Along the Coast of Norway. -- Education at the Far North. -- An
Interesting Character. -- A Botanical Enthusiast. -- Remarkable
Mountain Tunnel. -- A Hard Climb. -- The Seven Sisters. -- Young
England. -- An Amateur Photographer. -- Horseman's Island. --
Ancient Town of Bodoee. -- Arctic Flowers. -- The Famous
Maelstroem. -- Illusions! -- The Wonderful Lofoden Islands. --
Grand and Unique Scenery. -- Glaciers. -- Nature's Architecture.
-- Mysterious Effects. -- Attraction for Artists.
The coast of Norway from the most southerly part which is known as
the Naze, to the North Cape which is its extreme point in that
direction, is bordered by innumerable rocky islands, and also by deep
fjords winding inland from ten to fifty miles each among masses of
rock forming lofty, perpendicular walls, often towering a thousand
feet and more in height. The traveller is reminded by the aspect of
these fjords of the striking scenery of the Saguenay River in North
America. The turbulent waves of the North Atlantic and Arctic Oceans
hurled against the coast by the western gales for many thousands of
years, have steadily worn into the land, and thus formed these
remarkable fjords; or perhaps after they were begun by volcanic
action, the wearing of the water has gradually brought about their
present condition. The coast of Sweden, on the other hand, is formed
by the Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Bothnia, both of which are inland
waters; and though there are many islands on the Swedish coast, there
are no fjords worthy of mention. Notwithstanding that the extreme
length of Norway from north to south is hardly twelve hundred miles,
yet so numerous and extensive are these peculiar arms of the sea that
its coast-line is estimated to measure over three thousand
miles,--which gives to these deep indentures of the west coast a
length of eighteen hundred miles. The entire peninsula known under
the general name of Scandinavia is composed of Norway, Sweden, and a
small portion of the Russian possessions in the northeast. This
division of country supports a population of little less than seven
millions, and contains in round numbers three hundred thousand square
miles. To geologists it is especially interesting to know that the
mountains of this section of the globe are almost wholly of primitive
rocks, presenting as near as possible the same form as when they were
first solidified. They are rarely overlaid with more recent
formations, but stand forth as tangible evidence of the great
antiquity of this region.
In her course northward the steamer winds in and out among the many
islands and fjords, touching occasionally at small settlements on the
main-land to discharge light freight, and to land or take on board an
occasional passenger. The few persons who came from the little
clusters of houses, which are not sufficient in number to be called a
village, were found to be of more than ordinary intelligence, neat
and clean in their appearance; and, much to our surprise, they often
spoke English. We were told that even in these sparsely inhabited
regions, education is provided for by what is termed the "ambulatory
system;" that is, one able teacher instructs the youth of three or
four neighboring districts, accommodating the convenience of all by
suitable variations of time and place in holding school-sessions.
Among the passengers who came on board our steamer at Trondhjem as we
were starting for the north was one whose personal peculiarities had
attracted some attention. He was a man of fifty years or more, with
iron-gray hair, and a tall, slim figure. He wore a long gray surtout,
a flat, flabby cloth cap, with a broad, straight leather visor,
beneath which were shaggy grizzly brows, so heavy indeed as to throw
his eyes into shadow, deep as a well. His wrinkled face, long and
narrow, was supplemented by a double chin as full of folds as his
cap. This man glanced about him occasionally, with large blue eyes of
such marked intelligence as to indicate the possession of plenty of
brains. Fastened across his shoulder there depended upon his left
side a long round tin box painted green. He seemed quite wrapped up
in his own thought, and addressed no one. He had just seated himself
in one corner of the deck, apparently for a nap, when we rounded to
at a landing, on the second day of the voyage northward. Among those
who came on board from this place were two or three peasant women
destined for the next station, with whom was a young girl who held in
her hand a tiny bouquet of simple cut flowers. The drowsy figure of
the old German, for that was his nationality, suddenly became
animated, and he was seen hastening towards the girl, and extending a
piece of silver, which was quickly exchanged for the cluster of
flowers. A moment later he had assumed his former position, and with
his tin box open before him was arranging his floral prize. His
profession was no longer a mystery. He was a botanist,--a botanist
_con amore_. Meeting him upon this ground, he was found to be a most
delightful talker and a devout disciple of Linnaeus. He was so
eloquent upon the properties of flowers,--their disposition, their
genealogy, their connubial ties, the fragrance of their breath, their
length of life,--that he might have been talking of humanity rather
than of the denizens of Flora's kingdom. Every bit of fern was
treasured; every leaf, every pale blossom possessed feeling,
consciousness of care, interesting habits, and spoke a familiar
language to him. It was delightful to hear him discuss their
properties with such enthusiasm, so tenderly and lovingly. It is to
the faithful researches of such simple and sincere devotees of
science that we are indebted for our knowledge of Nature's daintiest
secrets. Among the flowers brought on board by the young girl was a
deep blue orchis. "See," said the narrow-chested, thin-voiced old
man, "this is the _Orchis maculata_, the Virgin's and Devil's hand,
with one prong of the root dark and crooked, while the other is
straight and white. Behold! I place it in this basin of water; the
white hand floats upon the surface, the black hand sinks!" The old
man gazed in silence for a moment; then added: "It is the emblem of
good triumphing over evil."
