“There was a gipsy’s tent, close beside me, and a party of about
ten of this wandering tribe were seated around a wood fire,
which habit seemed to make them approach closely to, whether it
was cold or hot weather.”
Séñor JUAN DE VEGA, the Spanish Minstrel of 1828-9.[55]
NOAH UNWELL--THE TINE--NEW SCENES--THE LEPER--HASTY
DEPARTURE--LESJEVŒRKS VAND--WELL MET--AGREEABLE
WANDERERS--SPECIALTY OF TRAVEL--DELICIOUS TROUT--LAKE
SCENERY--NORWEGIAN POSTMAN--NIGHT VISITORS--MORE
TOURISTS--MOLMEN CHURCH.
Immediately after our music had ceased, Noah was taken ill with severe
rheumatism resulting from getting wet. Our services as the “Cushty
Drabengro.” (Gip., “good doctor”) of the party were in requisition. He
was sent to lie down in the tents, and we rubbed his back and body well
with brandy, giving him a stiff glass of brandy-and-water to drink. All
had retired to rest, but ourself. Hearing voices near our donkeys, we
went up and found a number of peasants and peasant girls near them. We
had an idea that they had been teasing them. Taking the peasants down to
our tents they looked round our camp, and when we wished them good-night
they left. It rained heavily as we went to sleep.
Much rain had fallen in the night. We looked out about seven o’clock on
the morning of 13th of July; the rain had ceased, but misty clouds
gathered thickly on the mountains. A fire was lighted, and Noah was
better, and we made him rub some of our bruise mixture on his knee.
Noah promised never to go into the water again. As we were getting our
breakfast, the farmer’s son passed with a wooden bottle of milk and a
wooden “Tine.” This word is pronounced “Teena.” It is a small wooden
oblong box with a slide lid used for carrying provisions. A box of this
kind is in common use all over Norway. Some of them are curiously
ornamented, according to the fancy of the possessor. For Frokost we had
fried trout, fladbröd and butter, and tea. Two women came to our camp;
one were men’s Wellington boots, and they were both knitting.
Whilst Noah was packing up, he said he dreamed we lived in a beautiful
wooden house, and were going to the East Indies. The gipsies dreamt very
often of their Romany Rye--sometimes Noah, sometimes Esmeralda, and
sometimes Zachariah. It was impossible to leave such a beautiful
camping-ground without regret. Whilst we were getting our things
together three young tourists, carrying their knapsacks, came to our
camp; they were very intelligent, agreeable companions. One of them said
his father lived at Veblungsnœs. They left before the gipsies had
loaded our donkeys. The weather now cleared up, and we were soon _en
route_. As we afterwards passed “Lesje Jernvœrk” (ironworks), we saw the
three tourists at the station. Mr. Bennett, in his handbook, says it is
a tolerable inn kept by civil people. Our road lay through a pleasing
diversity of lake, mountain, and pine forest. The tourists soon
afterwards overtook us; one knew something of French, and we were able
to converse more at ease. As we passed a house on the road-side, we
observed our silent visitor in black surtout coat, and German silver
watch chain, standing outside immobile with all his schoolboys. He was a
schoolmaster. They seemed as a guard just turned out, and not a sound
was heard as we passed. The peasants evinced the usual curiosity. One
old woman who was knitting exhibited great signs of pleasure. One of our
tourists said she was in an “extasy.” We had the donkeys, much to Noah’s
chagrin, stopped for her inspection. The usual exclamation “Peen giœre!”
was marked with much emphasis. Our tourists had gone on. The old lady
followed along the road. As we went down a short descent to a bridge, we
noticed a beautiful level camping-ground along the brook-side, sheltered
by a few bushes, at a convenient distance from the road.
The camping-ground was all we could desire; saying, “We will camp here
for to-night,” the word was given to halt. The donkeys were driven down
to the brook-side. The old lady, who had been joined by three boys,
still walked after us. The gipsies were so busy unloading that they did
not pay much attention to our visitors.
As we suddenly looked round we were astonished at the appearance of one
boy about sixteen; his face was completely eaten up with a kind of
leprosy (spedalskhed) frightful to see. The boy wore a cross-belt, and
carried a knife. He withdrew behind some bushes close by, perhaps to
screen himself from observation, when he saw the countenances of ourself
and gipsies--we had only had one glance--it was quite enough. Esmeralda
said she should never forget it. It was quickly decided that it would be
impossible to eat anything in comfort whilst the unfortunate boy was
near our camp. One donkey was already nearly unpacked, but we did not
see why we should be troubled with the vision of the afflicted leper
whilst we could move to a more favoured spot. Ordering the donkeys to be
reloaded, which my gipsies obeyed with wonderful alacrity, we were soon
again _en route_.
