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.

TRONDHJEM—OLD BOATS

The form of the ancient Viking ships is still preserved in these boats

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.

COSTUME WORN IN THE BERGEN DISTRICT

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 Sælbo, where we had decided to spend a few days. The vehicle which we had chosen was a stolkjærre, 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 ROAD TO HELL, NEAR TRONDHJEM

This is one of the rare railway stations of Norway

The stolkjærre, 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 stolkjærre 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 stolkjærre. 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;...