How gentle and benignant the nature that dwelt within the rough
exterior of this enthusiast!
The course of the northern-bound steamers takes them by the
celebrated island of Torghatten, which is pierced entirely through by
a remarkable natural tunnel. The opening on the precipitous side
occurs about half way up between the sea-level and the apex. The
island rises gradually from the water at first, but soon becomes
abrupt, finishing at a height of about one thousand feet. Here the
steamer comes to anchor for a few hours, to enable tourists to land
and examine the tunnel. If the sea happens to be rough, however, this
is not possible. A steep and rather trying climb over the spongy moss
and rubble stones, where there is no definite path, brings one at
last to the mouth of the opening, which is so regular in form that it
would almost seem to have been constructed for some useful purpose by
human hands, rather than by any freak of Nature. The floor of the
tunnel is quite uneven and rough, being strewn with rocks that have
fallen from the roof, owing to atmospheric disintegrating influences
operating for many ages. It very naturally recalled the Grotto of
Posilippo at Naples, surmounted by Virgil's tomb, though the Italian
tunnel is artificial, while Torghatten is unmistakably natural. This
tunnel is sixty feet high at the mouth, and between five and six
hundred feet long, maintaining throughout about the same size.
Through the large opening one gets a very curious, half-telescopic
view of the sea and the many islands lying in range. Such a place
would be quite incomplete as a unique resort, and particularly in
Scandinavia, without its special legend attached; but the one we
heard upon the spot was far too extravagant and foolish to repeat in
these pages. This mountain island is said to contain caves which
extend some distance beneath the surrounding waters, but which are
nevertheless perfectly dry. A story is told of one of these being the
bridal chamber of a famous Viking in the olden time, and which is
said to be only accessible by diving beneath the surface of the sea.
Soon after leaving the perforated insular mountain, the "Seven
Sisters" come into view. These are elevations about three thousand
feet high, located upon the island of Alsten, which forms the west
side of Vefsenfjord. They are of remarkable similarity in form, with
deep valleys and dark gorges separating them. From the group there
rolled back across the waters a whole broadside of echoes in response
to the single boom of our forecastle gun fired for the purpose. These
"Sisters" have stood here, in their craggy and solitary grandeur,
unexplored and untrodden for perhaps twice ten thousand years. The
peaks are far too perpendicular for human access. The course in this
region is along the shore of what is called Nordland, extending
longitudinally about forty miles, the interior of which has not yet
been explored.
We had already passed latitude 66 deg. north, when the captain of the
steamer casually remarked to a group of passengers that we must be on
the look-out, for we should soon cross the line of the Arctic Circle.
Young England was instantly on the alert, with his sticking eye-glass
and fidgety manner, wanting to know what the "line" looked like.
