
peace.
As we gaze on such a scene, it seems to have the power to fascinate and
to hold us, as though in the grip of some unseen force of fairy magic,
and from which we tear ourselves almost unwillingly away.
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The scenery increases in grandeur the farther we penetrate, and the
mountains and valleys are more densely wooded. We dip into narrow
branches or ramifications of the main fjord, where beautiful vistas
open out, and as we sail down Gloppen Fjord to the hamlet of Sandene
the views are especially charming.
[Illustration: A salmon river, Stryn, Nord Fjord]
From Visnæs, at the northern extremity of the innermost branch of the
main Nord Fjord, we can drive along the banks of a noted salmon river
and visit the beautiful Strynsvand. This lake is quite surrounded by
magnificent mountains, on which lie extensive glaciers, Skaalan, on our
right, being the most conspicuous. Around this lake are many large
farms; some are situated high up the mountains in apparently
inaccessible places. Here also wild valleys open out in all
directions, and continue their ravines up to the bases of the glaciers.
At the foot of one of these ravine-like valleys, and just underneath
the massive Skaalan, and in a picturesque situation by the {123} lake's
margin, stands the little church of Opstryn.
At Hjelle, at the eastern head of the lake, a fine mountain-road has
been engineered, and this traverses the wild and romantic Vide Valley.
The view looking backward from Vide "sæter" is magnificent. The narrow
valley is hemmed in by mighty and steep mountain forms, and Stryns
Lake, green with glacier water, is seen far below, while across the
lake rises the huge mass of Skaalan and its glacier as a background to
the picture.
Sincerity, honesty, and freedom from conventional cant are the chief
national virtues of the Norwegians, although inquisitiveness is rampant
in this district. The outer forms of politeness are often very little
observed.
On arriving at an inn, the traveller is seldom welcomed by the host or
hostess, and on his departure he may not even then see them. This
omission may leave on the traveller the impression of neglect, {124}
but it arises partly from the people's national unobtrusiveness and
simplicity of character. Also, as the innkeepers are nearly all
peasants, and their chief business is farming, this apparent neglect
may thus be accounted for, and some allowance be made.
On meeting with a stranger, it is the custom with the natives of this
district, and considered by them to be the height of politeness, to ask
such questions as the following: "Stranger out on a journey, I
suppose?" "And where do you come from, I wonder?" "And what kind of
business do you follow?" "And what do they call you where you come
from?" These rather inquisitive questions are always put very
politely, and they are usually answered in the same vein.
This apparent inquisitiveness is really but a conventional manner with
them, and means only an introduction to a friendly chat, in much the
same way that some people in our own country begin a conversation by
commenting on the weather.
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Among themselves these primitive peasants salute each other on meeting
with "Godt mod" ("Keep in good courage," or "good heart"); and if a
neighbour should be at work; "Gud velsigne arbeidet" ("God bless your
work"), or, on coming into a room where the family are at their meal,
the salutation is, "Gud velsigne maden," or "signe maden" ("God bless
your food").
Many of the peasants in this district, especially the older ones, wear
to this day quite a picturesque costume. It differs in some respects
from the dress of those in other districts. The men wear knee-breeches
of a coarse grey cloth ("vadmel") and white, thick stockings, a red
coat with a very high collar, and a tall, stiff felt hat.
The women wear a close-fitting red or green vest or bodice, elaborately
trimmed with silver braid back and front, and white sleeves. Those who
are married wear a tall cloth cap, generally black, and somewhat
resembling in shape an elongated fireman's helmet.
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The girls usually wear on the head a coloured handkerchief. In former
times they wore long skirts from earliest childhood, but latterly, much
to the disgust of elder dames, short skirts have come into fashion.
In this inner district of Nord Fjord are three very beautiful
lakes--Stryns Vand, which I have just referred to, Loen Vand, and Olden
Vand. All three are situated in the heart of scenery of the grandest
character. The mountains around are higher than any we have yet seen,
and glaciers and waterfalls are here more numerous. The valleys are
deep and narrow, and farmsteads are few and far between; often some
five or six miles of rocky land divides them from each other.
Some of these ancient homesteads nestle among mighty boulders which
have detached themselves ages ago from precipitous crags above.
In spring and autumn, after heavy rains, these farms are still farther
isolated. {127} The rocky streams are then swollen into foaming
torrents, and the footpaths are destroyed, or of very little use, and
to pay a visit to a neighbour one must either creep under a waterfall
or climb up the steep mountain flank some thousand feet before being
able to cross over the impetuous stream.
