“That the language of the Hindoos and that of the ancient
Egyptians may have sprung from the same root is very probable;
nay, it is almost certain. The language of the latter is a
_lost_ language, that of the gipsies a _found_ one, claimed by
and for no other people. All these things tend to confirm the
surmise (may I say the fact?), that the gipsies are the
long-dispersed Egyptians. To talk of their being Sondras
(without showing a miraculous change of nature), would be as
absurd as to affirm that they were expelled Esquimaux.”
_The Gipsies._ By SAMUEL ROBERTS.
THE VIRGIN PEAK--ESMERALDA IN THE LERA--A DRIPPING NEREID--HEAVY
CLOUDS--THE CHURCH MOUNTAIN--WILD REINDEER--WHERE’S THE
TEA?--SINGULAR GLACIER--VALLEY OF RED SANDSTONE--THE HUNTER’S
CAVE--THE UTLADAL STÖL--THE MUMPLY VALLEY--FLÖDSGRÖD--A MOUNTAIN
STÖL--A ROUGH PATH--THE PURU RAWNEE’S ESCAPE--THE NARROW BRIDGE.
At eight o’clock we were _en route_ up the valley, and at length came in
sight of the steep, dark, and pointed mountain called “Kirken,” or
“Church Mountain.” This mountain reminded us very much of the “Trifaen
Mountain,” near the gloomy lake called Llyn Idwal, in North Wales, which
we once ascended. Even the barren sterility of the “Trifaen,” and the
shores of Llyn Idwal, and the “Devil’s Kitchen” above; the stony wastes
of the glyders, and the rugged pass of Llanberis, have no scenes of
extreme desolation, and absence of vegetable and animal life, similar to
some of the wilder Norwegian valleys through which we wandered.
“Kirken,” we were told, had never been ascended. Had time permitted, we
should have been much tempted to have spent some days on the shores of
the lake near.
Alas! the Norwegian summer is too fleeting. When we came up the valley,
near the Leir Vand, which is 4736 feet above the sea, Ole proposed that
the party should cross the Lera. It was a tolerably wide, rapid, broken
stream, where the donkeys had to cross.
Ole and myself went some distance up the river, and Ole soon crossed. We
were preparing to do so, when we saw Mephistopheles, mounted on the top
of his loaded donkey, stemming the rapid waters of the Lera in the
distance below.
The loaded Puru Rawnee was also bravely struggling in the rapid current
of the river for the other bank.
Then, as we turned again, we saw Esmeralda’s blue feather flaunting in
the wind, as, mounted on the baggage of her loaded donkey, she was
plunging across the rough bed of the river, when, oh! the Tarno Rye has
made a false step! Our baggage gone--saturated and spoilt!
Instantaneously, a fearful splash: Esmeralda is tumbled into the river,
and the baggage saved.
Are those sounds of suppressed lamentation we hear from Ole and
Mephistopheles, on the bank of the Lera? It seemed to us more like
laughter than anything else we ever heard.
We were too far off to render assistance, before we saw the dripping
form of our high-spirited gipsy girl rise from the cold icy waters of
the Lera. Esmeralda looked like a beautiful Nereid--a wild water-nymph.
Her long raven hair, now without a hat, glistened with the falling
moisture of a thousand spangles in the sun. Will no one plunge in to
help her? Would we were there! Now she has reached the shore. Crossing
the river we were soon with our party. Esmeralda was very wet. Although
the stream was not very deep, falling in as she did, her clothes were
completely soaked. The straw hat and blue feather, carried off by the
stream, was recovered some distance below.
The cold waters of the Lera had not improved the temper of our
hobbenengree. We offered her our best consolation, and at once proceeded
_en route_ as the best means of drying her clothes. Her _amour propre_
had been touched by the laughter of Noah and Zachariah.
Ole, with his usual tact, went as far in advance as was compatible with
his duties as guide.
Mephistopheles, in his most insinuating tones, said: “Dawdy, wouldn’t
the Rye have gone into the panee to save his Romany Juval? Wouldn’t you,
sir?”
“And why didn’t he do so?” said Esmeralda, sharply. “Nobody stirred; I
might have drowned over and over again for what they cared.”
“Well, daughter, we were just agoin’ in,” said Noah, with a grim smile.
“Going!” shouted Esmeralda; “go to Gorsley, and see Lizzy. Ambrose can
do it; can’t he? What a state he makes himself over everybody else.”
Now Noah was up. Esmeralda, by her allusion to Gorsley, had hit Noah in
some vulnerable place.