Intelligent glances were exchanged between a couple of gentlemen
passengers, one of whom stepped into the captain's office and brought
out a ship's spy-glass. After carefully sweeping the horizon with the
instrument directed to the northwest, the gentleman thought that he
discovered indications of the "line" already. In this supposition he
was confirmed by his companion, after he also had taken a careful
survey through the glass. Young England stood by, nervously jerking
his eye-glass out of place and putting it back again, and anxious to
get a peep; so he was kindly accommodated. He shouted almost
immediately that he could see the "line," and indulged in rather
boisterous demonstrations of satisfaction at the sight. Presently the
gentleman who had borrowed the glass received it again; but before
returning it to the captain's office he removed a small silk thread
which had been extended across the object-glass. Young England in his
simplicity never suspected the trick played upon his ignorance. The
amateur photographer ("photographic fiend," as he was named by the
passengers) was also on board with his portable machine, aiming it at
everybody and everything. He too was an English cockney of the
shallowest kind; but as regarded any pictorial results from the
innocent machine which he set up all over the ship,--now on the
bridge, now at the taffrail, and again on the forecastle,--there were
none. Not a "negative" was produced during our eight days' voyage
whereby one might judge whether the whole affair was a "blind" or
otherwise. This youth was one degree less verdant than he with the
sticking eye-glass, but yet he had an opinion to offer upon every
topic of conversation, and was, as he believed, quite posted in all
national and political matters at home and abroad. If he lives for a
few years he will doubtless have less faith in his own wisdom, and
will exhibit less conceit to others.
There is but one day in the year when the phenomenon of the midnight
sun can be seen at the imaginary line which we designate as the
Arctic Circle, a point twenty-three degrees and twenty-eight
minutes from the North Pole; but by sailing some three hundred
miles farther northward to the North Cape, the projecting point of
the extreme north of Norway, it may be observed under favorable
circumstances,--that is, when not obscured by clouds,--for over two
months dating from the middle of May. Soon after passing the Arctic
Circle, fourteen hundred and eight geographical miles from the North
Pole, a singularly formed island is observed, called by the natives
Hestmandoe, or Horseman's Island,--a rocky and mountainous formation
of two thousand feet in height, more or less. On approaching the
island from the west, by a liberal aid from the imagination one can
discern the colossal figure of a horseman wrapped in his cloak and
mounted on a charger. It forms a well-known landmark to all
navigating the coast. The summit, it is believed, has never been
reached by human feet.
The fishing village or town of Bodoee, on the main-land, is one of the
regular stopping places for the steamers that ply on the coast. It
contains some fifteen hundred inhabitants, all toilers of the sea,
and is the chief town of Nordland. Some few of the houses are large
and comfortable, being of modern construction, forming a strong
contrast to the low turf-roofed log-cabins which are to be seen in
such close proximity to them. There is an ancient stone church here
which the traveller should find time to visit,--a quaint building,
with a few antique paintings upon the walls and an atmosphere of past
ages permeating its dim interior. Only the sacred rust of this old
temple makes it worthy of attention. In and about the humble
settlement lovely wild-flowers were observed in profusion,--an
agreeable surprise, for we had hardly expected to find these "smiles
of God's goodness" so far north, within the Arctic Circle. Among them
were the butterfly-orchis and Alpine lady's-mantle, besides a goodly
crop of primroses, all the more attractive because of the seemingly
unpropitious region where they were blooming. Here our earnest but
simple old friend the botanist revelled in his specialty, indeed
lost himself as it seemed, for when we sailed he was nowhere to be
seen, and was surely left behind. "Did he take his baggage with him?"
we asked of an officer of the ship. "No, he had none," was the reply.
And so we had parted from the absorbed gentle old scientist, without
a word of farewell. Louis Philippe lived for a brief period at Bodoee
when travelling as a refugee under the name of Mueller, and visitors
are shown the room which he occupied. Under favorable circumstances
the midnight sun is visible here for a period of about four weeks
each season, and many persons tarry at Bodoee to obtain the desired
view without the trouble of travelling farther northward. By
ascending the lofty hill called Lobsaas, one gets here also a grand
though distant view of the remarkable Lofoden Islands.
