Your pulses are quickened to gipsy pitch; you are ready to make
love and war, to heal and slay, to wander to the world’s end, to
be outlawed and hunted down, to dare and do any thing for the
sake of the sweet, untramelled life of the tent, the bright blue
sky, the mountain air, the free savagedom, the joyous dance, the
passionate friendship, the fiery love.
MATILDA BETHAM EDWARDS’S _Through Spain_.
THE WASPS’ NEST--LOM--KIND FRIENDS--SONGS OF BJÖRNSEN--THE
PRŒSTEN’S MINISTRATION--THE REPULSED STUDENT--BEAUTIFUL
VALLEY--THE TWO ARTISTS--THE BŒVER ELVEN--RÖDSHEIM--THE
RAVINE--THE LOST STARDY--ASCENT OF GALDHÖPIGGEN--THE HIGHEST
MOUNTAIN IN NORWAY--THE NIGHT ASCENT--THE DOME OF SNOW--THE
SUNRISE.
Zachariah, the Mephistopheles of our party, desiring probably to afford
more varied incident for our “impressions de voyage” declared war upon a
wasps’ nest.
Although warned, but too late, he took a hasty shot with a stone at the
nest, artistically constructed, on a bough, hanging on the road side.
What business had we to quarrel with these paper makers, who knew their
art long before man had emerged from his pre-historic condition? why
needlessly destroy their curious homestead? but the stone had gone upon
its mission.
Zachariah soon became acquainted with the “lex talionis” of the invaded
colony; strange to say, the wasps directed their attack only on
himself. He was singled out as the aggressor, and a sharp sudden sting,
under one eye, entirely ruined his personal appearance for the morning.
We arrived at Lom about mid-day. Ole went in advance to see the Prœsten
Halling. As we approached a large open expanse of meadow land, open to
the junction of roads, from Skeaker, Vaage and Rödsheim we saw the
church, which picturesquely stands near the lake.[87] Near it, the
charming manse of the Prœsten Halling. A large wooden structure near the
road, we were told, had been used formerly as a granary to store the
grain, paid as tithe, to the clergyman of the parish. This payment is
now, we believe, made in money. As we looked upon the church and
parsonage, surrounded as they were, by the meadow park, with the broad
silver lake near, the rising mountains on all sides, and the clear blue
sky above, our senses seemed entranced with the passing beauty of the
scene; it was one of those chance glimpses of perfect nature, which cast
their anchor deep in memory, and leave a lasting impression of bygone
days.
That the Prœsten was in harmony with so much that was pleasing, we did
not doubt, and when he came to meet us accompanied by our guide, he
warmly welcomed our gipsy party; he would have us enter beneath his
roof, and accept his kindly hospitality; we did not value the proffered
hospitality the less, though we did not accept it. Ours was a life of
travel in the fresh air of heaven; air that myriads are dying for every
day. It is as essential to man as water is to fish. The delightful shade
of some trees near the road, a short distance from the parsonage,
tempted us; there we halted, and there, reluctantly, the Prœsten allowed
us to remain. After strolling with him for a short time along the
pleasant walks of his grounds, he left us to take our mid-day meal; we
enjoyed it in our own gipsy fashion; our meal consisted of fried bacon,
fladbröd and tea. Ole obtained our letters and newspapers from the Loms
Postaabneri. We had telegraphed our correspondence from Kongsberg; the
packet was large, and cost us three dollars and forty-four skillings.
Our newspapers which had been sent to Bergen, we left to their fate; the
“Illustrated London News” seemed to please the Prœsten Halling, and his
family. When our mid-day meal was concluded, Prœsten Halling, Mrs.
Halling, three young ladies, her sisters, a brother, and two gentlemen
staying with Mr. Halling, came to see us; They were much interested with
our gipsies; Zachariah’s swollen face had unfortunately marred his
beauty, Noah had unfortunately taken some offence at his sister
Esmeralda. Noah’s temper was to blame; occasionally an interchange of
Romany and English terms flashed between them.
We had wished our gipsies to appear to the best advantage. One with a
swollen eye and two at cross purposes had a jarring effect on our
nervous system, nevertheless, our visitors seemed interested with them.
