Chapter I: Precarious Travel

Of the sea voyage to Norway the less said the better. It is my habit to be ill when I am at sea. That is unfortunate; but habit in itself engenders a mode of philosophy that makes many of the evils of life more easily bearable than they might otherwise be. I expect to be ill, and literally lay myself out for it; but Nico takes up an attitude of aggrieved surprise that the ocean should thus overcome him, and consequently is a far greater sufferer than I am. However, it is easy to assume a more or less frivolous tone when all is over, and the fact must be admitted that the voyage to Norway is almost invariably unpleasant to the majority. From the Continent, one can go overland; but such a country as Norway should be approached by sea. Still, many a valiant sportsman prefers the land for his return when the autumn winds begin to blow, and so it is not surprising that less hardy natures are inclined to do the same. It was summer when I visited Norway for the first time; and, although one has frequent chances of viewing the coast as one steams along it from Stavanger to Trondhjem, I did not really begin to take any interest in the country until I had rested and eaten for some days in the latter town. Certainly I had one experience in Bergen during the two or three hours that we stopped there on our way north. With my usual insatiable thirst for dissipation, I insisted on visiting a circus I had discovered upon the outskirts of the town. The performance was not very thrilling; but we are neither of us difficult to please, and we stayed rather late. Thus, when we returned to the quay the gangway of our vessel was being pulled up. Nico made a rush for it, and was saved; but could not prevent the sailors from completing their task, and thus I was left lamenting. However, the sailors finally threw me a rope, and I managed to scramble on to the deck. It was most undignified, and, I am afraid, from the safety of the deck a most laughable spectacle; and I fled to hide my embarrassment in my cabin, ultimately going supperless to bed.

In Trondhjem it rained all day and all night, and the inhabitants cheerfully told us that it was always so. Nico, however, painted in the rain, enveloped in mackintoshes and encompassed by umbrellas, and was much disgusted to find that he attracted no attention at all. Accustomed as I am to be an object of inquisitive interest to the inhabitants of small Dutch towns, I was rather relieved to be taken so absolutely for granted in Norway, in spots unfrequented even by ardent fishermen.

At Trondhjem we were delighted with the delicious salmon and sea-trout; but after some weeks of salmon for breakfast, salmon for dinner, and salmon for supper, I found myself wondering whether it was all that it had seemed to me at first. I am rather ashamed to have to confess that, in spite of the fact that wherever English was spoken the chances were that the conversation turned upon salmon or trout fishing, neither Nico nor I know anything of those earlier and more exciting passages in the salmon's career which culminate in his presence at the table. It may be said that, with the exception of the Germans, who visit the coast-line in ship-loads, there are practically no _tourists_ in Norway. Fish seem to be the main object of the stranger within her gates; and, as I have long despaired of grafting a sporting taste upon the artistic temperament, I decided then and there to leave the subject severely alone.

Besides the anglers, many men go over for shooting. There are still wild animals to be found; licences are very cheap; and the Government even offers a reward for the slaughter of certain beasts. In the case of the rarer animals, such as the elk and the wild reindeer, certain restrictions are placed upon the foreign hunter. On the payment of a sum between ten and twelve pounds he is allowed to kill three reindeer and one elk. The native hunter suffers from the same restrictions; but his licence costs him very much less.

All this has little to do with Trondhjem. We were rather unlucky there, and were not, perhaps, so much impressed as we ought to have been. Calculations based upon careful study of the guide-book proved to be incorrect, and we found the doors of the Cathedral constantly closed against us. As it is _the_ object of interest in the place, we were somewhat impatient, and, when we did contrive to obtain entrance, were not in any way mollified to find the building pervaded by spectacled and reverential Germans, who bestowed superciliously indignant glances upon us, as on persons who were unjustly sharing a view arranged for their party specially. It is certainly a most beautiful building, and is being restored in a worthy manner. I remarked as much to Nico at the moment, but was immediately suppressed by the ancient guardian acting as our guide, who begged me in very stately broken English not to interrupt his discourse. Later we went to a music-hall and sat through a most extraordinary programme twice repeated. Nico ordered beer, and was served with an immense plate of variegated sandwiches in addition. This, I believe, was in accordance with the law that forbids the sale of intoxicating liquors unless food is served with them. All over Norway the most complicated laws are in force with respect to drink, and these laws seem to be different in every town and village. I have not gone into the subject deeply; but it is certainly a rare thing to meet with a drunken Norwegian in the country parts.

