“Commend me to gipsy life and hard living. Robust exercise,
out-door life, and pleasant companions are sure to beget good
dispositions, both of mind and body, and would create a stomach
under the very ribs of death, capable of digesting a bar of pig
iron.”
GEORGE S. PHILLIPS (January Searle).
THE DONTIND--ORMEIN--MOUNTAIN ROAD--OUR BIVOUAC--DELIGHTED
VISITOR--THE WATER ELF--EXCITED GIPSIES--TAGE EN STOL--NORWEGIAN
GIRLS--SUNDAY ON THE RAUMA--CARRIOLE TRAVELLING--COMING TO
GRIEF--“SPILLE” A LITTLE--ESMERALDA’S BIRTHDAY--THE NORWEGIAN
CLIMATE--THE SJIRIAGLNS--UNCOMFORTABLE BED--THE LARGE ANT.
It was a charming night. The Rauma foamed beneath and lulled us to
sleep. The snow-covered and singularly shaped “Dontind” towered in the
distance above the valley.
At seven o’clock the next morning we were up and had breakfast, tea,
fladbröd, and butter. Whilst the gipsies were loading, we went to the
log bridge, and viewed the picturesque fall of the Rauma, the “Sœndre
Slettefossen,” foaming through high and overhanging rocks. Returning
soon afterwards to our camp, we found Noah and Esmeralda in high
dudgeon. A gale at sea, a simoom, or even an earthquake, could only be
compared to it. The gist of Noah’s wrong was some real or fancied
neglect on the part of Esmeralda to pack one pocket properly. In
travelling our tent-cover, rugs, wardrobe, and a number of minor
articles, were packed into one pocket, which was placed on the puru
rawnee, and formed a pad for the other things she carried to rest upon.
To avoid injury to the animal’s back it was, therefore, very essential
that all hard substances should be placed in the corners of the pocket,
so that they should not bear upon the animal’s back. It was necessary to
use great care, especially during the long and difficult journey we had
before us. Pouring oil on the troubled waters of the boro panee (gip.,
sea), we started with the thermometer at 78° Fahrenheit. All soon
subsided into tranquillity and friendly feeling.
The sun now became very hot. Everywhere we were greeted with the same
excitement, and the donkeys were much admired; grass was at times given
them, and a friendly welcome to ourselves. Descending the beautiful road
on the right side of the narrow valley, with pleasant farms below us on
the slopes to the Rauma, we reached the post station of Ormein.
Beautifully situated as it is, this station would be excellent quarters,
and a comfortable resting place for the lover of nature, and the
fisherman. There was a general rush as we came up. The donkeys were
surrounded, and water and grass were brought for them. We went into the
station and purchased a large loaf of bread, some excellent crisp
fladbröd, a pound of good butter, and two kinds of Norwegian soap, for
one mark and twenty skillings. There was a bed in the kitchen, covered
with an animal’s skin. The fire was made on a raised hearth, the chimney
rising straight from it, but without contact with the sides of the room;
so that there is great economy of heat obtained. As you look from the
station to the “Alter Hö” on the other side the valley, the picturesque
vandfos, called Vermedalsfossen, dashes down the mountain side through
wild and moss-covered craigs to the Rauma. From this place the Dontind
or Storhœtten may be ascended. Leaving the kind and civil people of
Ormein about half-past twelve o’clock, we continued our journey on the
right bank of the Rauma. The road was still inclosed, and the immediate
banks of the Rauma were cultivated for hay, potatoes, and grain, which
seemed to thrive in sheltered situations. At length the mountains became
more steep, lofty, and rugged on either side the valley, which formed a
narrow flat through which the now level road ran. Coming to a gate we
entered a space of wild broken ground open to the Rauma, which was close
to the road. A very large mass of rock pitched on end, looking not
unlike the representations of the celebrated English rocking-stone in
Cornwall, stood not far from the gate, to the right of the road. The
open green sward was margined by thick and tangled brushwood, rising
immediately to the mountain precipices which overhung the valley. At a
short distance beyond, the lofty mural steeps of a snow-covered mountain
seemed to leave no possible outlet. Towering precipices of barren rock
rose almost at once from the banks green with foliage on the opposite
side to Rauma. Cascades fell in fleecy clouds of spray on either side
into the valley below; we were never tired of watching them. The banks
of the Rauma were low, the stream broad and broken in its course, and
had a thousand rippling eddies and swirls formed by its rough and uneven
bed. Birch-woods clothed the lower sides of the valley. One small log
cottage in the distance, close to the road and near the river, was the
only sign of human life we could see. The marks of bivouac fires under
the shelter of the large leaning rock showed that it was a favourite
halt for wayfarers.