We trust they made allowance for the wildness of their nature. We can
assure them, Zachariah had not always a swollen eye, and Noah was rarely
out of temper; even our hobbenengree had her moments of sudden
sunshine, delightful after previous storms, and the fitful passions of
her gipsy soul. All was harmony after we had commenced our
music--guitar, violin, and tambourine. We sang for our visitors the
gipsy song, and gave the Prœsten Halling a copy of it, as a parting
souvenir; the ladies, and some of the gentlemen, sang several Norwegian
melodies for us. They had good voices; “over the high fjeld” was a
beautiful song, and seemed appropriate to our parting. Some charming
Norwegian songs are written by Björnsen. Very pleasantly passed our
mid-day halt, with the Prœsten Halling and his family. Wide spread, we
afterwards found, was the fame of the Prœsten Halling[88] for his kindly
heart, his true christian feeling, and invariable hospitality to
travellers. Speaking English perfectly, we were told he had officially,
much and active ministration, among the English navvies employed, during
the construction of the Railway from Christiania.
Our donkeys were again loaded. The Puru Rawnee had a chafed back, but by
careful folding of our tent-cover, we prevented pressure upon it; sore
backs are always difficult to prevent in crossing a mountainous country.
We had reached Lom about twelve o’clock, and left about four. Our
gipsies were ready; we bade all farewell, perhaps never to meet again,
but not the less to be held in our pleasing remembrance.
The evening was very warm; indeed, as we slowly followed the road up the
“Bœverdal Elv,” we found it exceedingly hot. It is about nine miles
distance from Lom to Rödsheim; comfortable homesteads met our view as
we passed along. The usual excitement to see our donkeys was here and
there met with. It is said there are four hundred farms in the parish of
Lom, and every tenth man had lately emigrated, but no inconvenience had
been felt by the diminution of population.
Not far along the road, we met a young Norwegian student _en route_
towards Lom. Ole conversed with him. He was dressed in light tourist
costume, and high lace-up boots, and had attempted alone the ascent of
the Galdhöpiggen. The student had failed, and was returning with all the
weight of disappointed ambition upon his mind. Ole had predicted the
failure. Well we remembered our similar fate in former years, when we
ourselves, and several fellow-tourists, headed by the celebrated
mountaineer, poor Hudson, returned from an attempted ascent of Mont
Blanc. Tired, wayworn, torn, and jaded, and, worse, disappointed, we
reached the picturesque Hotel Mont Joli at Saint Gervais only to try
again with better success.
Ole, anxious to reach Rödsheim as soon as possible, went on in advance.
We saw him again, when he had reached his father’s farm near the road
side. Ole and his father were just going to start for Rödsheim in a
stolkjœrre. His services were unnecessary as guide to Rödsheim. It was
useless for Ole to remain with us. They wished us much to go with them
in the stolkjœrre, and leave our gipsies and donkeys to follow after.
Ole’s father was a fine, hale, strong old man, and his wife a comely
stout woman. We preferred to remain with our gipsies and baggage,
feeling a sort of independence of all kinds of lifts. Possessing good
health and spirits, we felt no fatigue from our daily exertion.
Exposure to the fresh air seemed to give us an enduring strength quite
beyond the requirement of stimulant or the necessity for artificial
locomotion.
It was now determined to push on after Ole Rödsheim as rapidly as we
could. Zachariah was mounted on the top of the baggage on the Pure Rye.
Noah took the lead on foot in care of the Puru Rawnee and Puro Rye.
Esmeralda, who, was tired, we mounted on the baggage of her Merle, the
Tarno Rye, and brought up the rear. The road was tolerably level and we
proceeded along at a sharp pace. Every turn of the valley brought us in
view of fresh scenes to admire.
Passing a wicket on the road side, we caught sight of two young artists
in the garden of a small cottage. Their canvas was upon an easel. One
was then painting a scene from nature. They were apparently taking a
bend of the valley down which the glacier-coloured waters of Bœver
Elv[89] dashed its wild course. The maisonette was so homely, the point
of View so picturesque, we could not help pausing. Quickly calling a
halt we exchanged salutations with them. They were both very good
looking young fellows. The one, we were informed afterwards, was
considered the handsomest man in Norway. He was certainly exceedingly
handsome, though a trifle too effeminate for a man; yet there was much
to admire in the form and expression of the countenance. They accepted
an offer of some aquavit to drink “gamle norge.” Our flask was brought
into requisition. Somehow the brandy seemed rather muddy, both in flask
and bottle newly opened. Noah accounted for it by saying that when the
old man at Veblungsnœs sold it to him, the brandy was nearly out of the
cask, which had to be lifted up, before he could fill the bottles. A
passing suspicion crossed our mind that it may have been caused by the
addition of water, but still we did not like to suspect any one of our
party. Be that as it may, the artists both quaffed off a small tumbler
each without even winking their eyes. With a hasty farewell, we
continued our road, pushing on at a rapid pace.
