GJENDEBODEN.
_Sunday, August 15._--Still the same beautiful weather. We spent the
morning fishing and bathing. Esau distinguished himself by falling into
the lake off a cliff, just as he had finished dressing after a bath;
nearly swamping his canoe, full of fish, rugs, and other valuables.
There was such a sun that he merely hung his things on the rocks and
went on fishing without them until they were dry, which took a very
short time. He always had savage tendencies, and would like to live
without clothes, but we consider this is not dignified, and will not
tend to promote discipline among our retainers. The Skipper got the best
bag, as he generally does on a calm day.
After lunch we packed our rods, fowling-pieces, and change of raiment
into the canoes, and started on a voyage of discovery up the lake,
intending to spend the night at Gjendebod--a hut at the western end
somewhat similar to Gjendesheim at the eastern, though not so large or
so well built, for the upper end of the lake does not get as many
visitors as the lower.
The expedition commenced with a disaster, owing, no doubt, to its being
Sunday. As John and Esau in the larger canoe were crossing the glacier
stream, something caused the boat to almost swamp, but fortunately right
again with a good deal of water in it. Esau said it was John's
clumsiness; John said it was Esau's recklessness in crossing at such a
rapid place, and much recrimination ensued. They went to shore and
emptied the water out, and then continued the voyage, nothing being wet
except the rugs used to kneel on. Only the Skipper lingered on the
voyage to fish; the other two paddling against a heavy head wind
completed the journey of five miles in about an hour, and had dinner
cooked and ready by the time the Skipper made his appearance with a
beautiful basket of trout.
Our dinner was made from the shoulder of venison sent us by Mr. Thomas.
It was utterly ruined in the cooking, for we are getting fastidious
after our own luxurious meals, and think as poorly of Gjendebod cookery
as a certain friend of ours did of English, when he complained that 'in
all the houses of the rich and great which he had ever known, he had
never seen a decent hot dinner served except when they had it cold for
lunch.'
We found here a young Norwegian who spoke English well, and gave us some
very interesting information, chiefly about the winter life in Norway;
also a very intelligible account of the land system of the country,
which we intend to send to Mr. Gladstone for use in his next Irish Land
Bill. We think it peculiarly adapted for Ireland, because, though we all
understood it perfectly at the time, we cannot agree about any of its
main features on comparing notes afterwards.
Presently there arrived here Coutts--our Gjendesheim acquaintance who
had made the extraordinary walk over the mountains. His hair had either
not grown since we last saw him, or else he had sand-papered it off
again. He had just achieved another remarkable feat. This was a climb to
the top of 'Stor Skagastolstind,' a mountain which has only been
ascended twice previously; first by an Englishman who spends most of his
time in doing such things, and afterwards by a Norwegian, the last time
being two years ago. Many others have tried and failed. The ordinary
traveller will find the feat of pronouncing its name fluently in the
course of conversation quite difficult enough; but it can be done by the
exercise of an iron will, and if not attempted more than once in a day,
no fatal effects need be apprehended. Once we met a very
careworn-looking man who told us he had been trying to make a pun on the
name, but we felt no pity for so foolhardy a wretch.
The authorized procedure for those who accomplish the ascent, is to
enclose their name and some coins in a bottle, and build a little cairn
round the bottle, leaving their handkerchief with it, and bringing down
the corresponding articles left by the last man. Coutts showed us the
handkerchief and bottle which he found on the top, but the coins he must
have spent in drinks on his way home, or else did not like to trust us
with them, as he could not produce them. He had, of course, left his own
handkerchief, and John, who is short of these useful though not
indispensable articles, was seized with a great longing to risk his life
and go to the summit of that mountain for Coutts's. At least, he was
very keen about it immediately after the description of the ascent and
hiding of the treasure; but since he became calmer we almost persuaded
him not to go, as he hates walking, especially uphill walking; it takes
two days to ascend the peak, one to get down again; and the whole
performance is slightly more difficult and hazardous than the ascent of
the Matterhorn.
It will probably be unnecessary to remark that Coutts did not for a
moment condescend to follow the path chosen by former climbers, but
having after considerable search found one at least twice as dangerous,
he chose that, as he had not time to look for a worse one.
_August 16._--After breakfast we found a drover, who was living in a hut
here, and impressed him to come out with us after Ryper--his function
being that of the dog. There are many of these drovers in the mountains
during the summer. They get cattle--how, we do not know; whether they
buy them, or merely drive them on commission for the owners; then they
feed them on the common lands, and drive them to some town at the end of
the summer. The huts that they live in are wretched little places. There
is one about two miles from our camp, built of rough stones against a
rock which forms two of the sides, without any door or window, and only
a hole to creep in at. No Englishman would keep his dog in such a place,
unless it were dead; but we are told that a drover lived there for a
month this year before we came, and it is considered of sufficient
importance to be marked on the Ordnance map, otherwise we should never
have seen it.
Our drover, however, was rather a great man, living in a hut with a real
door and a window, and a live woman inside to cook for him and iron his
shirt--at least, we imagined she must be doing this, as he had not got
one on.
Ryper shooting began by law yesterday, but our Sabbatarian proclivities
prevented us from going forth to the chase. The true reason is that we
superstitiously believe it will rain again if we shoot on Sunday, though
no one will confess that this is the feeling by which we are possessed.
We crossed the lake in the canoes--the Skipper and Esau to shoot, John
and Herr Drover to beat. There was a narrow belt of birch trees between
the lake and the willow belt in which we hoped to find the birds, and
before we got through this, our ears were gladdened by the sound of two
shots from Esau, who had walked on to two old birds and got them both;
but, alas! disappointment was in store for us. We walked up hill and
down dale, dry ground and marshy, willow belt and birch belt, but never
saw another ryper for five hours, and then we put up one old cock who
fled away with a derisive crow before we got within sixty yards of him.
It is hopeless work hunting ryper without dogs. We found plenty of
places where they had fed or sat, or been running on wet ground; but
they hate flying unless they are compelled, and on a day of this sort
lie like stones, though we have seen them after windy weather get up
almost as wild as Yorkshire grouse. But we feel that we have done our
duty in trying to shoot ryper, and so now can go back to our fishing and
stalking with a quiet conscience.
And if we got no more ryper we found such a quantity of 'möltebær,' that
there is every prospect of Esau being seriously ill for some days, which
would be a distinct gain as far as the consumption of our stores goes.
The 'möltebær' is a berry like a large yellow raspberry, very good
indeed to eat, with a sort of honey flavour about it. The Norwegians
think it better than the strawberry, though we hardly indorse this
opinion. It is a beautiful scarlet before it is ripe, and a dirty pale
yellow when ready to gather. It grows low down, and is difficult to
find, as it conceals itself in low, swampy, and rather dark places.
When we returned from the pursuit of the disobliging ryper, there was a
fair breeze down the lake, so we hoisted sails and were soon back at
Memurudalen.