Trondhjem always has been, and still is, the crowning place of the Norwegian kings. It seems to me that it is a long way to go for such a purpose; but I concluded that it was an affair in which the kings alone were concerned. We walked out to a beautiful waterfall near the town, called the Lerfos, and came back by rail. Some idea of the speed attained by the trains may be gathered from the fact that, although the train had started when we reached the station, we were able to board it quite easily after it had gone some distance. Then, one very wet morning we decided that we had had enough of the place, and, shaking the mud from our boots, we took train to Hell. I refrain from the obvious little jokes that may be made upon such a journey, and merely record the fact that we arrived very cold, and soon became very wet during our stay there. The station buildings were all locked up; and we wandered about disconsolately, waiting for the cart which was to meet us and drive us to Saelbo, where we had decided to spend a few days. The vehicle which we had chosen was a _stolkjaerre_, and I must here explain some of the difficulties of locomotion peculiar to Norway. The mileage of railway is small in proportion to the size of the country: the natural formation of the land presents immense difficulties to the engineer. To these obstacles must be added the very hard winters, the heavy rainfall, and the exceeding scantiness of the population in many parts of the country. Consequently, almost all travelling is carried out by means of an admirably arranged posting system. On all the roads, at distances varying from seven to eleven miles, may be found posting stations where horses may be changed; where, also, the traveller may eat and sleep. These wayside inns are generally farmhouses, varying widely in their capacity for the entertainment of man and beast. They are obliged to keep a certain number of carts and horses for the use of travellers at a specified rate per kilometre, fixed by the Government, such rates being subject to slight increase where particularly mountainous roads are concerned. There are three classes of vehicles in general use. The _carriole_, which is the typical Norwegian conveyance, is exceedingly comfortable and well adapted to its purpose; it is built for one person, and runs easily on good springs, and may be likened to an armchair on wheels, but so arranged that one can either sit in it with knees bent, as in an ordinary vehicle, or stretched out at full length in a kind of trough. This obviates the stiffness engendered by endless hours of driving in one position.

The stolkjaerre, on the other hand, is a terrible invention, as much like one of our plumber's handcarts with a rough wooden seat in it as anything I can think of. It holds two people and a certain amount of luggage. On the main roads one finds the carts fitted with something in the way of springs; but upon roads such as it was our fortune to be driven on, often badly in need of repairs, they were usually much behind the times, and it was a wonderful and awful sensation to drive for untold hours under such conditions.

The carriole and the stolkjaerre have a small seat at the back for the boy who is sent by the proprietor, to be changed, along with the horse and cart, at each station; but in the case of the third method of locomotion--that is to say, with much style and excessive slowness--one takes over the responsibility of the whole affair--namely, coachman, horses, and carriage, which in this case is called _kaleschevogn_,--only to be laid aside when one arrives at one's final destination, and using the stations only for the purpose of resting and eating. To return to the carriole and the stolkjaerre. It must be noted that one is expected to drive oneself, though, if anything goes wrong with the horse and cart, the driver is responsible. The mountain ponies are very surefooted and need no guidance; but it was our fate to be made acquainted with cattle that shied, with others that tripped, and with one pony (I recall the occurrence with horror) that stumbled on a narrow road, cut out of the almost perpendicular side of a mountain, three thousand feet above a roaring torrent. One wheel of our vehicle was actually in mid-air; but, fortunately, the horse fell on the shaft that was on the mountain side of the pass. Had this not been so, one of the stones that mark the site of such accidents on the Norwegian roads would have been erected to our memory.