As evening fell, and we gradually lost the heat of the sun, there was a
refreshing coolness in Bœverdalen. On our right the lofty heights of the
Lomseggen Fjeld, extending from Lom, rose above us; on our left the
Bœver Elv was ever near the road,--at times wide, broad, and broken into
many rough and shallow rapids. Our party was not out of place in such
picturesque scenes. The two leading merles, loaded with various baggage,
tent raniers, and camp appliances, including Zachariah, the
Mephistopheles of our party, mounted on one, were followed by the tall,
lank, muscular form of Noah. He combined the appearance of the smuggler,
brigand, the chamois hunter, and gipsy. Noah was the beau ideal of the
“genus homo,” as we see them depicted according to the conventional
rules of art. At a short distance behind, as a sort of rear guard,
Esmeralda was mounted on the miscellaneous baggage of the Tarno Rye,
with ourselves near. How lively and happy the hobbenengree seemed!
Bronzed by exposure to the hot Norwegian suns, hardened by rough spare
diet and continued travel through all weathers, ours was indeed a life
of health, freedom, and pleasure.
About eight o’clock we came in sight of Rödsheim. It is a substantial
wooden house, with capacious out-buildings, near an excellent mountain
road. The house stands at the foot of a rocky hill at the head of an
ascent where the valley becomes narrow. On the other side the road,
close to the house, the Bœver Elv dashes through a deep cleft of narrow
gorge in the rocks. There is no fishing in the glacier water of the
river. The house at Rödsheim was very clean and well ventilated. Ole
well knew the English penchant, especially of the mountain tourist. The
comfortable guest chamber of his house had always its open window, with
pleasant View down the valley.
Ole Rödsheim[90] was ready to receive us. He pointed out a convenient
camping ground a short distance beyond the house, just below the road,
close upon the edge of the precipice of the ravine. It suited us
exactly. Ole knew it. He had not been camping with us some days without
knowing the foibles of our heart.
“There’s the spot for the Herre.”
Ole was quite right; and the roaring waters of Bœverdal Elv in the
stillness of that night hushed our party to sleep. Our tents were
quickly pitched by our gipsies. The pige from the house brought us
firewood. We had eggs, bread and butter, and tea, for our evening’s
meal. Ole Rödsheim brought out a bottle of his home-brewed beer. We had
one glass each, for we shared everything with our party. It was
excellent beer. Then we went to the house, and made acquaintance with
Mrs. Rödsheim, a quiet, pale, industrious helpmate. She appeared an
excellent housewife. After a chat with Ole, we returned to our camp. Our
music enlivened the quiet valley before we retired to rest.
Mephistopheles was in sad tribulation. May it be recorded, that the
evening before, the hat from Christy’s of London, purchased in Norway,
which had cost us one dollar, was blown into the ravine, and had
disappeared. It was an occurrence which could not long be concealed. The
hat must be produced some time, or accounted for. We certainly were
annoyed when he confessed the fact. Something was said about the owner
going to Christiania without one. Ultimately the Rye relented. Ole
Rödsheim lent Zachariah a cloth military-looking cap, which was
afterwards purchased second-hand for less than half the price of the hat
lost.
Sunday morning at Rödsheim. We were up in good time. How we enjoyed our
breakfast in the rocks at the edge of the deep ravine. The day was very
hot. It was the last day of July. Most of the peasants would be actively
engaged next month in their harvests. Ole came occasionally to see that
we had everything we wished. Once Ole said, in a melancholy tone, he
wished to speak with me aside. We went with him away from the tents, and
he placed in our hands a blacked-edged letter, saying it might contain
bad news, and we might wish to be alone when we received it.
Fortunately, the emblem of mourning referred to past events already
known. Yet we did not think the less of Ole’s kind thought. Some
peasants came to see our camp and the donkeys. All was quietude and
peace at Rödsheim.
One of the points to be attained in our line of travel, was the ascent
of the highest mountain in Norway, the Galdhöpiggen, or pike of Galdhö.
