RAPID-RUNNING.
_Sunday, September 5._--To-day the Skipper and Esau determined to try to
run the canoes down the river to Sjödals Lake, where we intend to leave
them during our stay at Rus Vand.
All things being ready, the Skipper started about eleven o'clock on his
perilous voyage, closely followed by Esau. The river is full of
impracticable falls, some of them twenty or thirty feet high, but
between these places there are splendid rapids, and the excitement of
running them is delightfully fascinating. When we came to a bad fall we
carried the canoes round, and enlisted the services of our two men to
help us in this part of the performance. Öla did not like this at all,
for carrying a canoe of 80 lbs. weight over very rough ground is hard
work, and Öla loveth the fireside and the odour of roasting coffee
better than hard work on the Sabbath.
Presently we came to a place which the Skipper wanted to run, but which
Esau declared to be too dangerous; it was a very swift and rocky rapid,
with two extremely sudden turns, the lower of which was only a few yards
above a high fall. Esau only ran past the first turn, which was quite
nervous work enough, and then got to shore and waited on the bank for
the result of the Skipper's exploit.
Down he came at about fifteen miles an hour, took the first turn most
successfully, and then, by some extraordinary strokes of his paddle,
which no man living but himself could have performed, and aided by a
species of miracle, he got round the second; but then an eddy caught the
canoe, and she became unmanageable, so that instead of stopping in a
little creek of quiet water as he intended, he came straight on at a
terrific speed, and ran high and dry on a ledge of rock just above the
fall, losing his paddle at the shock. Wonderful to relate, the canoe was
not a bit injured, but the paddle whirled over the abyss and disappeared
for ever; and the Skipper was pleased because he had not done the same.
We spent five hours in this kind of amusement, and enjoyed it almost
more than anything else we have done. The constant danger of a smash or
an upset, the sensation of speed, the delight of the sudden rush to the
gliding dip over a fall, with the water roaring past a rock on each
side; the big waves below the fall, which catch the canoe and toss it
from one to another till you feel as if you must be thrown out; and the
curious appearance that the hurrying foam-flecked waters all round
present, combine to make Sunday rapid-running a very popular pursuit.
While we were doing the last bit above Sjödals Lake, our men, instigated
no doubt by Öla the Lazy, seized the opportunity given by a long rapid
to go home, and as we were pretty well tired out with our exertions, we
left the canoes above the lowest fall and walked back to Gjendesheim.
But we cannot recommend this river to future voyageurs; there are too
many places that cannot be run; and we hear that we are regarded as
decidedly mad for having attempted it.
[Illustration: Making a Portage by the Sjoa River]
Öla, our stalker, is a man whom we do not much admire. He is a big,
handsome fellow, with a light beard and moustache, and rather a weak
face; and his good qualities are extreme cleverness at almost any kind
of work--carpentry, smith's work, needlework, and saddlery, all seem to
come alike to him--and as a deer-stalker he is first-rate, and never
makes a mistake. But we fear that his profession at home is to be an
independent gentleman, and he is very lazy, and nearly always sulky.
This sulkiness annoys us more than anything else, but we also get very
angry with him for being afraid of everything. He is afraid to go in the
canoes, and nothing has ever induced him to enter either of them. He is
afraid of rowing against a wind, or going out stalking on two successive
days, lest he should tire himself; and he is afraid of washing up plates
and pans lest he should lose dignity, but it does not bore him to sit by
and watch other people perform the operation.
The Gjende fly was a marvellous sight to-day; we thought him numerous
before, but we little knew the accumulated villany of which this noxious
creature is capable. Every fly that we saw here a week ago has now got a
large and healthy family of some hundreds, and a darkness which may be
felt broods over the river and its shores. And now that the cold weather
has set in, he begins to perceive that his short but effectual career of
annoyance draws near to its close, and the whole face of nature is
covered with torpid crawling things, that make one turn in disgust from
everything one touches. May his end come soon, for we love him not.