It was at Hell that we had our first experience of the stolkjaerre. This was after waiting some three hours, which Nico improved by making a sketch, while I looked for visionary wild strawberries in the soaking grass. Then appeared a cosy little carriole, upholstered in red velvet, and carefully covered with tarpaulins. This was immediately taken over by a prosperous station official, who drove off in comparative comfort. In a few minutes appeared the plumber's handcart which I have already attempted to describe, and in it a very diminutive boy, who manfully tackled the luggage, which he endeavoured to make fast with a heap of very thin string, supplemented by straps from Nico's sketching equipment. Now we were really off, and I had time to study our pony. He had a long and heavy tail, which he would toss over the reins; the pressure he thus brought to bear he promptly obeyed, and we pursued a somewhat erratic course, varied by descents upon the part of the diminutive boy to replace the pony's tail. At length we reached a lonely farmhouse, at which, he implied, we were to alight; and we paid him his little bill, with the addition of a small _pourboire_. He shook hands very gravely with Nico, and, looking again at his money, inwardly decided that we deserved a little more attention, and shook hands with me too. We did not know anything about posting, and, somewhat overwhelmed with this ceremonious leave-taking, stood for some time in doubt as to what to do next. Soon an old woman appeared at the door of the house, and beckoned us in. I explained as well as I could, with the help of a phrase-book, that we wanted a horse and stolkjaerre as quickly as possible. This seemed to amuse the old lady immensely. She laughed until the tears came into her eyes, and, taking the book from my hands, examined it intently upside down. As it was getting late and we had still a long way to go, Nico tried what could be done by a pantomimic display. Sitting astride a chair, he tied his handkerchief to represent the reins, and supplemented the performance with encouraging noises addressed to an imaginary steed. This tickled the people of the house; but I realised that we were no nearer our object, and decided to forage for myself. I boldly ascended the steep incline of logs upheld by beams that led from the yard to a very dark stable. I found no horse; but there was a stolkjaerre without the ghost of a spring. I appealed again to the old lady, who had followed me, for a horse. She merely patted me, and, I think, urged me to be calm. Just at this moment another boy appeared upon the scene, and inquired whether it was really a horse that we wanted. Knowing the Norwegian for _horse_, I nodded vigorously. He smiled indulgently, but took no other step. After another half hour's alternate shouting and periods of calm, the boy roused himself to action and went off, while the old lady, who, I believe, was really kind and interested in us, took me into the kitchen and made up the fire, as she discovered that my hands were cold. I suppose she knew what we wanted all the time, and that we ought to have taken things more easily; but at that time I knew nothing of the unwritten laws with regard to posting in Norway.

We had a terribly long drive, through magnificent scenery, going uphill for miles; and very desolate and wild it seemed in the half light of that damp and dreary evening. Not a human being did we meet, and scarcely a dwelling was to be seen along the route. It was midnight when we reached our destination, one of the typical boarding-houses scattered all over Norway, in which inhabitants of the towns not possessing villas of their own pass a few weeks in the summer. They are called "sanatoriums," generally provide fishing, and are always amid glorious scenery. The ones that I visited were splendidly managed, and exceedingly reasonable in their charges. Marienborg, the name of the small sanatorium in which we stayed at Saelbo, is exquisitely situated above a very charming lake, and new beauties discovered themselves in whatever direction one wandered. The air is perfect, and the weather almost dependable, in the few short weeks of summer. It was now the middle of August. The hostess was carefully tending her strawberry-beds, and pointed out to us a fine specimen that was still green. The meals at this establishment may be taken, I think, as typical of those of the whole of Northern Norway. Breakfast (when you wish) consists of coffee and cream, eggs, and various odorous kinds of cheese, of which I can only remember the names of two, the reindeer cheese and the goat cheese. Dinner is at two o'clock. Salmon is a staple dish; the meat, generally mutton, is not much to boast of. The game, when one can get it, is excellent. The people seem to care little for any vegetable except potatoes. A great "feature" of the meal is the dishes of fresh berries served with an abundance of delicious cream. The milk, which is a general drink, is always skimmed. The bread is an acquired taste, cinnamon and caraway seeds being often used as a flavouring. A strange bread, which at its best form was rather pleasant, consisted of sheets of wafer-like thinness and considerable size, broken up to the requirements of the eaters. This is served with every meal. One seemed to be eating tissue paper without pulp. Though it is difficult to believe in its nourishing qualities, a Norwegian meal would be incomplete without it. Amid more gorgeous circumstances it is rejected for a delicately flavoured smooth wafer which is really pleasing with butter. In places near the sea we were delighted with the abundance of prawns and lobsters; prawns of such perfection I had never tasted before. It is very difficult to get fresh butter. As a rule it is made in the saeters in the mountains, where the cattle are kept in summer, and on account of the heat is very much oversalted before being sent down.