Who Galdhö was we could not ascertain.[91] Although we were unsuccessful
in obtaining the origin of the name, we determined, if possible, to make
the ascent of this mountain.
It was arranged that we should start at nine o’clock at night, Ole,
ourself, and Noah, for the expedition. Esmeralda and Zachariah to be
left in care of the tents.
At mid-day we had ham, eggs, and potatoes for dinner, close to our camp.
On the edge of the ravine stood a small log-hut used as a blacksmith’s
shop. Since our kettle prop had been lost, we had substituted two Alpine
stocks with a wire between them for boiling our water for tea. It was a
clumsy substitute, which necessity imposed upon us. Ole now arranged
that a blacksmith should make us another prop before we left Rödsheim.
At nine o’clock Ole was ready, and ourself and Noah were each armed with
an Alpine stock. Each took a small supply of bread and goat’s cheese.
Making our adieu to Esmeralda and Zachariah, we were soon _en route_ up
the valley.
We had not proceeded far when a farm servant from Rödsheim overtook us,
and said that two English gentlemen required Ole’s presence as guide.
They were certainly unfortunate; the expedition had commenced, and Ole
sent back a message of excuse.
Ole soon afterwards left the main road. Entering a thick wood to our
left in Indian file, we ascended a steep winding foot path, until an
open plateau was reached. Very shortly afterwards we reached the
“Rödberg Sœter.” Ole knocked at the door, and obtained a rope from the
woman. It was exactly half-past ten o’clock. Walking over some
undulating turf ground we soon afterwards commenced another steep
ascent. The slope was covered with loose stones, scattered on all sides.
It was quite dusk, and deliciously cool after the heat of the day. At
half-past eleven Ole called a halt, and we had a slight repast of bread
and cheese and cold tea.
Again we were _en route_, still walking in Indian file, and soon reached
another long narrow plateau. Over loose rocks, in the dim light, we
picked our way as we could for some distance. The Dögurdsmaals Kampen, a
steep sharp mountain, rose above us. We at length skirted the glacier
lake of the Gjuvbrœen. In this lake we were told by Ole, the Herre
Watson, the tourist of tourists, once bathed. Ole evidently considered
our countryman one of the best mountaineers he had seen. It must have
been a cold plunge; but what is there that an Englishman will not
undertake? If we had passed it at mid-day the example may have been
followed.
The long reach of stones, whose angular points made it necessary to keep
a sharp look-out at every step, were at last exchanged for a gentle
slope of tolerably hard level snow. It was a great relief, after the
rough pathway of stones just left. A false step on such an irregular
causeway involves a broken leg, a grazed shin, or at least a sprained
ankle.
At last we reached the edge of a broad but at this point tolerably level
glacier, across which we could in the dimness of the night see the dome
of the Galdhöpiggen rising beyond. Its summit, a dome of hard frozen
snow, rests against a precipice of rocks, above which it rises some
feet. From the small nearly flat space, which forms the head of the
Galdhöpiggen, the frozen snow immediately slopes off at an angle of from
40 to 50 degrees, and joins the glaciers in the far distance below. It
was a wild and desolate scene, as we sat on some broken rocks. Another
precipice rose to our right, as if to test supremacy with the
Galdhöpiggen in this region of eternal snow. After some slight
refreshment we roped ourselves together. No great difficulty presented
itself as we crossed the glacier to the rocks which formed an arrête to
the snow dome of the Galdhöpiggen. Once or twice Noah sank up to his
middle, but the crevasses were narrow and easily crossed. Very easy work
to one who had crossed the Glacier des Bossons.
Then commenced the ascent of the steep arrête of rocks, but even these
presented no great difficulty to a fair average mountaineer. Then came a
rise of frozen snow at the junction of the dome with the rocks. There
was an awkward crevasse to cross. Ole carefully tested the snow, and it
was soon overcome. We were now on the frozen slope of the snow dome. On
this, as we had no nails in our thick fishing-boots, with the utmost
difficulty we could keep our legs. With the aid of our Alpine stock the
summit was at length reached at five minutes past four o’clock. This is
the highest mountain in Norway, 8300 feet above sea level. When we were
on the rocks of the arrête we saw a glorious sunrise over the _Lauvhöen_
Fjeld. The morning light enabled us to see a vast wilderness of dark
rocky peaks rising from a setting of eternal snow. No sign of human
habitation, no signs of animal life--silence reigned around us.
Reindeer’s bones were lying on the rocks near the dome.