The pretty little donkey, which had done its best with a heavy load, and
the addition of Esmeralda’s weight, was of course severely
anathematized; but, strange to say, like the little jackdaw in the
“Ingoldsby’s Legends,” it seemed “never a penny the worse.”
Indeed, Esmeralda was very angry; but at last she became more cheerful
in proportion as her clothes became more dry. We were still in sight of
the Leir Vand. There are no fish in it, or apparently in the Lera Elv.
Kirken (Church) Mountain is extremely steep and picturesque. This view
of Kirken (Church) Mountain, steep, dark, and escarpé, and of the
Tverbottenhornene, the dark rocky mountain to the left, standing almost
isolated and apart, as seen from a point of view in the Gravdal, we
sketched during our mid-day halt.
[Illustration: KIRKEN MOUNTAIN, FROM GRAVDAL.]
We were not far from the Lang Vand and Visdal. Ole said that four
valleys commence near Church Mountain: Visdal, Leirdal (Clay Valley),
Gjendindal and Gravdal (Valley of the Grave). Four rivers have also
their source here: Visa Elv, Lera Elv, Gjendin Elv, Gravdal Elv. We had
to ford several smaller streams, and our route lay over a wild, sterile,
stony tract, among picturesque, sharp, peaky mountains. We could see the
peaks of Uledals Tinderne, one of which was soon afterwards ascended by
Messrs. Browne. Coming at length to a small lake, we distinctly saw on a
glacier below a mountain called by Ole the Hogvarden Tind (Peak of the
High Pass), a herd of about forty-five wild reindeer. We were not very
far from them. Under the shelter of scattered rocks we could have had a
still closer view. Ole regretted he had not brought a rifle. They might
have been stalked easily. The sun was also in our favour. Although for
some time we were in view of the reindeer, they did not notice us, and
when we went out of sight the herd were still on the glacier. It was a
beautiful sight as we watched them on the sloping snow. Descending down
the valley, we called a halt at a large rock near a small mountain
stream. We had accomplished a distance of about eight or nine miles. It
was about twelve o’clock. Not far from where we halted runs Simledal
(Hart’s Valley), and beyond us Ole pointed out the direction of the
Raudal (Red Valley).
We were now in our element. How could we be unhappy in such picturesque
scenes, pure nature, pure air, free existence? Even our gipsies were in
keeping with the rough unhewn rocks and wild flowers of this
unfrequented region. Just at this point of reflection Mephistopheles,
who was boiling our can of water over a fire of heath roots and moss,
called out in a melancholy screaming tone of voice, exactly imitating
his sister at our camp the evening before, “Where’s the tea?
Zachariah!! where’s the tea?” It was so true to tone and manner that,
braving Esmeralda’s displeasure, even Ole joined in the laugh. All was
immediately fun and merriment in our camp. Even Esmeralda deigned to
laugh. The reindeer meat, boiled the day before, was fried with
potatoes. This with tea formed an excellent meal--in fact, Ole said many
in Lom never had such a dinner.
Our gipsies were full of fun. Zachariah put up an impromptu tent with
two of our tent raniers and an Alpine stock, to shade Ole from the sun,
and he at once fell asleep. Then Zachariah contrived one for himself,
which was taken possession of by Noah, after a mimic battle. Esmeralda
put the things away, and all took their siesta, while we made two
sketches and entered up our diary. At twenty minutes to four our party
were again _en route_ down the valley.
The donkeys were quickly loaded. Over rough uneven ground we descended
the valley until we were below the picturesque Storbeatind and its
singular glacier.[96] Ole said it was so called, and that the Utladal
Elv derived its source from the Gravdal Vand. The river from this
singular glacier branched into many streams. Between two sterile steeps
the glacier narrows in its course and falls abruptly into the valley.
Above the almost straight line of glacier wall we saw an isolated,
lofty, peculiarly-shaped mass of ice, which put us in mind of one of the
ice cliffs in the Glacier des Bossons at Mont Blanc, so well represented
by Coleman in his “Scenes from the Snow Fields, or the Upper Ice
World.”[97] The glacier seemed to overhang the narrow valley. The
approaching night added to its picturesque effect.[98]
Ole crossed the river at some rocks below. Noah, Zachariah, and
Esmeralda crossed with the donkeys. They all had to stand a thorough
drenching of their legs and feet in the ice cold-water fresh from the
glacier. Esmeralda stood it manfully. We went a short distance below,
and, taking off our trousers, boots, and stockings, waded through. The
cold was intense. As we came up with our party, they had just seen a
reindeer; it was coming towards them, and was quite close before it
perceived our party and turned again. Zachariah gave chase; but it
slowly made its way among some loose rocks, and he lost sight of it.