As we reach the head of a valley we come to those death-still places
which have no houses, no road, and no name--desolate wildernesses where
huge mountains embrace each other in glacier and snow-field.
These majestic mountains raise their peaks some 6,500 feet into the
heavens, and they completely enclose the three enchanting lakes which
form the crowning beauty of this district.
The bases of the mountains are clothed with splendid birch-woods, and
in the valleys near the water grow roses and other flowers--a rich and
abundant flora, which contrasts beautifully with the sombre grandeur of
the surrounding {128} scenery. Surpassing the famous Alpine lakes in
majesty, these of Norway can also vie with them in charm.
Loen Vand may be considered quite the most characteristic and imposing
of these lakes. Glaciers descend from all the mountains around, the
magnificent Kjendalsbræ being perhaps most conspicuous. So near to the
edge of the precipice do these glaciers creep that they almost appear
to overhang the lake.
In several places it is nothing unusual to see enormous masses of ice
pushed over the edge of the cliff, and to hear them fall with a
metallic rattle down the precipitous rocks, leaving in their wake
clouds of finely-powdered snow.
Profound and impressive is this sublime nature. Everything is on such
a grand scale that we feel as pigmies in the midst of it as we row on
the deep lake, whose still surface reflects as in a mirror every detail
of the majestic scenery. Crags, trees, and farmsteads, even sheep and
cattle browsing on patches of {129} greensward--all repeat their images
in reversed replica on the quiet bosom of the water.
In the hot days of early summer and in this clear and rarefied
atmosphere this is a most enchanting sight, and one whose treasured
memories shall live for aye.
[Illustration: Loen Vand and glacier, Nord Fjord]
We now retrace our steps and return to join the native fjord steamer,
and here we see in process of embarking quite a lively and interesting
cargo. Already the little steamer appears to be full. We observe that
sheep and cattle are put into improvised pens on deck. On the crowded
pier we see that yet more sheep, lambs, and cattle are to be taken on
board. Other pens of wooden hurdles and anything available are
hurriedly made, and as the hold of the vessel is full already, places
are also found for the animals in the passage near the engine-room.
Now arrive a number of goats and kids, some of the latter being carried
in the arms of bright-faced peasant girls, who now stand on the pier to
await the time when their struggling burden can be placed {130}
somewhere on the crowded steamer. Several bony cows and calves are now
unceremoniously lowered down on to the deck by the noisy crane, each
one separately in a sling. These last comers are now fastened to the
rails along the ship's side. The lamb-pen is now tenderly covered with
sackcloth as a protection from the cool night air by the red-faced,
good-natured steersman before the steamer starts.
These domestic animals are being transferred from the home farms to
their respective "sæters," which lie in other parts of the district.
There the cattle wax fat on the rich grazing of the high land during
the summer months.
As we sail near the shore we may observe in certain places that a
peculiar elevated staging on tall, slender legs overhangs the water.
It is usually fastened to some jutting rock.
This contrivance is used by the peasants as a look-out for the purpose
of fishing for salmon. It is called a "laxeverp." In {131} the
box-like framework at the top is placed a seat, and from this point of
vantage the fisherman is able to see down into the deep clear water and
ascertain if there are any salmon in the nets below. These nets he
regulates by lines held in his hand, the ends of which are attached to
the mouths of the salmon nets.
There are usually two men out a-fishing. One is seated on the
"laxeverp," the other goes out in a boat to any place indicated by his
companion, draws in that part of the net, and secures and kills his
fish. At one of these fjord "laxeverps" may be killed in the course of
a day from twenty to thirty salmon in the height of the season.
Falejde, beautifully situated on the north side of the fjord--we are
still in Nord Fjord--is a well-known centre for a variety of
excursions. Visnæs, however, has taken from Falejde in recent years a
great deal of the tourist traffic, being a more convenient
starting-place for the lakes we have just spoken of, also for the {132}
new overland route to the Geiranger district via Vide Valley.
Personally, I prefer the older route from Falejde and via Grodaas, down
the magnificent Nordangsdal to Öie, on the Hjörund Fjord, in the
district of Söndmöre.
[Sidenote: Falejde to Öie]
About the end of the month of May, and beneath cloudless skies--there
had been no rain to speak of for the past three weeks--I left Falejde
to take this charming drive by "kariol" and sure-footed pony.
