FLY SÆTER.
_July 24._--The morning was again beautifully fine, and the coffee at
the sæter was passing delicious, even for this country, where coffee is
always good. No doubt the chief reason of this is that it is never
roasted and ground till just when it is wanted, not only at the hotels,
but at the smallest sæters. The grinding of coffee and the frying of
trout are grateful sounds to the wearied traveller, and if the walk
across the fjeld has failed to give him an appetite, he has still the
chance of obtaining one from the fragrant aroma of the roasting berry.
This sæter is in a most beautiful situation, perched on a little flat
bit of ground on the mountain side, and looking down on a
wide-stretching sea of grey undulating hills, with lakes lying among
them dotted about near and far, and all the lower ground covered with
the everlasting pine forest. To the south can be seen the river Hinögle,
which runs out of the Heimdal Lakes, threading its way with gleams of
white through the dark green and grey of the forest and fjeld. To the
north far below in the valley is Aakre Vand, a beautiful irregularly
shaped lake dotted with fir-clad islands; while beyond, high up, there
can be just distinguished Aakre Sæter, and frowning over it the dark
mass of Aakre Kampen, a mountain of considerable height. Aakre Vand is a
lake that we had intended to fish after Slangen Vand, but as there
seemed to be no possibility of getting our property from one to the
other we gave up the notion. According to all accounts it is a good lake
for fish, and its shores are untainted by the habitations of man.
We started about 9.30, having paid 5s. 6d. for the board and lodging of
ourselves and our numerous retinue, including the price of a sack-full
of hay for our beds, as this was the last place at which we expected we
could get any.
After watching for a short time our valuables jolting, plunging, and
splashing over the uneven ground, covered with rocks, junipers, and
occasional logs and brooks, the wear and tear on our heart-strings
became too severe, and we decided to walk on to Sikkildals Sæter, about
four miles, and leave the baggage to its fate under the guidance of our
three charioteers. It took us till eleven o'clock to get within half a
mile of the sæter, and there we sat down and watched the track intently
for two hours: then two hours more--and we began to lose patience; then
another hour--and we began to lose hope also. Something must have
happened; either a canoe was smashed, or washed away crossing a stream,
or one of the sleighs was upset and broken, or they were bogged, or the
man carrying the bag had fainted, or his pony become unmanageable and
dashed through a shop window; or, most dreadful thought, the men had got
at our whisky and become hopelessly drunk.
[Illustration: Desperate Conflict between Esau and the Mosquito]
Another hour passed, and our small remaining stock of good temper went:
we were very hungry, and all our food was on the sleighs, and the
mosquitoes seemed to be even more hungry than we were. Hope deferred,
with nothing but mosquitoes to distract one's thoughts, maketh the heart
very sick indeed: and these were most annoyingly large mosquitoes; the
finest brand that we have yet inspected, and with more strength of
character than the ordinary kind. We were so much annoyed with the world
in general, and each other, that we were obliged to separate, and Esau
retired for a short time to attempt a sketch. He came back very angry,
because just at the critical moment a mosquito had knocked his hat off,
and he had had a desperate and perspiring conflict with it under a
tropical sun; but eventually the brute was vanquished and its head cut
off, which he said he would have stuffed, to hang up in his ancestral
halls. He certainly bore on his face the marks of the struggle, so that
there seemed to be no reason to doubt the story.
[Plate: ON THE TRACK NEAR SIKKILDALS LAKE.]
Our state of despondency waxed worse and worse; we had not the slightest
confidence in our head driver; he was undoubtedly the Svatsum village
fool, for he talked all day, and the other men went into roars of
laughter at whatever he said, though the Skipper said _he_ couldn't see
anything funny in most of his remarks; but possibly the Skipper was
jealous because this man made better Norsk jokes than his own. Besides
this, the fact that neither of us understood the language, detracted
from the merits of the jests.
Years rolled away, and at six o'clock something came slowly into sight.
'Out with the glass!' (the spy-glass). 'Yes, by George! it is the men
and sleighs at last. Out with the other glass!' and we finish the 'wee
drappie' that we were saving to the last extremity. They soon arrived at
Sikkildal Sæter with us, and we found that nothing had gone wrong, but
the men had been _very_ careful, and so had taken nine hours to make a
journey of four miles. The track certainly would be a disgrace to a
Metropolitan Vestry, and they managed well to arrive with everything
uninjured. We consider the village fool to be a most painstaking and
praiseworthy idiot.
At Sikkildal Sæter we got some food and called at a small house close to
it, where a Mr. B., a Norwegian barrister, was staying for the summer.
He is the owner of the Sikkildal Lakes, and we wanted permission to camp
on his land and fish in his lakes. He understood English as well as all
the upper classes in Norway do; and was very civil, giving us the
permission most willingly.
We have heard from a good many people that the wealthier Norwegians do
not like the English, and will not do anything to oblige them; but in
all our wanderings we have met with nothing but the greatest kindness
and hospitality from all classes. Several people have gone out of their
way to voluntarily offer fishing and shooting, and in no instance has
the slightest incivility been shown. Certainly Norway will compare with
England very much to advantage in this respect, though of course we do
not mean to say that similar conduct would be possible in England.
At about seven in the evening we got all our cargo shipped again and
started up the lower Sikkildals lake--having first paid our charioteers
3_l._ for the trip from Olstappen, three men, horses and sleighs,
sixteen miles over the rockiest, brookiest, and juniperiest country in
this world; and offered them whisky and water all round, including two
men from the sæter who came to our assistance when the smallest pony,
not being accustomed to the deceitfulness and treacherous wiles of this
life, got up to its neck in a bog close to the lake, and the man with
the bag followed it. However, they were extricated with no damage done,
as our provisions were all securely soldered up in tins. Curious to
relate, our three men did not like whisky, but just sipped for
'manners,' and only the two old men from the sæter would drink it; but
these two old men liked it very much, and drank all they could get--that
is to say, their own glasses full, and the other fellows' glasses full,
and just a drop after that, and then just a taste to top up with. Then
we shook hands all round, and feeling in charity with all men, sailed
joyously away up the lake.
It was a real Norwegian night, with the warmth and light of the departed
sun still lingering on the mountain tops, and a midnight twilight
glowing in the valleys. We had a beautiful full moon to help us on our
way, so we went right to the upper end of the first lake, and found a
camping-ground halfway between the two lakes, which are about a hundred
yards apart. The portage took us some time, but we were full of energy
from the cool night air, so refreshing after the long hot summer day. We
dug out a nice level place for the tent, and got everything settled and
ourselves in bed about midnight.