Like Switzerland, Norway has splendid roads. No difficulty in road-making seems to be too great for the Norwegian engineers to overcome. One frequently sees miles of road cut out of the solid rock of some mountain-side, and skirting the edge of a fjord or long lake. Again, a road may wind its way through a narrow gorge, with precipices a thousand feet high on either hand, and down in the depths a wild torrent, crossed every here and there by massive stone bridges; or, over the open mountains a road will zigzag upwards to a pass in long loops, like the famous “Snake Road” near RÖldal.

And the surface of all these roads is hard and kept in good repair—at any rate, in the summer months. In the winter they are, of course, thick in snow, which, when beaten down by the sleigh traffic, forms a new surface, which takes the wear and tear off the actual roadway for several months.

But we are now writing of the summer, after the snow has all melted, the snow-ploughs put on one side, and the roads recovered from the havoc wrought by the streams of melting snow. Then the sleighs have been hidden away in the innermost recesses of barns and outhouses, and the driving season begins.

Driving is one of the greatest enjoyments of Norwegian travel, though too much of it is perhaps wearisome. The best plan is to arrange a tour, so that some of it shall be by railway, some by steamer, some walking, and some driving, and this is generally easy to manage. The particular charm of driving is that the traveller can take his own time, go his own pace, and stop when and where he chooses. In this manner the scenery is capable of being more fully appreciated.

Until quite recently there were very few railways in Norway, and there are not many now. There are, however, plenty of excellent roads, and a well-organized system of posting. The posting-stations are situated about ten miles apart, and consist usually of a small inn or farmhouse, where the traveller can demand food and lodgings, as well as a change of conveyance and horses. The skydsgut (literally post-boy, but frequently an old man, or even a woman), accompanies the conveyance from his station to the next, and returns with it, though nowadays it is more usual to engage a vehicle (if not also a horse or pony) for a whole day’s journey, which has the advantage of avoiding the perpetual rearrangement of one’s luggage.

There are four kinds of conveyance in general use: the calÈche, drawn by a pair of horses, and something like a heavily-built victoria; the trille, a light, four-wheeled trap with two horses; and the stolkjÆrre and the carriole, the last two being the most popular and convenient vehicles for quick travelling.

The stolkjÆrre is a rough, box-like cart, with a seat for two persons, and another little seat behind for the skydsgut. It has the advantages of ample room for luggage, and economy when travelling two together, the hire of one stolkjÆrre being less than that of two carrioles; but, having no springs, it jolts and jars its occupants most unmercifully.

The carriole may be considered to be the national vehicle of Norway, and is certainly the most comfortable. In appearance it resembles a miniature buggy, and it holds one person, who can stretch his legs in a long, narrow trough between the seat and the splash-board; or, by straddling the trough, the occupant can rest his feet on two conveniently-placed iron steps. The luggage is strapped on to a board behind, and the skydsgut sits on it. A day’s drive in a carriole, if the weather be fine and the pony a good one, is a real pleasure, and an intelligent skydsgut will enliven the journey with his amusing babble, as well as with scraps of information about the country traversed.

The ponies are generally about thirteen hands in height, good-tempered, sure-footed, strong, and hardy, and think nothing of doing thirty or forty miles a day, if given an occasional rest. Driving them requires no great skill, and it is best to leave them as much as possible to their own devices, since reins and bit have very little influence over their movements. One may haul on to the reins for half an hour without inducing the pony to pull up, but the magic sound of the “burr-r-r” uttered by the skydsgut will cause the little beast to stop dead. And he will not go on again until he hears the peculiar click of his master’s tongue. So the stranger in the carriole or stolkjÆrre will do well to hold the reins for the sake of appearances, and allow his skydsgut to do the rest.

One word of comfort to the adventurous driver: Do not be alarmed if you notice that the harness is dropping to pieces. Your henchman (up behind) will soon put matters right with some scraps of string and a few bits of stick.

But the actual drive—how lovely it all is! Now you are passing up a valley among the hayfields and orchards which border the river, and by the roadside you find a profusion of wild flowers—great purple gentians, blue harebells, yellow mountain globe flowers, and other blossoms of varied colours. Butterflies there are also in abundance, and, if you be an entomologist, your heart will rejoice at the sight of such rare English insects as the Camberwell Beauty, the Northern Brown, and others. Now you enter a dark pine-forest, to find yourself before long emerging on to an open stretch of wild moorland; and so you cross the col, and commence to drop down into another valley, narrow and shut in by towering mountains. Waterfalls sparkle in the sun as they tumble over the cliffs, and the still unmelted snow stands out white and glistering on the distant hill-tops. The road swings from side to side of the valley, crossing the torrent in its bottom by stout timber bridges, and at last you reach the margin of the great lake, where stands the neat little inn ready to provide you with your midday meal.

The organized tours, however short they be, always include a drive of this description, and no Englishman would consider that he had visited Norway unless he had driven through a part of the country. Even in a week one can cover a deal of ground. One can go by steamer from Bergen up the Hardanger Fjord to Eide, and thence drive across the neck of land to the Sogne Fjord, through the finest and most varied scenery imaginable, returning to Bergen, if needs be, by steamer down the Sogne Fjord. Or, if there be a few days to spare, one can steam across the head of the Sogne Fjord from Gudvangen to LÆrdalsÖren, and thence again take carriole or stolkjÆrre to the Fillefjeld, and so visit the wildest of Norway’s mountain districts, the Jotunheim—the Home of the Giants.