--Je ne connais pas de reine de ce nom-là.
--Même parmi les zingaris?
--C’est vrai, dit Fernand, j’oubliais les Bohémiens ont des rois.
--Et des reines, dit Ginesta.
_Le Saltéador_, par ALEXANDRE DUMAS.
“I do not know any queen of that name.” “Even among the gipsies?” “It is
true,” said Fernand, “I had forgotten the gipsies have kings.” “And
queens,” said Grinesta. P/
BOTANISING--ESMERALDA LOST--FOUND AGAIN--THE EAGLE--MOUNTAIN
DIFFICULTIES--MOUNTAIN BIVOUAC--ESMERALDA ILL--OLE’S BED--HOTEL
BILLS--ROUGH ROUTE--DONKEYS IN SNOW--THE PURU RAWNEE DOWN--THE
NY SŒTER--GIPSY DISCUSSION--THE ENGLISHMAN’S
HOUSE--HOSPITALITY--NORWEGIAN NAMES--FILLINGSHÖ--LARGE LAKE.
No one was at the sœter. After a middags-mad of tea, bacon, potatoes,
fladbröd and butter, and a rest, we continued our journey. After
pursuing our rough mountain track for a short time, we left the forest
of the steep mountain side, and commenced a toilsome ascent, in a warm
sun, across a wild rocky ravine, bare of trees, with a stream running
down it. It was not very deep. Our party slowly ascended one side of the
ravine towards the higher slopes of the mountain.
Gradually Esmeralda and ourself, who were collecting wild flowers, and
Alpine Flora, were left behind. Patches of snow rested here and there as
we ascended the sides of the “Hyrjon Fjeld.” The open mountain was
rocky and bare of vegetation. Gradually and slowly we ascended higher
and higher, when we suddenly missed our party. Track there was none
distinguishable. We ascended to some higher ridges; but could see
nothing of our guide, gipsies, or donkeys. A white handkerchief was
fastened to the end of our Alpenstock. We used the shrill cry of the
Australian signal and cooed loudly, but could hear no signal in return.
Not a vestige of human life was to be seen on the rugged mountain slopes
around us. It was quite clear that somehow we were lost. We had our
compass; but then, we had no idea as to the course across the mountains
Ole Rödsheim proposed to take.
Esmeralda did not appear much disconcerted by the incident. It was a
scene for the artist’s pencil, as the gipsy-girl ascended a hillock
strewn with loose grey rocks, covered with lichen. There she stood in
the evening sun, in a distant land across the sea, the blue feathers of
her small straw hat, waving in the light warm breeze. One could not help
feeling, that there was something more than common in this mystic race.
The lone figure of the gipsy-girl, whose home was nature, seemed the
queen of the wide expanse of barren “Fjeld” which she then surveyed. She
gave a whistle--that peculiar shrill whistle which is known among
themselves; a whistle, which, if not heard quite at Christiania,
certainly must have disturbed the wild rein-deer of the surrounding
fjelds from their slumbers.
We had almost come to the conclusion that we might have to spend the
night as best we could on the “Hyrjon Fjeld;” just then we heard a
return signal across some ravines beyond us to our right. Zachariah had
come back in search. They had turned sharply across the mountain slope
to the right, and were hidden from view by the intervening ravines. We
raced across the mountain side, and crossing some snow slopes of a
ravine, getting well ahead, we kept up a sharp and rapid fire of
snowballs at Esmeralda, prudently retreating immediately afterwards in
pursuit of our party.[81]
Noah and Ole Rödsheim were waiting. The donkeys were soon in motion.
“Ah!” said Noah, who had a great contempt for botanical research;
“That’s the way with Mr. Smith; he plucks a flower, and then calls
daughter to look at it. She says it’s very pretty; and there they stand
till nobody can tell what has become of them.”
Poor Noah! botany was not his forte. But all was sunshine again, and we
quietly pursued our rough uneven way.
Our path was now in the wild fjelds. Ole had his peculiar landmarks.
Sometimes it was a rock; sometimes a large stone placed edgeways or on
the top of another. For some time we kept along the side of a rugged
slope. A large black and white eagle soared above us with a hawk near
it. It gave life to the scene. Soon afterwards we came to an old
reingrav. This is a kind of pit or trap formed of loose stones, into
which the reindeer were sometimes driven by the hunters. A portion of a
reindeer’s horn was picked up by Noah and given to us.