[Illustration: A Norwegian Fire-place]
We are very comfortable here at night sitting round the noble fireplace
in the corner of the room. These corner fireplaces are found in every
sæter and homestead in this part of the country, and are very
picturesque and cheery, vastly superior to the modern stove, that may be
seen standing up gaunt and inhospitable in every house in more civilised
regions. Most of them have the chimney supported by a crooked piece of
birch wood coming down from the roof and hooked underneath the
projecting angle of stonework, but in some there is instead an upright
iron bar from the hearth. Generally speaking, they are placed quite
against the wall in the corner, but we have seen several with a space
behind large enough to walk through, and one which even had a bed
behind it.
_September 6._--The sea on Gjendin has organised something remarkably
like a ground swell under the influence of the continuous storm, and its
fury is more magnificent than ever; no boat here would have a chance of
living in it.
Esau spent the morning packing his bird-skins in a wooden box for their
journey home, as we hardly expect to get much more in the way of
specimens. Then we had another afternoon at ryper, not quite so lucky as
yesterday, but still satisfactory. When we returned we found that
Andreas had brought from Besse Sæter a vast pile of literature which had
been accumulating at the Vaage post office for the last month. After
dinner, when we were all buried in our respective letters and papers,
occasionally reading out particularly interesting scraps of news,
Ragnild came in and informed us that a certain Norwegian, whom we may
call Mr. Fox, had come there to fish. This was a man who had done some
business for us here two years ago, and we had had a little
correspondence with him before coming out this year. Thinking we might
have given him some trouble, and not having any great liking for his
character, we naturally wished to be especially civil to him; so we
asked Ragnild to bring him in and stay to interpret for us.
Presently he entered the room, and after greeting us sat down and
refused to have anything to drink: this astonished us so much that it
completely drove our small stock of smaller talk out of our heads. The
commonplaces of polite conversation sound perfectly ridiculous when
gravely uttered to an interpreter for transmission to the proper
recipient, and so Ragnild seemed to think, for her translation always
sounded much shorter than our flowery sentences. We tried a variety of
feeble questions to which we already knew the answers, somewhat in the
following style:--
'We presume, Mr. Fox, that you like Norwegian cheese?'
'Does your brother also like Norwegian cheese?'
'Do you speak German?'
'No? but your brother, we believe, plays the Norwegian german-flute?'
'The friends of your sister's children are also our friends. They live
in England, but we believe they still like Norwegian cheese.'
'We like much the cheese of the country, and have never suffered
asphyxia from it.'
'We shall take a small quantity with us to England for the destruction
of rats;' and so forth.
Presently Esau, getting impatient, suggested in a loud voice that we
should 'ask him some questions out of Bennett's Phrase-book.' Then he
was covered with shame, as he feared that Ragnild would immediately
translate this to Mr. Fox; but fortunately she did not.
On reference later to the said Phrase-book we find that some very
appropriate and useful sentences may be gleaned from its fertile pages.
For instance, 'Who are you? What sort of weather is it to-day?' (these
two remarks are introductory, as it were, and to inspire confidence in
the person addressed). Then we come to the point: 'Will you lend me a
dollar? Be quick! Thank you, you are very kind.' Here the speaker would
turn to Ragnild and proceed thus: 'Put this in my carpet bag. Make haste
and bring me a light, open, four-wheeled phaeton carriage, drawn by one
horse.' Then to Mr. Fox, 'Good morning; I must go, but I shall return in
a month.' Then the speaker might wink at John and depart.
Now came the most awful pause that the history of the world in its
darkest moments can yet point to. We coughed and glared at each other,
and felt in our pockets as if we might find something to say there; and
then the Skipper had a brilliant idea, and said, 'Ask Mr. Fox how long
he intends to stay here.' But Ragnild at once replied, 'Only two days,'
without referring the question to him at all; so that remark was wasted,
and our embarrassment became worse than ever; for now not only had we to
invent subjects of conversation, but also to put them in such a form
that Ragnild should not be able to answer them without taking Mr. Fox
into her confidence. He all the time was most annoying, as he would do
literally nothing to keep up his end of the conversation, and replied to
our lengthiest and most brilliant efforts of exuberant verbosity by
monosyllables and inarticulate grunts.