We stayed some time at Saelbo, as the only way to leave it was by riding along a narrow bridle-path for over a hundred kilometres, and this was not likely to be very pleasant. The only way to avoid it was by partially retracing our footsteps, and this we liked still less. Nico had become devoted to the picturesque log buildings with their delightful grass roofs studded with flowers, and even in some cases actually bearing small trees; and I had discovered a dear old woman who passed her time in knitting curious triangular gloves. She had been nurse in an English family many years before, and could speak a sort of English. She loved to tell me tales of her former charges; she did not seem to mind how much I understood, and no more did I. Her two sons were in America, whence they sent her a sufficient allowance to keep her in comparative comfort, and in addition to this she sold the gloves she passed her time in knitting. She lived all alone in a log house consisting of one large room, which served her for all purposes except sleeping (a tiny cabin built in the main wall served for that), and containing very little furniture, the peasantry in Norway having the good sense to appreciate the advantages of space. Large tables with folding legs are fixed with hinges to the wall, and when not in use are hooked up out of the way. In one corner of the room was the round whitewashed open fireplace and chimney which are characteristic of these log houses--infinitely to be preferred, from a comforting as well as a picturesque point of view, to the tall iron stoves generally in use. The stoves have their qualities, however, being narrow and made in four or five divisions above that intended for fuel, which is invariably wood. Each of these compartments has its own temperature, and is to be used with discretion for drying and heating purposes. One word of warning: do not put your boots in the partition nearest the fire.

At our sanatorium all the visitors ate at one table, and we were charmed at our first acquaintance with a custom which holds good all through Norway. When the meal is over all the guests wait for the hostess to rise; then they follow her example and gravely bow, thus thanking one another for the honour conferred during the repast. This practice is observed wherever two or more people are seated at the same table, even though they may be absolute strangers.

We had now discovered that by crossing the lake on a very old steamer we should reach a place called Brottem and thence proceed northwards to a spot from which we could pursue our journey. We parted from the lovely smiling place with many regrets, and, boarding the steamer, found we had it to ourselves. At a bend in the lake Saelbo was lost to our sight, while on either side of the narrow water the banks rose precipitously, thickly wooded with pines. The sun had disappeared, and the air was growing cold, when suddenly the steamer stopped, the captain proclaiming in a matter-of-fact tone that the engine refused to work. We ascertained that we were in no actual danger; but out of sight and sound of humanity, on a tiny and very ancient vessel, we were in a position of unpleasant possibilities. We remained stationary for two hours. Then one of our three navigators had a brilliant inspiration. That was to examine the engines, which had not, apparently, occurred to any of them before! After a little coaxing the vessel began to move again; and we eventually landed on the farther shore of the lake, very cold, very hungry, and much belated.

Here we found a large farmhouse surrounded by many outbuildings, and evidently prosperous. We were received with enthusiasm by the burly proprietor, his servants, and a Norwegian family engaged in fishing who were staying at the place. A splendid meal was prepared, and, to my joy, a wood fire was roaring in the tall iron stove of a large bedroom set apart for me. The fishing family knew a few words of English, which they were as much pleased to speak as we to hear. Next day was a Sunday, and at dinner Nico in his ignorance expressed a desire for something to drink, which was refused, as nothing could be sold on that day. The kind fishermen came to the rescue. They plied us with rare wines, and under that friendly influence we thawed gratefully. I found them enthusiastic whist-players, and eagerly desirous of mastering the intricacies of bridge. I did what I could in one short afternoon to enlighten them, and soon after sent them two scoring boards. Probably they will evolve a game for themselves which in the next generation will utterly eclipse bridge, as bridge has eclipsed whist and solo.

BROTTEM, AUNE, SLIPER, GJORA, SUNDALSOREN, ETC.