Our way became more difficult. Each of the gipsies had to lead their
donkey. The ground was in places very treacherous, and we often came to
steep descents. The Puru Rawnee, who was loaded much more heavily than
the other two, got her hind legs into very deep ground near some rocks,
and was with difficulty extricated. At some distance beyond, in
descending a slope, the Puru Rawnee went right into a quicksand. We had
to unload her, and the ground being full of loose stones, we were afraid
she would cut her legs all to pieces. Noah was almost despairing. It was
his first experience of mountain work.
“What can we do, sir?” said he, in a melancholy tone, “in such rough
roads as these?”
Ole Rödsheim came back to us, and we carried most of the things some
distance down to firmer ground. Again loading, we started once more.
Zachariah was as lively as ever, with his donkey the Puro Rye, making
short cuts, and going now and then in advance, until warned to be
careful. We kept our course, until at last, crossing a streamlet, in
spite of every precaution, the Puru Rawnee sank right into another
quicksand, out of which we had much difficulty in extricating her. The
things had to be taken off. We proposed camping out where we were; for
the donkeys, especially the Puru Rawnee, were getting tired.
Ole Rödsheim suggested that there was better camping ground on the other
side a mountain ravine, a short distance beyond. We decided to make a
push for it, and soon after succeeded in reaching a wide rocky ravine.
The stream was broken into many rivulets. The torrent’s bed was strewn
with loose rocks; so that with our tired loaded animals, we crossed with
difficulty, and winding round the foot of a lofty knowle above the
ravine, we entered a shallow gully at the back of it. Ascending a gentle
slope to the flat summit of the knowle, we found an excellent camping
ground.
The conical hill was just adapted for our tents. To our right the waters
of many streams issued from the large snow-field we could see at a short
distance up the ravine. In front, at the foot of a long slope, and
crossing the end of the ravine, we could see the deep valley of the
Gröna, and above us the Skarvehöerne.
Our tents were soon pitched. Ole Rödsheim said he should camp out if we
could lend him a blanket. Our fire was lighted, and we shared with him
our tea, eggs, fladbröd, and butter. Esmeralda lay on the ground near
the camp-fire, and could not take anything. She was taken very unwell.
She wished to be left in peace, and to Noah, who asked her again, she
said “No!” so sharply that he quickly left her.
Ole Rödsheim went to make his bed under a rock on the side of the gully
below us. His little wallet, and small brass camp-kettle in it, were
left by our smouldering fire. Almost immediately after down came
torrents of rain. We had just time to seize our waterproof rug which we
slept on, and our guide’s wallet. Our first thought was for him. He had
just formed a sort of nest like a coffin with loose stones, the lower
part covered over by flat stones stuffed with loose heath and stunted
birch. In an instant he was stretched in his form. Throwing the
waterproof over him, we gave him his wallet underneath, and left him for
the night. There was one satisfaction, our guide would be perfectly dry
if not particularly warm in his mountain quarters.
Returning to the tents in pouring rain, we unfolded our waterproof, and
placed it over the tents, for the moisture was already making its way
through our blanket covering. Esmeralda had crawled in, and was lying in
a very helpless state. We had to move her, whilst we made her bed, and
packed her up comfortable for the night. She might be bilious from the
middags-mad of potatoes and bacon; but she said afterwards it was owing
to a sudden chill when she ate some snow, or from her wet feet. Giving
her some brandy the last thing, for she did not know how she felt, we
hoped our universal panacea would effect a cure.
Just before going to bed, the rain ceased; and going to Ole, a voice
under the waterproof said he was very comfortable. As we were going into
our tents, we could not help gazing on the magnificent sea of white mist
rising from the deep valley of the Gröna below.[82]
Soon after five o’clock we were up, and descending in a thick mist to
the ravine, we had a good wash. The donkeys were inspected, and their
legs carefully rubbed down with our bruise mixture, which was an
universal remedy for all cuts, bruises, aches, and pains. Ole was
apparently sleeping soundly, and we did not disturb him. Our gipsies got
up, and at six o’clock Ole was moving and none the worse for his rough
accommodation. He had, I believe, been up before to see if the donkeys
were safe. Everything was wet, and no fuel could be found but one or two
damp sticks from the ravine, and the roots of heath and dwarf birch. A
fire seemed hopeless, but our Russian lamp overcame all difficulty, and
we soon had a fire. Tea and fladbröd and butter formed our breakfast.
Whilst we were leading our donkeys, a pale, large-boned peasant
appeared. No one knew from whence, but he was able to quaff some of our
brandy. Esmeralda was again tolerably well. As Ole proceeded in advance,
and we were ascending the right slope of the ravine, he shouted--“Ah,
Mr. Smith! you have no hotel bills to settle, sir.” Ole seemed to have
taken a deep interest in our mode of life.