The tents were pitched on a dry hillock near the low bushes beyond the
leaning rock. We had just said to the gipsies that we should shortly see
a peasant perched on a rock or on the top of a mountain, when two
peasants immediately appeared, and some brandy was handed to them. One
drank his glass with evident satisfaction, but the other pointed to his
chest, so his companion swallowed his share. They got some grass for the
donkeys, and afterwards left. A boy, who was travelling on foot with a
satchel and his coat hanging from it, came from the road; he wore long
boots much patched, home-spun brown trowsers, and waistcoat to match,
with large black buttons having a flower on them in relief. Poor fellow,
he was delighted with the animals, and for a considerable time sat
watching them, with a smile of intense satisfaction on his countenance.
The donkeys, we think, began to feel their social position in the animal
world much elevated. The boy at last went some distance up the steep
side of the mountain to get grass for them. He first ascertained from us
that they eat grass, which he might have seen had he noticed what they
were doing. Some weak brandy-and-water was offered to him, but he
declined to drink it. The musical box was set playing near him as he lay
on the grass, and he seemed delighted. Another boy came, and they seemed
very reluctant to tear themselves away from our donkeys, but at last
they left.
After a dinner of tea, ham, eggs, fladbröd, and butter, Noah washed his
shirt, and went fishing with Zachariah. Esmeralda went to the river to
wash some of our things, and we lounged by the tents. Several peasants
came to see the donkeys.
The scenery of the valley was charming, and the evening wore on till six
o’clock. First Zachariah returned dripping with wet, looking like a
water elf fresh from the Rauma. He produced a grayling more than a pound
weight, and some small trout, and related that he had nearly caught the
grayling, and was getting it to the bank when the fly came out of its
mouth. In an instant he plunged in, and threw it out. As he was changing
his wet things, which we at once insisted upon, some people passed along
the road who seemed much amused, and he had to play at hide-and-seek
round the large rock to conceal himself. We rubbed him over with brandy,
and he went fishing again.
Esmeralda, who had completed her washing, made tea, and whilst we were
finishing our meal, some carriers came up and halted near the rock. They
were informed they might have the use of our fire. Zachariah’s tea was
put by for him. The carriers were rough, hardy men, well-dressed, and
respectable in appearance. They had a light cart heavily laden. One of
them sat down, and producing a quantity of fladbröd from a tine
(pronounced teena) and a small wooden box of butter, commenced leisurely
consuming his provisions. Most of the peasants we met chew tobacco. We
often saw them produce a quid from their pockets, and, putting it in
their mouths, spit in all directions. Snuff-taking did not seem to be a
habit. The carriers said they had come from Veblungsnœs, and had halted
to rest their horses, and would not remain the night. They were
delighted with our tents, the interior fittings, and especially with the
donkeys.
It was after ten o’clock when Zachariah returned with his eyes sparkling
with fire, and seventeen small trout. The usual animated discussion
arose between the gipsies as to who had caught the most fish. “Now then,
Lucas,” Noah would vociferate, “I say you have only caught
twenty-three.” “What, only twenty-three?” Zachariah would answer, his
eyes wildly flashing with excitement, and shouting in a still higher
key, “No such thing, Noah.” “Now you count, Mr. Smith; here are
seventeen, and nine before, make twenty-six.”
What a picture study! wild valley, night-fall, two excited gipsies,
ourself arbitrator, trout lying near on the turf, hanging rock, camp
fire, gipsy girl standing by the tents, roar of river, dark gloom of
precipices above our camp. Can we forget the scene? About ten o’clock
several peasant girls arrived to lend more romance to the evening
incidents. One or two old men in red caps also arrived. The night was
beautiful; we sat down on the turf outside our tents, Zachariah
boshamengro (gip., violin-player), myself with castanets, and Esmeralda
with her tambourine. Bowing to the peasants, we said in our best
Norwegian, “Ver so artig tage en stole” (be so good as to take a seat),
pointing to the turf, upon which they sat down. After some music an
intelligent-looking young Norwegian played some Norwegian tunes on an
accordion he had brought. It was not in very good tone, but we were glad
to hear the Norwegian airs he played. Then we suggested a dance.
“Ah!” said Esmeralda, “look at that Rackly a salin at Noah.”