The old lady was talking to a man driving a cart, apparently full of
school children. He had pulled up at the bridge. They were evidently
discussing a variety of matters relating to us. Without looking behind,
we left the poor boy and his companions in complete possession of our
intended camp.
At a stream of water we overtook our three tourists, lying down. Two had
their shoes and stockings off, and were bathing their feet. Telling them
we should push on till two o’clock, we left them.
Following the main road in sight of the “Lesje Vœrks Vand,” a lake seven
English miles long, and 2,050 feet above the sea-level, we reached a
stream flowing into the lake. Descending to the bridge, we crossed the
stream which flowed down a sheltered gully. There was a convenient
camping-ground on the brook-side below the bridge and near to the lake.
A few bushes between our camp and the lake made the spot more sheltered.
We had just unloaded when our three tourists came up. Before they left
we presented each with one of our gipsy songs. Zachariah in a very short
time added a beautiful pink trout from the lake to our broiled ham,
fladbröd and tea, for dinner. Up to this time Noah had caught
thirty-seven trout, and Zachariah thirty-four. Taking Noah with us after
dinner, we went through a wild tract of moorland, thinly treed, along
the lake for about three English miles. After crossing some wild
streams, we came in sight of the wooden church and the station of
“Molmen,” which stands a short distance from the road. Noah went down to
the station, while we lounged by the side of a stream near the road, and
wrote up our notes.
“Molmen in the distance,” we mentally observed. Out came pencil and
book. There was a charm in one’s existence as we seated ourself on the
turf which formed the bank of the clear pure stream. What mingled hues
of delicious colouring caught the eye as we gazed on the various
grasses, wild flowers and heath which formed the nature painting of the
scene about us. The mind had not long been engaged in quiet
contemplation, when we observed a gentleman in a straw hat walking along
the road drawing after him a light kind of truck. Underneath the
framework, on a suspended netting, we noticed his knapsack, _sac de
nuit_, and other articles _du voyage_ for the use of his family. The
gentleman and his light truck was followed by his family. Three
good-looking grown-up daughters, and their friend or _governante_; two
young boys in long Alpine boots, holland trousers and check shirts, and
a fine large black dog followed after. It was a case of nomad meet
nomad, wanderer meet wanderer, each following his own idea, and each, I
believe, thoroughly enjoying his own will and fancy. How could we be
mistaken, there was a joyous expression of countenance. One rapid glance
was sufficient. They were happy in their way of travel. Far happier than
very many we met in their carrioles or stolkjœrrer as we journeyed up
the “Gudbransdalen.” An interest quickly gathered round the travellers
as they passed, which riveted our attention. They were gone, we were
left, yet we seemed to regret that we had not somehow made their
acquaintance. Pencil in hand we still lingered by the stream when we saw
the tall form of our gipsy Noah coming along the road. One mark’s worth
of fladbröd and ten eggs for 18 skillings had been purchased. Noah said
the gentleman who had just passed had seen him at the station, and
finding who we were, had asked about our camp and wished to see it. Noah
told him we were staying in sight of the road near to the lake. As we
soon after returned towards our camp, the gentleman and his family were
resting near a house on the road-side. Very shortly after we had reached
our tents, we heard their voices in song, as they walked along the road.
We listened with pleasure to some pretty Norwegian air which came to us
on the wind. Very soon they reached the bridge. We both saluted as we
went towards them from the brook-side. We were two wanderers happily
met. Each following his own speciality of idea. Each apparently
successful in result. Our baggage was heaped on the ground as they came
a short distance from the road to our camp. Our visitors conversed in
Norsk, French, and English. He asked if it was not very cold and damp on
the ground. They saw our donkeys, and our various things, including the
guitar and tambourines. The gentleman was a Mr. B., of good position in
Norway, who had landed from the steamer at Veblungsnœs, with his light
truck and family, and had travelled through Romsdalen when we met. At
parting we presented one of the young ladies with our gipsy song, and
with mutual good wishes we watched them ascend from the bridge of our
retired gully, and disappear over the top of the abrupt ascent.
The time was half-past five; the small amount of success we had had
fishing during our travels was not calculated to raise our reputation
with the gipsies as an expert angler. Up to this time we had not caught
a fish. Noah had caught fish; Zachariah had caught fish. Esmeralda had
cooked them, and we had only eaten them; something must be done.
Metteramengry[56] (Gip., “tea”) was postponed. Noah was told off to
accompany us. The fishing-rods and tackle were ready, and we were soon
on the light gravelly shore of the charming lake. It was all that could
be desired for fishing, yet we did not for some short time get a rise.