Our ascent up rocky slopes was laborious and heavy. The Digervarden
Fjeld on our left, and the Grönhöerne on our right. In the distance was
the Skarvdalseggen and the Digerkampen. With even pace we followed our
rough stony track, often near slopes of snow. All nature was as desolate
and sterile as could well be imagined. Although lightened of its load,
our Puru Rawnee had still a heavy weight. It was necessary to be very
careful as to boggy ground. At one place, notwithstanding all care, she
was effectually bogged in a deep quagmire, and with difficulty pulled
out. Crossing a sterile ridge of loose gray rocks, Ole suggested we
should try some large snow slopes as easier, which we did. Sometimes
where the snow was not deep we managed very well, and passed over slopes
of smooth frozen snow glittering in the sun.
Occasionally, as we again came to the rocks, the snow was deep, and we
found ourselves for a few feet plunging with our donkeys above our knees
in snow, and the loaded animals could scarcely get through. Again we
were picking our way over loose rocks, with occasional reaches of frozen
snow to cross. Our journey was toilsome. The upper portions of our route
were sterile and dreary, without that abrupt boldness of outline which
gives an interest to the scene. As we commenced our descent to the
valley of the Lora Elv, to reach the Ny Sœter, we had to descend a very
rough mountain track, difficult for our already tired donkeys. Still we
were anxious to reach the Ny Sœter before we called a halt. At last, at
an awkward place, the Puru Rawnee fell, and, in trying to recover
itself, again fell, with its head doubled under its body. The whole
weight of the packs slipped forward upon it. As it rolled over and lay
motionless, we thought our beautiful Puru Rawnee had broken its neck.
Quickly getting the baggage away, we let it lie quiet. After some short
time, it seemed to recover, and got up. Ole Rödsheim shouldered our
fishing rods and some heavy packs. Each took something to lighten
materially our gray donkey, and, walking quickly down past an old
reindeer grav,[83] we soon reached several small log-houses, near a
brawling snow stream, called the Lora Elv. We had arrived at the Ny
Sœter.[84]
Near the Ny Sœter there was a fenced paddock, and close to the Sœter a
sheltered flat of turf, where we unloaded and pitched our tents. Our
day’s journey had taken us from half-past nine o’clock till four
o’clock. The Lordalen, as it is called, is now almost bare of trees,
cold, and uninteresting in appearance even in the height of the summer
season. The rage for cutting down the forests in Norway will render the
country in some parts almost uninhabitable. In Wales the climate would
be warmer, and the mountains more picturesque, and the country far more
beautiful, if still clothed with its ancient forests; but Norway can
never be used for sheep pasture, as the hills of Wales, on account of
the climate; and the forests for shelter are still more necessary in the
northern clime.
Middagsmad consisted of tea, ham, potatoes, and pickled walnuts.
Ourself, Noah, and Zachariah went fishing; but, not meeting with any
sport, we soon returned with Noah. The peasants at the Sœter were very
kind, civil people. They were all women and children, one being a boy.
One very nice little girl hummed very prettily several Norwegian airs
for us. The wind blew cold in the evening. Zachariah came back to tea,
with two trout. For our aftensmad we had Zachariah’s two trout, with
fladbröd and butter from the Sœter. Esmeralda was very bilious; could
not finish her tea; said she could not touch tea again; was unwell. The
tea, she said, was not good, or the fladbröd. Her brother Noah said she
ate too fast, and so made herself unwell; for, said Noah, the tea is
excellent. Our gipsies would now and then wrangle and chaff, till a
stranger would suppose they were going to fight, as on this evening.
“Now, then, Lucas, don’t tell lies. Dawdy. There’s a state he puts
himself in, the ballo shero!”
“Dik the Bongy Mouee!” exclaimed another. “Sheep’s eyes! ah, you talk
backwards, like Amy, you do!”
Then Esmeralda would say satirically, “Well indeed, so manly! Doesn’t he
put himself over every one, Ambrose does.”
“What is daughter saying?” answers Noah. “Blankesko! look at Ezekiel.”
“Don’t say so,” shouted Zachariah.
“Ask Mr. Smith whether it is a lie. Oh, yes; Ambrose can do anything, he
can.”
It was, however, satisfactory to know that in a few minutes they did not
trouble themselves about their hastily expressed opinions of one
another.