After leaving Bodoee the course of the steamers lies directly across
the Vestfjord to the islands just referred to, whose jagged outlines
have been compared to the teeth which line a shark's mouth. They lie
so close together, particularly on the side by which we approached
them, that no opening was visible in their long undulating
mountain-chain until the vessel came close upon them and entered a
narrow winding passage among rocks and cliffs which formed an
entrance channel to the archipelago. In crossing the open sea which
lies between the main-land and the islands rough weather is often
encountered, but once within the shelter of the group, the waters
become calm and mirror-like in smoothness. The passage through the
myriad isles and from one to another, now rounding sharp points and
now making a complete angle in the course, renders it necessary to
"slow down" the steamer, so that she glides silently over the immense
depths of dark waters as if propelled by some strange mysterious
power below her hull. The Lofodens, owing to the clearness of the
atmosphere as seen from Bodoee, appear to be about fifteen or twenty
miles away on the edge of the horizon, but the real distance is
nearly or quite fifty. The play of light and shade is here so
different from that of lower latitudes that the atmosphere seems at
times to be almost telescopic, and the most experienced traveller
finds himself often deceived in judging of distances.
A little to the westward of the steamer's course in coming hither
from the main-land lies the famous vortex known as the Maelstroem, the
theme of many a romance and wild conjecture which lives in the memory
of every schoolboy. At certain stages of the wind and tide a fierce
eddy is formed here, which is perhaps somewhat dangerous for very
small boats to cross, but the presumed risk to vessels of the size of
common coasting-craft under proper management is an error. At some
stages of the tide it is difficult even to detect the exact spot
which at other times is so disturbed. Thus we find that another fact
of our credulous youth turns out to be a fable, with a very thin
substratum of fact for its foundation. The tragedies recorded in
connection with the Venetian Bridge of Sighs are proven to be mostly
gross anachronisms; the episode of Tell and the apple was a Swiss
fabrication; and now we know that neither ships nor whales were ever
drawn into the Norwegian Maelstroem to instant destruction. There are
several other similar rapids in and about these pinnacled islands,
identical in their cause, though the one referred to is the most
restless and formidable.
On close examination the Lofodens were found to consist of a maze of
irregular mountain-peaks and precipices, often between two and three
thousand feet in height, the passage between them being very
tortuous, winding amid straits interspersed with hundreds of small
rocky islets which were the home of large flocks of sea-birds. "It
seemed," as was expressively remarked by a lady passenger, "like
sailing through Switzerland." Dwarf-trees, small patches of green
grass and moss grew near the water's edge, and carpeted here and
there a few acres of level soil; but the high ridges were bleak and
bare rock, covered in spots with never-melting snow and ice. Most of
the coast of Norway is composed of metamorphic rock; but these
islands are of granite, and for marvellous peaks and oddly-pointed
shapes, deep, far-reaching gulches and canyons, are unequalled
elsewhere. It seemed to us marvellous that a steamer could be safely
navigated through such narrow passages and among such myriads of
sunken rocks. These elevations from beneath the sea varied from mere
turtle-backs, as the sailors called them, just visible above the
water, to mountains with sky-kissing peaks. For a vessel to run upon
one of the low hummocks would be simply destruction, the water
alongside being rarely less than two or three hundred fathoms in
depth. Fortunately the sea is mostly quite smooth within the shelter
of the archipelago, otherwise steam-vessels would rarely enter it.
The compass is brought but little into use. The pilots distinguish
rocks and promontories by their peculiar physiognomy, and they steer
from point to point with remarkable accuracy, arriving and departing
from given stations with the variation of but a few minutes from the
time laid down upon their schedules. Each steamer running upon the
coast carries two pilots, independent of the other officers of the
ship, one of whom is always at the wheel when the vessel is under
way. They are chosen for their responsible character and their
knowledge of the route, and they very justly command high wages. We
stopped briefly at Henningsvaer, the centre of the Lofoden cod-fishery
establishments. It is a small town situated at the base of the
Vaagekelle Mountain, an elevation between three and four thousand
feet high. The place smells rank to heaven of dried fish and
cod-liver oil, the combined stench of which articles, with that of
decaying refuse lying everywhere, was truly overpowering. The hardy
fishermen work nearly all winter at their rough occupation, braving
the tempestuous Northern ocean in frail undecked boats, which to an
inexperienced eye seem utterly unfit for such exposed service. The
harvest-time to the cod-fishers here is from January to the middle
of April. Casualties are of course frequent, but we were told that
they are not remarkably so. Winter fishing on the banks of
Newfoundland is believed to be the annual cause of more fatalities
than are experienced among the Lofoden fishermen. Sometimes this
region is visited by terrible hurricanes, as was the case in 1848, on
which occasion five hundred fishermen were swept into eternity in one
hour. Their boats are built of Norway spruce or pine, and are very
light, scarcely more seaworthy than a Swampscott dory. Each has a
single, portable mast which carries one square sail. The crew of a
boat generally consists of six men. These live when on shore in
little log-huts, each containing a score or more of bunks ranged
along the sides one above another. The men come hither, as has been
intimated, from all parts of the North, and return home at the close
of the fishing season.
