You remember that George and I went to Jasjvold Saeter in order to get
some "reeper," and also to explore the gorge of which we had heard.
As you get higher up above the level of the sea, the nature of the
country and of the plants changes. In the lower level you get trees
and bushes and flowers very much like those in England, but as you
rise higher nothing but fir trees, pines, and birch trees seem to
grow. Then as you get up a bit the fir trees come to an end, and you
find only small birch trees, after which there are no trees.
You come out on the open moorland where there is heather, like that in
Scotland, and other small shrubs, one of which would interest boys
because it grows a very nice little fruit called "blue-berries." Above
the heather, that is, at a height of over 4000 feet, you get what is
called moss. This is really a kind of lichen like you see growing on
trees at home, a pale, yellowish-white, spongy kind of plant, which
seems to thrive on barren, rocky mountain sides, and forms feed for
the reindeer which run wild in these parts.
Well, George and I used to go out from the Saeter directly after
breakfast each day, carrying our ruksacks on our backs, and one of us
a gun and the other a fishing rod in his hand. And the dogs went with
us. In our ruksacks we carried a kettle, some bread, butter, and
coffee, and a change of shoes and stockings, for what with wading
through streams and stepping into bogs we were pretty wet about the
feet before the day was ended.
On the first day we went and discovered the head of the gorge, high up
on the mountain side, and each day after that we explored a new bit of
it till we had followed it down to where it opened on to the valley at
its foot.
The gorge was a deep cleft in the mountain-side of dark, frowning
cliffs, with a bright, clear mountain stream running along among the
rocks and stones at its bottom.
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