Our gipsies were shortly afterwards singing, “Gamle Norge,” humming a
tune, or arranging our things with a merry laugh. Poor Mr. Rödsheim was
sorely puzzled at the variety of names they seemed to possess; but at
last Noah settled down into Mr. Ambrose, Esmeralda into Miss Daughter,
and Zachariah into Master Zâkēē.
In the evening, as the Sœter girl collected her cows, there was
something charming in her peculiar call. The high modulated pitch of the
voice--tones at once plaintive and persuasive, seemed to lure the
animals to her from the far distance. It was nine o’clock when we sang
our gipsy song for them, and then ourself, Noah, and Zachariah sat by
the fire playing the guitar, violin, and tambourine, as the young girls
danced on the level green till ten o’clock.
Ole Rödsheim slept in state that night--the Englishman’s house was
placed at his disposal. This log-house appeared to have been built for
sportsmen, and had been occupied by English gentlemen, in 1869, for
reindeer shooting; but on these fjelds, we were told, the reindeer were
now scarce, and the rype not plentiful.[85]
Ole was stirring in good time. Eggs for breakfast, with tea, fladbröd,
and butter, from the Sœter, for which we paid two marks, twelve
skillings. Ole Rödsheim, who at first was scarcely inclined to touch
tea, as he usually drank coffee, now seemed getting quite fond of it.
One English gentleman to whom he had been guide, seems to have been
equally fond of brandy. It was during forest travel in Australia that we
first acquired the habit of taking tea with each meal. It is the custom
in the Bush; and, as regards ourselves, we have found it sufficient
stimulus for every kind of exposure and hard mountain work.
At breakfast, the women of the Sœter brought us a present of some milk,
and Esmeralda a cake of best fladbröd, with clotted cream upon it--very
different hospitality from our host at Veblungsnœs. It was excellent;
but we think added slightly to the biliousness of Esmeralda. Then they
brought us more cake and clotted cream; but we were obliged to beg off
and get Ole Rödsheim to explain that we had really had quite sufficient.
The woman took us to see the Englishman’s house. It was very clean; but
bare of furniture. The Englishmen, who were evidently of lively
temperament, appear to have stayed there some time. As a change from
hard life in the fjelds, a Norwegian musician would occasionally come,
and the Sœter girls from the district assemble for a dance on the level
green. Their names were recorded inside the door of the Englishman’s
wooden house as follows:--
Oline Flikle
Anne Brenyord
Eli Loflinsmoe
Marit Norstigaard
Marit Thorhols
Marit Brenyörd
Yoraana Norstigaard
Mari Thorols
Mari Rudi
Marit Stavem
Anne Skarpol
Britt Skarpol.
Giving the woman’s son a present of some fishing flies, which he wanted,
and the woman a large tin water-can which we managed to spare, our party
left about ten o’clock. The first difficulty was a bridge, but after
much trouble we got the donkeys over, and ascended the mountain slope of
the valley through the few scattered birch trees which were left.
The track was not beset with much difficulty, and, ascending the high
lands of the Fillingshö Fjeld, we had the Skardstind and Kjölen Fjeldene
on our left, and the Jehanshö Fjeld on our right. We were now in the
Gudbransdalen. Traversing wild open moorlands, with scarcely any
vegetation, we halted about two o’clock by a small streamlet, on the
open mountain. A few sticks we had collected on our way enabled us to
make our fire. Tea and fladbröd and butter formed our meal. The fladbröd
was not of the best description. Zachariah called it bearskin, but after
all it was palatable to a mountaineer, and we bid him be satisfied he
did not fare worse; it was nearly all consumed at this meal, to
Zachariah’s intense satisfaction.
We were soon ready for a start. The animals had rested; the Puru Rawnee
did not seem much the worse for its fall the day before. It is not well
to keep them _en route_ more than four hours without a rest. The Puru
Rawnee’s back was slightly sore, and we adopted the plan of folding the
tent cover into two rolls, and placing one on each side its back, so as
to relieve all pressure. This plan answered exceedingly well.
Leaving about four o’clock, we passed near the Aur Vand, or, as it is
marked in one map, the Horgven Lake. It is a large lake, and Ole said it
was celebrated for its fish. As we continued our way down a very steep
mountain track, descending towards Skeaker, the Lomseggen came in view,
and snowy hills on our right. On one side we had the Bipsberg, and the
other the Loms Horungen.
Zachariah, who had ridden with the packs on his donkey along the
undulating plateaux, had now to dismount. Each had to go to the donkey’s
head; the track was precipitous on the side of a deep ravine.