Ah! what! a fine trout heavily fighting; no landing-net, but he is
safely landed, just one foot long. The light evening breeze caused a
ripple on the surface of the lake, another rise and another trout
hooked. Our tackle was light, and just as we had him at the shore he
broke the fly. It was but the glance of an instant as we saw him steady
himself in the water. At once we were in the lake, and threw him on the
shore with both hands. The trout was caught, and equalled the first in
size.
How lovely the gleams of evening sun upon the lake. The romantic islets,
and the rising mountains from the opposite shore. Again we have another
trout hooked; this time it is a very fine one. Steadily and calmly we
handled a difficult adversary, and landed our trout without a
landing-net on the lake shore. The trout measured one foot four inches.
Noah, who had caught nothing, was astonished, and soon after we returned
to our camp at seven o’clock. Esmeralda and Zachariah had our tea ready,
and the largest trout was soon in the frying-pan. Pink as salmon the
trout eat with a delicious flavour, and was soon consumed with our
fladbröd.
After tea the postman pulled up at the bridge. We had seen him before,
and some men came up who appeared to have been surveying. Zachariah then
played his violin, and Esmeralda her tambourine, and Noah put up the
tents whilst we lounged on the turf, and the men gazed at us from the
road. When our tent was up we took Esmeralda’s tambourine, and she went
to arrange our things for the night. The peasants left when the music
ceased. It is not so easy to play the tambourine. Much suppleness of the
hand is required. The exercise is excellent for the arms and fingers.
The roulades and the burr of the jingles with the tips of the fingers
require practice. Noah gave us a lesson when our visitors were gone.
Then we had more peasants. One woman we imagined wished to know if we
wanted coffee, and did not seem to think we understood clearly the
luxury she proposed. She went to each in turn, and at last gave us up in
despair. The peasants who came to see us seemed hard driven for an
existence, their clothes were patched and mended, and their faces
expressed endurance and hard life. Noah, who was much better, had a
glass of brandy-and-water before retiring to sleep. After our party
were at rest for the night we heard the voices of women, and went out of
our tent. It rained hard; the women were at the top of the ascent by the
bridge, looking at our tents. One had an umbrella. The sound of talking
was very distinct for some time after we had gone to bed.
The night was wet, and the morning damp and drizzly. We were up between
seven and eight o’clock, and went fishing in the lake before breakfast,
where we caught another trout a foot long. The breeze from the lake had
given us an excellent appetite when we returned, and we found Esmeralda
had cooked the two large trout of yesterday for breakfast with four
eggs. The reputation of the Romany Rye as a fisherman after catching
four feet four inches of trout from the lake in so short a time was
completely established in the minds of the gipsies. We had no means of
weighing our fish. The trout out of this lake are beautifully pink, and
delicious to eat.
Frokost was finished. Esmeralda was putting the things away. The morning
was now finer, and we perceived passing over the bridge two young
tourists, dressed in red shirts, with white trousers tucked into their
high boots, which laced up in front. These kind of boots, similar in
make to the style of the ladies’ Alpine boot, seem to be much patronised
in Norway by walking tourists. They appear to be excellent boots; but we
doubt whether they will stand heavy mountain work with the same comfort
to the wearer as our ordinary Alpine boot. During all our long and
continued walking through Norway in all weathers, the strong Alpine
boots made at Medwin’s, Regent Street, never gave us a single blister.
Each tourist carried his knapsack, and seeing our tents they sat down
on the road-side, on the top of the declivity by the bridge, to look at
our camp. When we went up to them, and asked them to come down to our
camp, we found them very nice fellows. One spoke English. The donkeys
were shown them, and the tents; and then we presented each with a copy
of our gipsy song. They seemed much pleased. Yet, in after years, if
they chance to meet with it among their _souvenirs de voyage_, they will
again remember the “Englishman and gipsies” camped by the little bridge
and wild stream near Molmen. After the tourists had continued on their
way towards the Gudbransdalen, some peasant men and women arrived. One
peasant woman seemed, as far as we could make out, to wish us to stay
longer to attend some _fête_. Probably they wished to engage our musical
services. We could not make out very distinctly what she did want. As we
struck our camp and packed up, they asked us to spille[57] a little; but
the weather was again cloudy and inclined for rain, and we at once left
for Molmen. There is a very pretty wooden church at Molmen. An old man
and several peasants were at the road-side near the turn to the station,
which is a short distance from the road. The old man advanced and said,
“Velkommen.” There was something touching in this honest and hearty and
kindly word to the nomad strangers.