It should be made clear to the reader's mind that these matchless
islands off the northwest coast of Norway consist of two
divisions,--the Lofoden and Vesteraalen isles. The Vestfjord
separates the former from the main-land and the Ofotenfjord; and a
prolongation of the Vestfjord separates the latter from Norway
proper. These two groups are separated from each other by the
Raftsund. All the islands on the west of this boundary belong to the
Lofoden, and those on the east and north to the Vesteraalen group.
The total length of all these islands is about a hundred and thirty
miles, and the area is computed at fifteen hundred and sixty square
miles. These estimates, we were informed, had lately been very nearly
corroborated by actual government survey. The population of the
islands will not vary much from twenty thousand. The entire
occupation of the people is fishing, curing the fish, and shipping
them southward. Some of the shrewdest persons engaged in this
business accumulate moderate fortunes in a few years, when they
naturally seek some more genial home upon the main-land. The large
islands contain rivers and lakes of considerable size, but the growth
of trees in this high latitude is sparse, and when found they are
universally dwarfed. There is, however, as the product of the brief
summer season, an abundance of fresh green vegetation, which is
fostered by the humidity of the atmosphere. Still the prevailing
aspect is that of towering, jagged rocks. Though the winters are
long, they are comparatively mild, so much so that the salt water
does not freeze in or about the group at any time of the year. As to
the scenery, the Lofodens must be admitted to surpass in true
sublimity and grandeur anything of their nature to be found in
southern Europe. There is ample evidence showing that in long past
ages these islands were much more extensive than at present, and that
they were once covered with abundant vegetation. But violent
convulsions in the mean time must have rent them asunder, submerging
some entirely, and elevating others into their present irregular
shapes.
In pursuing her course towards the North Cape, the steamer for a
distance of twenty miles and more glides through a strait remarkable
for its picturesqueness and unique beauty, which is called the
Raftsund. Here the shore is studded by the tiny red cabins of the
fishermen, surrounded by green low-growing foliage, the earth-covered
roofs of the huts often spread with purple heather-bloom, mingled
about the eaves with moss of intensely verdant hue. The high slopes
of the hills are covered with Alpine moss, and the upper cliffs with
snow, whose yielding tears, persuaded by the warm sun, feed
opalescent cascades; while below and all about the ship are the deep
dark waters of the Polar Sea. Neither the majestic Alps, the glowing
Pyrenees, nor the commanding Apennines ever impressed us like these
wild, wrinkled, rock-bound mountains in their virgin mantles of
frost. The sensation when gazing in wonder upon the far-away
Himalayas, the loftiest range on the earth, was perhaps more
overpowering; but the nearness to these abrupt cliffs, volcanic
islands, mountains, and glaciers in boreal regions made it seem more
like Wonderland. The traveller looks heavenward from the deck of the
steamer to see the apex of the steep walls, stern, massive, and
immovable, which line the fjords, lost in the blue sky, or wreathed
in gauzy mantles of mist-clouds, as he may have looked upward from
the deep, green valley of the Yosemite at the lofty crowns of Mount
Starr King, El Capitan, or Sentinel Dome. On again approaching the
main-land the varying panorama is similarly impressive, though
differing in kind. It will be remembered that the coast of Norway
extends three hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle, projecting
itself boldly into the Polar Sea, and that two hundred miles and more
of this distance is north of the Lofoden Island group. Now and then
reaches of country are passed affording striking and beautiful
landscape effects, where valleys open towards the sea, affording
views sometimes capped by glaciers high up towards the overhanging
sky, where they form immense level fields of dazzling ice embracing
hundreds of square miles. The enjoyment of a trip along the coast is
largely dependent upon the condition of the weather, which is
frequently very disagreeable. In this respect the author was greatly
favored. The absence of fog and mist was remarkable, while the water
most of the time was as smooth as a pleasure pond. With a heavy,
rolling sea and stormy weather, the trip northward from Bodoee, and
especially among the Lofodens, would be anything but enjoyable.