[Illustration: ICE CLIFF, STORBEATIND GLACIER.]
The track was now extremely rugged, tortuous, and steep at times. We had
several streams to cross, and made our way with difficulty. In crossing
one narrow brook Zachariah’s donkey, which was very sure footed, slipped
back, and part of its load, containing Ole’s things in a pig’s bristle
bag, and the pocket containing Noah’s blankets, and our kettle bag, got
slightly wet before we could get it out.
There was no time to lose; on we went, and at length we came to a very
interesting steep mountain way between red rocks. Here we had the Red
Sandstone formation suddenly appearing near mountains of gneiss. The
gipsies had hard work of it. Each of the donkeys had to be carefully
led, and the loads steadied. Sometimes the loads, in going down a steep
descent, would slip forwards, and in ascending would get nearly over the
animal’s tail; so that the load had to be readjusted. We did the best we
could with Ole’s impromptu cruppers. It was hard work for Esmeralda; but
we relieved her as much as possible. Ole was ever at hand when a
difficulty occurred.
We must say that our gipsies stuck to their work bravely. It was not
long after we had come to the Red Sandstone rocks, that the Puru Rawnee
slipped backwards into some deep boggy ground. It was impossible to
avoid at times such mishaps. We had sometimes no choice, and on we must
go. Noah, Ole, and Zachariah, at last, by pushing and lifting and
dragging, got it out.
Mephistopheles, whose loud laugh rang amongst the rocks, was ever gay;
but his laughter became wonderfully like poshavaben (gip., false
laughter), when Ole said, in joke: “Master Zâkē], we shall have to cross
the river just now.”
Night was rapidly drawing on, and we had not yet reached the Utladal
Stöl. At last we came to a romantic reindeer hunter’s cave. It had a
narrow entrance in the rocks; no outlet for the smoke from the inside
but the entrance. Traces of fire remained, and we noticed marks on a
bank near where the hunters had tried their rifles. We had only time to
explore it, and make a hasty sketch.
Shortly afterwards, just at dusk, we came to the open ground of the
Utladal Stöl. It was a small melancholy valley. On a rise of ground, a
short distance from us, we could see the stöl or sœter built of loose
stones, one story high with one window. Somehow the stöl had a dismal
deserted appearance. Some cows were grazing near.
We were close to the river, some hillocks covered with low bushes only
intervening. The donkeys were very tired, and it was just nine o’clock.
Even Noah was out of sorts. The cows rendered the camp ground far from
desirable. There was no time for much choice, or we should have tried
some other ground. The woman of the sœter was out, so that we could not
have cream porridge as intended. A small boy represented the woman. Our
tents were quickly put up. Noah said he liked places where you could see
plenty of people. This was the only camp ground we had disliked through
our wanderings. It seemed like a valley where a dozen suicides had been
committed, supplemented by an undiscovered murder. Though the influences
were dull and gloomy, we made an excellent meal of tea with fried ham,
and Ole informed us that the woman had returned, and we could have
“flödsgröd” the next morning.
Ole, in answer to our inquiries, said that there were no fish in the
Utladals Elv, only newts, black-looking water lizards, sometimes called
“asgals,” in England “lacerta palustris.” There were no birds; even the
“philomela lascinia,” or one-headed nightingale, usually considered a
foolish bird and easily caught, was not fool enough to perch in this
valley.
Ole retired as quickly as he could to occupy the bed at the stöl, where
we were told Messrs. Boyson and Harrison had stayed one night--we do not
say slept, for we are extremely uncertain whether they did so.
Notwithstanding the Romany chaff--for the gipsies were blowing great
guns during tea, and pronounced the place in an impressive manner to be
“mumply”--we got an excellent night’s rest in our comfortable tent,
lulled quickly to sleep by the rushing waters of the Utladal Elv.
At six o’clock we were performing our matutinal ablutions on the banks
of the Utladals Elv, regardless of the newts, who might be staring at
such an unusual visitor. Then we had a consultation with Ole about our
future route. On reference to our maps and a calculation of the
different routes to be followed, it seemed that we should reach
Christiania with difficulty at the time we proposed. We sighed for a
double summer in such a splendid country for mountaineering. At first we
thought of giving up our visit to Mörkfos; then remembering Captain
Campbell’s description of this magnificent fall, we determined it must
be visited, even if we pushed through the rest of the journey by forced
marches.
