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 soeter. 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 Soeter, we had to descend a very rough mountain track, difficult for our already tired donkeys. Still we were anxious to reach the Ny Soeter 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 Soeter.84

Near the Ny Soeter there was a fenced paddock, and close to the Soeter 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 Soeter 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 Soeter. 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 ZÂkee.

In the evening, as the Soeter 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 Soeter, 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 Soeter 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 Veblungsnoes. 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 Soeter 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.