Sometimes fancy led us to gaze lazily over the bulwarks into the
mirroring sea for long distances, where mountains, gorges, foaming
torrents, and sheer precipices were even more sharply depicted than
when gazing directly at them. A feeling of loneliness is sure to
creep over the solitary traveller at such times, a longing for some
congenial companion with whom to share all this glowing experience.
"Joy was born a twin." Fulness of appreciation and delight can be
reached only by being shared.
Amid such scenes as we have described rises the enormous Svartisen
glacier, its ice and snow defying the power of the sun. This glacier
is many miles in length and nearly as wide as it is long, covering a
plateau four thousand feet above the level of the sea. The dimensions
given the author upon the spot were so mammoth that he hesitates to
record them; but it is by far the most extensive one he has ever
seen. Sulitelma, the highest mountain in Lapland, six thousand feet
above the sea, crowned by a shroud of eternal snow, comes into view,
though it is nearly fifty miles inland. The snow-level about this
latitude of 69 deg. north is five hundred feet above that of the sea,
below which, wherever the earth can find a foothold on the rocks, all
is delightfully green,--a tender delicate green, such as marks the
early spring foliage of New England, or the leaves of the young
locust. The heat of the brief summer sun is intense, and insect life
thrives marvellously in common with the more welcome vegetation.
Birch and willow trees seem best adapted to withstand the rigor of
these regions, and they thrive in the warm season with a vitality and
beauty of effect which is heightened by the ever-present contrast.
Every hour of the voyage seemed burdened with novelty, and ceaseless
vigilance possessed every faculty. A transparent haze at mid-day or
midnight lay like a golden veil over land and sea; objects even at a
short distance presented a shadowy and an unreal aspect. The rough
and barren islands which we passed in our midnight course often
exhibited one side glorified with gorgeous roseate hues, while
casting sombre and mysterious shadows behind them, which produced a
strangely weird effect, half of delight, half of awe, while the long
superb trail of sunlight crept towards us from the horizon.
The attractions of Norway to the artist are many, and in a great
measure they are unique, especially in the immediate vicinity of the
west coast. No two of the many abrupt elevations resemble each other,
all are erratic; some like Alpine cathedrals seemingly rear their
fretted spires far heavenward, where they echo the hoarse anthems
played by the winters' storms. One would think that Nature in a
wayward mood had tried her hand sportively at architecture,
sculpture, and castle-building,--constructing now a high monumental
column or a mounted warrior, and now a Gothic fane amid, regions
strange, lonely, and savage. There are grand mountains and glaciers
in Switzerland, but they do not rise directly out of the ocean as
they do here in Scandinavia; and as to the scenery afforded by the
innumerable fjords winding inland, amid forests, cliffs, and
impetuous waterfalls, nowhere else can these be seen save on this
remarkable coast. Like rivers, and yet so unlike them in width,
depth, and placidity, with their broad mouths guarded by clustering
islands, one can find nothing in Nature more grand, solemn, and
impressive than a Norwegian fjord. Now and again the shores are lined
for brief distances by the greenest of green pastures, dotted with
little red houses and groups of domestic animals, forming bits of
verdant foreground backed by dark gorges. Down precipitous cliffs
leap cascades, which are fed by ice-fields hidden in the lofty
mountains so close at hand. These are not merely pretty spouts like
many a little Swiss device, but grand, plunging, restless torrents,
conveying heavy volumes of foaming water. An artist's eye would revel
in the twilight glory of carmine, orange, and indigo which floods the
atmosphere and the sea amid such scenery as we have faintly
depicted.