After a lingering farewell glance at the beautiful fjord view, as seen
from the little inn here, we commenced our journey. In the still and
warm morning air one could hear the drowsy hum of bees and the clear
notes of a song-bird. Sheep and cattle browsed on the hilly slopes,
their bells tinkling as they grazed on grass still wet with dew.
Uphill we went, through odoriferous pine-woods, the roadside being
fringed by an abundance of wild-strawberry in full flower, and among
moss-grown boulders {133} cranberry and whinberry bushes showed
themselves in great profusion. Here and there are large patches of
bell-heather and ling, which still retain, though now faded, their last
year's bloom.
A snow-plough by the roadside has not yet been removed, showing how
near we are to the past season, and how closely connected with it is
this warm sunny day of May. The pine forest we are still passing
through becomes denser now, and the morning light is as twilight in
this thick glade.
Our attention is suddenly drawn to a lively squirrel, who swings
rapidly from branch to branch; a pine marten is in full pursuit. In
the excitement of the chase they are both quite unobservant of
passers-by, and across the trees which overhang the road they spring,
and it is not long before the sound from the forest depths of the thin
piping squeak of the hunted squirrel tells of tragedy.
Between the tall trunks of the pine-trees we obtain occasional peeps of
blue fjord {134} and snow-topped mountain forms as we drive along.
Having now crossed the watershed, we gradually descend, and patches of
cultivated land begin to appear on the wide valley sides. Passing
several farms ("gaard") we now see below us an extensive lake,
Hornindalsvand, along whose rocky shore we drive; and presently we
arrive at Grodaas, the little inn and hamlet being prettily situated in
a tree-fringed bay on the lake's eastern margin. Surrounding this
broad and beautiful lake are high mountains of picturesque form.
Large farmsteads are here, and well-cultivated land, and an air of
prosperity pervades the place. Continuing our drive along the wide
valley, Hornindal, we gradually ascend through more open country. The
snow-clad mountain-tops are nearer to us now, and on both sides their
craggy forms appear in many a quaint-shaped peak. Farther on, near
"Gaard" Kjelstadli, we are at a height of about 1,400 feet above
sea-level. That apparently {135} inaccessible pinnacle in front of us
is Horndalsrokken ("rokken")--the distaff. Here we approach a
magnificent mountain region, and, descending the steep hilly road to
where it divides at "Gaard" Tryggestad--one branch going to
Hellesylt--we enter that deep and gloomy valley, the Nordangsdal. This
narrow gorge-like valley is closely hemmed in by high, majestic, and
sharp-peaked mountains. Below "Gaard" Fibelstad and Hougen, as we
descend, this huge chasm-like valley contracts and becomes so narrow
that there is barely room in some places for the rocky torrent and the
road between the perpendicular mountain buttresses.
We now drive alongside five very narrow lakes in succession; these
completely fill up the bottom of the gorge. At several places on the
road we are compelled to dismount, and walk over huge, deep
snow-patches. These are the remains of winter avalanches which have
not yet melted; they stretch across the road, and form natural bridges
of hard snow over the torrent which gurgles {136} below. Emerging from
this deep and terrible gorge, we gradually descend, passing on the way
the sequestered hamlet of Skylstad.
So enclosed is this little group of turf-roofed houses by high
mountains that the inhabitants do not feel the warm sun's rays during
the greater part of the year.
[Sidenote: The Hjörund Fjord]
From this place, by easy road, we drive along the widening valley, and,
passing several poor farms, we at length arrive at Öie, a small hamlet
picturesquely situated by the shores of the narrow Norangs Fjord, an
arm of the grand Hjörund Fjord. By the Norwegians themselves this is
thought to be the grandest of all their fjords. It is not easy to
decide, however, as each one of them has its own particular
characteristics.
[Illustration: Hjörlund Fjord, Öie]
The mountains around here attain a height of some 5,000 to 6,000 feet.
Their tops are peaked and pinnacled; some even appear to lean forward,
as though ready to spring out across the fjord or valley. Decorative
patches of snow and glacier {137} rest between their huge flanks, and
woods of hardy birch and alder clothe their bases.
Majestic scenery is this, of the sharp peak and pinnacle type, and of
its kind no grander is there in the whole of Norway.
"The mountains near
Stand up in fixed and monumental gaze,
As pyramids precipitous and bold."[1]
[1] G. Gilfillan.
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