Our breakfast of “flödsgröd” was prepared by the woman and ready at
eight o’clock. For the information of our readers, we will describe how
it is made. Two quarts and a half of beautiful cream were boiled by the
sœter woman in an iron pot, to which we added some of our barley meal
carried from Elvsœter. This was mixed together with the gröd-stick, and
carried down to our tent. The flödsgröd was quite sufficient for the
breakfast of five persons, and is a dish highly prized by the
Norwegians, being eaten without the addition of anything else. It is
very rich; the butter from the cream floating about at the top in a
melted state.
The two quarts and a half of cream cost us one mark twelve skillings,
and we gave the woman four skillings, which Ole suggested as quite
sufficient. All the party excepting perhaps Ole, preferred the ordinary
gröd with milk.
[Illustration: UTLADAL STÖL, MUMPLY VALLEY.]
The woman was a thick-set strong young person who lived alone at the
sœter with her little boy. She had plenty of occupation; seventeen cows
to milk every day, besides taking care of seventeen goats and twenty
sheep.
The Utladal Stöl was built with loose granite stones, earth, and sods,
forming one long low building, divided interiorly into three
compartments, one opening into the other across the ground floor. They
had hardened mud floors. The second room contained a fire hearth and
chimney and bed, and was lighted with one small window which did not
open; the compartment was used as a dairy. There were three ventilators
or holes in the roof, which, by the aid of a long stick attached to a
square piece of board, could be lifted or closed at pleasure. The
Utladal Stöl was roofed partly with turf and partly with flat stones. In
the Bergen Stift we were told that the sœters are called “stöls.” The
Utladal Stöl was much like the dwelling-houses which were often met with
formerly in the wild parts of Carnarvonshire and other counties in North
Wales. In Norway the stöls are not used as dwellings like similar
buildings were in former times in Wales. They are only occupied for a
short period of the year in summer. Two guns, for shooting reindeer,
hung from the roof of one of the rooms.
We were glad to leave, at ten o’clock, this melancholy part of the
valley, which is between the Raudals Hö, or Hill of the Red Valley, and
the Utladals Axelen. The donkeys were not very fresh, and ascended
slowly the steep ascent from the stöl. Esmeralda’s donkey, the Tarno
Rye, was rather weak at starting. The Puru Rawnee was stronger, but its
back was a little sore. Our cruppers were made of twisted birch twigs
wrapped with a piece of carpet. Birch twigs are used for a variety of
purposes in Norway--crates, net baskets, hobbles, cruppers, fastenings
for sails, oars, withes for gates, &c.
Soon afterwards we descended the other side of the hill towards a stream
called the Lille Utladals Elv. The gipsies called it a “slem drom.” Our
donkeys made their way with difficulty, and great care had to be used
to keep the loads in place and the donkeys on their legs.
Reaching the rapid waters of the torrent in order to avoid the deep
boggy ground on its bank, we were obliged to go upon the loose stones
and shelving rocks on the brink of the stream.
In reaching the river the Puru Rawnee had fallen twice, and the second
time had broken our tent pole into two pieces. Ole and ourselves took
some of the things and carried them to lighten the weight.
The Utladals Elv, by which we had camped the previous night, was roaring
between some precipitous rocks just beyond, and flowed into the stream
we were following. At the junction we had to cross a narrow bridge over
the Utladals Elv.
Some sloping slippery shelving rocks at the brink of the Lille Utladals
Elv, had to be crossed to reach the bridge over the other stream. The
first attempt was made with the Puru Rawnee, whose legs slipped from
under it, and sliding down the slippery rock on its side, was held back
by Noah just in time to prevent its going into the river. One end of the
pocket was already in the stream, and the Puru Rawnee and our baggage
upon her in another minute would have probably been carried down the
rapid torrent and lost. Noah succeeded in holding her on the rock till
we got some of the baggage unloosed. She was at length recovered, and
the other donkeys were afterwards safely guided over the same rock to
the bridge.
There was no wading at this part of the Utladals Elv. We had a strong,
deep, heavy current of waters rushing with wild impetuosity under the
overhanging rocks. High above the foaming waters, a narrow frail
bridge, with a wicket and slight hand rail on each side, spanned the
river. The Utladals Elv formed its junction just below with the Lille
Utladals Elv. Ole stepped across the bridge with I don’t know how many
pounds of baggage, on his shoulder, as if he expected the whole
cavalcade to follow _à pas de chasseurs de Vincennes_.