At last, in desperation we presented him with a very nice new English
knife, for which he did not seem to care at all; and so we parted, both
sides feeling that the interview had been a failure.
The following note is extracted from one of the journals:--'The common
cheese of Great Britain is unknown in Norway, but in the roadside inn,
the smallest sæter or farmhouse, and the humble cottage dwelling, the
traveller can always obtain that excellent substitute, the goat's-milk
cheese of the country.' The colour of this excellent substitute is that
of Windsor soap; its consistency, leather; and its scent, decomposed
glue, which causes the natives to keep it under a glass shade. If you
eat it, your own dog will shun you; if you avoid it, you starve.
_September 7._--Esau always wakes up in the most boisterous spirits, and
as the partitions between the cabins are only made of thin boards full
of knot-holes, he can be heard all over the house the first thing in the
morning jeering at John, who sleeps next door, whistling, and crowing
like a baby in his cot: he continues these little games long after
breakfast-time, and though he is wide awake, will _not_ get up. All this
sounds very pleasant and cheery to talk about, but the Skipper, who
usually wakes in a temper the reverse of angelic, being influenced by an
unequal liver, wishes that these walls were twice as thick, and that
Esau was at Hong Kong.
Generally he tries little stratagems to induce Esau to get up, dressing
operations having a tendency to quiet him. Sometimes he enters the room
sniffing, and remarks, 'How deuced good the coffee smells roasting!' or
'We're going to have a tip-top fish for breakfast, but there's very
little of that pie left; enough for two of us p'raps' (this would mean
about eight pounds). Or he looks out of the window, and assuming an
attitude of intense surprise, hanging on to the frame like Irving in
'the Bells,' says, 'By George, Esau! there's a fellow just below looking
through a binocular that can give yours six lengths for mechanism.' If
all these expedients fail, he gives in, and dresses quickly with his
ears full of tow, leaving Esau aloft, and gets into the eating-room,
where the floor and ceiling between put a soft pedal on operatic
selections.
Esau says all this ill-feeling arises because the Skipper cannot whistle
Berlioz's 'Faust,' and is jealous.
Andreas and Ragnild are making preparations for their departure, which
takes place to-morrow; then Gjendesheim will be closed, the door
fastened, the windows shuttered, and the place will be left to itself
until next June. Very soon now Gjendin will be covered with ice and
snow: most of the good folks in the sæters have already gone to the
valleys for the winter.
We thought it would be more convenient for them if we took our departure
to-day, so packed our goods on the pony and said 'Farvel' to
Gjendesheim. Our last view of Gjendin, as we turned to look from the top
of the pass, was just as it appeared when we first saw it--black,
gloomy, and forbidding, with the cold north wind sweeping in a hurricane
over its waters, and heavy rain-clouds hanging over its mountain
shoulders, making a scene as awfully lonely and desolate as it is
possible to depict.
[Illustration: Jens and his Pony on their way over Bes Fjeld]
After the pony had gone with the last load we suddenly discovered that
the tent had been forgotten: it and its appurtenances make a package
weighing about 70 lbs. Now we _all_ hate carrying 70 lbs., but
fortunately at this crisis a _deus ex machinâ_ appeared in the person of
a stranger. At first we thought it must be one of our own men returning
for something after changing his coat, but on his nearer approach we
found that he was the rest of the population of the district, whom we
had not seen before, coming down in a body. This was Hans Kleven, who
has the reputation of being the best hunter in the country. He is a
small sturdy man, with amazing shoulders and a pleasant, good-humoured
face, and a most gorgeous check shooting-coat, of a pattern so enormous
that there are only three squares on the whole of his back, which is a
pretty broad one. This coat was given to him years ago, apparently about
1840, by an English sportsman, and he is as proud of it as ever Joseph
was of his celebrated garment. To him we committed our tent, which he
carried over to Besse Sæter, three miles away, without turning a hair.