Noah at once got up, and whilst a young peasant was apparently trying to
prevail upon her to dance, Noah seized her round the waist; the ice was
broken, and they whirled round in a polka on the turf. Then the young
peasant took her for a partner; she was a nice-looking girl, but wanted
rather more agility of step. The Norwegian girls, as a rule, want the
elasticity of the southern belles. Norwegian girls have, however, a
quiet and kindly expression of all that is good and sweet in
disposition, and true-hearted feeling. What a contrast between them and
the dark-eyed olive-complexioned girl of the south. Equally in contrast
the warm-blooded animation of the southern girl, when roused by the
excitement of some strong and sudden emotion.
Only one Norwegian peasant girl joined in the evening green-sward waltz.
The accordion-player had his dance with the Rankny[60] Rackly (gip.,
pretty girl), as the gipsies called her. We played two more tunes for
them, and when we had finished we wished them good night, and they left.
The carriers then departed on their journey, and as we were going to bed
some more came up and halted for the night by the leaning stone. The
newly-arrived immediately went to the donkeys, and got some grass for
them. One man brought me something to drink, but we declined it with
thanks. To one we gave some tobacco for his pipe, and, retiring to our
tents, we were soon all asleep.
Another Sunday. We lay unusually late--nine o’clock. The morning was not
inviting, but very dull and cloudy. The rain fell fast, and we could
hear the roar of many waterfalls down the precipitous sides of the lofty
mountains above us. The sound of the river and the roar of waterfalls in
a wild valley were conducive to sleep. The gipsies soon had a fire
under the shelter of the leaning rock. The carriers were gone. Our
frokost consisted of tea, fried trout, bread, and potted tongue. After
breakfast Noah and Zachariah rode the donkeys, in search of bread and
butter. We stayed in our tent writing. Some peasants came, from time to
time, to look at our camp and donkeys.
As we were writing before dinner, we observed several carrioles coming
along the road _en route_ towards Ormein. The carriole is a light easy
carriage, admirably suited for a hilly land, and well adapted to the
small sure-footed ponies of the country. The only objection we are
disposed to make is the necessity of travelling along the road alone; if
with friends, you post from one station to another, at some distance
apart, without being able to hold much converse or communication. In
this instance the carrioles followed, one after the other, at some short
distance. As they passed our tents and the hanging stone, two of the
travellers, in knickerbockers and Scotch caps, appeared to be
Englishmen. The driver of one of the carrioles was dressed in black, and
appeared to be a Norwegian. The animal he drove was rather larger than a
pony, and apparently timid and shy. Suddenly the horse swerved, and the
driver checked him rather sharply. In a moment both shafts broke through
with a crash. The traveller got out; the horse remained still. We went
down to the broken carriole, and said it was unfortunate. The traveller
said something quietly in Norsk. Returning to the tents, Esmeralda gave
me some rope. In the meantime two or three of the other _voyageurs_ came
back from their carrioles, including one of the Englishmen in
knickerbockers. Three of the party seemed Norwegians. Very few words
were said--they were men of action. In less time than it has taken us to
write this, the broken carriole was fastened with the rope they brought
with them to a stolkjœrre. The other travellers went forward, and
getting into their carrioles, they were all soon out of sight. Noah and
Zachariah met them as they returned, in pouring rain, from a farm, where
they had purchased butter and excellent fladbröd. The people were very
kind, and gave them some milk, and the donkeys grass. They were both
very wet; but had no change. At two o’clock, a second tin of Australian
meat was opened. We had tea, Australian preserved meat, potatoes, and
fladbröd. The Australian meat was excellent, and a very good dinner we
all made. From our tents we could see very plainly all who travelled
along the road. During the afternoon a close carriage drawn by three
horses abreast pulled up, and a lady and children inside seemed much
interested. A gentleman outside said to them, the tent is waterproof.
They all stayed for a short time, looking from the road at the fragile
abri which sheltered us from the elements. Several peasants arrived, and
immediately went to see the donkeys. We gave two of the peasants some
tobacco, and one brought us a steel pen which we had dropped on the turf
near our camp. They wanted us to “spille” a little; but it was Sunday,
and we made it a day of rest. It rained heavily during the afternoon.
Thick mist clung to the summits of the steep and lofty mountains. Noah,
Esmeralda, and Zachariah all fell asleep till seven or eight o’clock.
A Sunday on the banks of the Rauma.--With how much pleasure we welcomed
a day ordained for the world’s especial rest. To our party it was
welcome after the wanderings of each preceding week. This Sunday was
also Esmeralda’s birthday, and we had wished her happiness.[61] One
could not help feeling regret as we reflected upon the condition of
these light-hearted wanderers. Esmeralda knew one prayer. We hoped on
our return to England to have her confirmed. With all their waywardness,
wilfulness, impulsiveness, irrepressible energy, and at times apathetic
listlessness, careless alike of to-day or to-morrow, there were still
some redeeming points of character, gleams of sunshine, which gave
uncertain glamour to their mystic fate.