We rewarded him with a shilling, and from his profuse gratitude we
conjecture that he only expected fourpence for the job.
Our first step at Besse Sæter was, as usual, to demand food; and John
asked for a dish called 'Tuk melk,' which had been recommended to him as
very Norwegian and very good. A woman at once went to fetch it from the
other sæter, a quarter of a mile away, and presently brought it in a
large wooden milk-tub about the size and shape of a sitz bath. How that
poor woman carried it we know not; it occupied half the table, and was
so scrupulously clean that we feared to touch it with our sordid hands.
John and Esau at last attacked it in the orthodox manner, which is to
sit on opposite sides of the table, and to draw a line across the
surface of the milk with a spoon before beginning, and then to 'eat
fair' up to that line. It would have amused some of our friends at home
if they could have seen these two young men of fashion at the moment
when both of them were engaged with abnormally large wooden spoons,
silently ladling down 'Tuk melk' out of a tub as big as a drawing-room
table.
They reported that it was on the whole good; something like curds, but
with a sourer taste, and it was much improved by sugar; but though they
ate a large quantity of it, being men of great courage and
determination, they could not persuade the Skipper to risk his life in
experiments with untried articles of food. He, however, gave utterance
to the following refined expression of his sentiments:--'I wouldn't
touch that beastliness if you gave me fourteen pence a spoonful to
swallow it.' No one offered the reward.
Out shooting on the other side of the lake, we put up a snipe just at
evening, which went down again close to us. This species of game is not
common up here, although we find his cousin the woodcock fairly often;
consequently we were much excited, and advanced upon the foe with
insidious step, and bloodthirsty weapons almost at our shoulders in
order to slay him as soon as he should rise. All went well, and at the
right moment up he got, and promptly did the Skipper fire and miss him;
while Esau's gun for the first time on record missed fire, and left him
using language that ought to have ignited any cartridge. So the happy
bird zigzagged off into the dim shades of sheltering night, and we went
on our way full of thought and sorrow.
Arriving again at the sæter after narrowly escaping shipwreck in the
passage, we found that Jens had come to meet us, and as he will enter
our service from this date, we shall no longer need Ivar, and paid him
off, arranging, however, that he is to come to help us home when we
leave Rus Vand.
We like Ivar very much now, though we did not by any means dote upon him
at first. Ivar is a good fellow, but an idiot, perfectly willing to do
anything in the world, but not understanding _how_ to do anything. His
budding reputation was blasted in our eyes the first time that we left
camp and entrusted everything to his care: we were away for three days,
and in that time he consumed nearly four pounds of our best butter; on
our return we decided that he was a knave, but we have since learnt that
it was only his natural impulsiveness that led him to commit such an
outrage; and now that we have found how eager he is to oblige us in
everything, we like his strange nature better than Öla's awful laziness
of character. He came into the room this morning to stand for his
portrait, and the easy, graceful attitude that he assumed for the
occasion was inimitable. His waistcoat and boots were perhaps his
greatest charm, but his open countenance and genial smile (six inches in
diameter) played no small part in causing him to become beloved by us as
he was.
Ivar always laughed like a nigger on a racecourse, and whenever we took
him out ryper-shooting he was exactly like an unbroken retriever: if a
bird was killed, he _would_ rush in to gather it, and we had to shout,
'Back, Ivar, back! Lie down! Down charge!' to prevent him disturbing any
birds that might have chanced to remain during the yells and convulsions
of Christy Minstrel mirth into which the death of a ryper always sent
him. His behaviour usually made us laugh so much that we attributed any
missing to the unsteadiness caused by constant hilarity. We gave him our
spade as a parting present, and dismissed him with our blessing.