We talked to some of the peasant visitors as well as we could. They sat
at our tent entrance. One young peasant came in with his pipe, and began
to smoke and spit in all directions. When he understood that no smoking
was allowed inside, he seemed annoyed at his own forgetfulness, and took
his seat again at the tent entrance.
There is a high principle of character about the Norwegian people, which
won our respect and esteem. It was not on one occasion, but many
occasions, that we had instances of their strict probity. Many are poor;
but they are honest. That conscious feeling of good intention, produces
the manly bearing, and national independence of spirit, with which the
Norwegian people are so largely imbued.
Many of the peasants wished particularly to know what the donkeys cost,
and were often loud in their exclamation, “peen giœre,” “peen giœre,” as
they walked round them.
Yesterday the temperature had been, at three o’clock, up to 90°
Fahrenheit; to-day, in the evening, it was only 68°; towards seven
o’clock it became cold. Between seven and eight o’clock we had tea of
fried grayling, fladbröd, and butter.
After tea, taking Noah and Zachariah with us, we went to see a beautiful
waterfall not very far along the valley, on the right of the road going
to Veblungsnœs. The spray from it was at times blown in thin mist across
the road. The steep, dark gray rocks of the “Sjiriaglns,” as we
understood the name (it was so written down for us, but we do not find
it marked in any of our maps), overhung the road. In the picturesque
gorge of this part of the valley three diminutive log houses stood at
some short distance apart from each other--the lowly shelter of the
peasants of this rugged glen. What must be the life of these poor
people! How hard their fare! but still they seemed contented. It may be
they have a larger share of happiness than we could imagine possible.
When we returned to the tents Zachariah tried to dry his trousers at a
fire at the hanging rock.[62] Noah and Zacharia had been very wet in
the morning. Noah had no change of trousers. Zachariah’s were soon
smoked and singed, as the legs were stretched out on two crossed sticks
fastened together, giving them the appearance of a mawkin to frighten
the birds. Ultimately, at bed-time, it was stuck up within the tents
near the water-cans and other things. As we were going to sleep, the
unfortunate mawkin fell down with a tremendous clatter amongst the cans.
Noah said it was a ghost. Zachariah pushed it at Noah. Noah sent it
spinning at Zachariah. “Now then, Abel!” “Here, Lucas!” Bang went the
mawkin into the pans again. We got up to lay the ghost, and ejected the
mawkin forcibly from the tent; but in doing so our leg accidentally
caught a can full of water, which emptied itself into Zachariah’s
blankets. Zachariah’s hilarity was at once damped. As we turned to go to
sleep, we heard him in loud lamentation about his uncomfortable state,
which he had partly originated.
It was very wet the next morning. We awoke at seven, and somehow fell
asleep again. The gipsies would sleep for ever. To our astonishment it
was ten o’clock. Our gipsies got frokost ready at eleven o’clock. The
damp mist gradually cleared from the mountains, and we had tea,
fladbröd, and butter for breakfast. Noah and Zachariah were dispatched
after breakfast to the bondegaard they had been to on the previous day,
and returned with a mark’s worth of fladbröd and butter. They were very
kind to them at the farm. We made a sketch of one of the peasants’
lonely log-houses of the valley, whilst Noah and Zachariah were fishing
for our commissariat. The narrow road winds close to the cottage beneath
the broken cliff. A snow plough lies on the other side the road. A
narrow inclosure separates the road from the Rauma.
What a wild solitary existence in the depth of winter’s snow must the
peasant owner of this cottage lead!
For dinner we had soup made of ham, peaflour, wild sorrel, rice,
Liebig’s essence, and the dried meat of Holiaker for the third time. We
tried to purchase some potatoes from the peasant living in the nearest
log cottage to our camp, but he had none ready to get up. The musketos
had not troubled us much since we had camped in the valley; but we had
met with two large black ants, or, as the gipsies call them, “creas,”
near our tent. They measured exactly three-quarters of an inch long.
After dinner we all went out fishing, whilst Esmeralda was left in
charge of the tents. Several peasants came to look at the donkeys during
the afternoon. Some travellers, hastily proceeding, stopped their
stolkjerrers and, looking wildly round, hastened to where the donkeys
were quietly grazing.