Night-time Mountain Hike
Leading the way at the head of our group, as we departed from the farm, were two Norwegians, Jacob Hjelle and Haldor Ovredal, the two men who had met us at the boathouse on Lønningdal. We knew them by their noms-de-guerre only at that time, which were Jacob and Sigvald respectively. Nilsen was referred to as Lange Johannes (Long John}. He stood well over six foot six. Following the leaders were Grandy, Graham and Deeth, behind them, Nilsen towered over Biddle and Neil who were on either side of him. Rain, which had plagued us throughout had started once again. Nilsen had removed his raincoat and had thrown it over Deeth's head. The coat was so long it trailed on the ground at Deeth's heels. Walking beside me at the rear of our procession was a slim, blond Norwegian of about twenty years of age who was about six foot six in height. He spoke English, had a whimsical smile, and a very ingratiating manner. He had introduced him self as Lange Kjell. We were fast to learn that the closest we could come to pronouncing his name properly was to say, "shell".
We trudged along in the darkness eventually coming to a small stream that we had to ford. I had been unable to get rubber boots to fit me so had been outfit ted with a good pair of socks and a pair of shoes. Although the shoes did not fit too well they were better than not having any. The lead group started across the stream with the others following. Kjell, noticing my shoes, told me to climb on his back and he would carry me across. I hesitated as the pack I was carrying was fairly heavy and, added to my own weight, I thought that it would make crossing difficult for him. He persuaded me and I climbed on his back and we started across. In the middle of the stream he stopped, turned to me and, with a mischievous grin, told me that it was time to get off. This type of joshing seemed to be second nature to Kjell; from then on whenever we have been together he and I have derived a lot of pleasure in teasing one another.
Crossing the stream, we headed into a valley with high mountains on both sides. We could see a long narrow lake stretching out ahead with the high walls of the mountain dropping vertically, straight down into the lake. The Norwegians had thought of everything for there, at the foot of the lake, a large dory was drawn up on shore. Stowing our backpacks into the boat we pushed it out into the water. We clambered aboard and once again the Norwegians showed their skill at the oars. The lake was about a mile in length and the two oarsmen negotiated the mile without effort.
Arriving at the head of the lake we went ashore onto a small beach; we quickly pulled the boat onto the shore and secured it. We gathered our gear from the boat, helped one another to secure the straps of our backpacks and prepared to follow our Norwegian companions. It was extremely dark, limiting our visibility considerably, but we were able to see enough to determine that the route ahead meant that we would be in for a hard rough climb.
We laboriously worked our way upwards through the brush making very slow but steady progress. Coming now and then to areas where the ground levelled, and where the underbrush and trees were not as dense, we were able to make better time. We kept on for a while and then to our consternation we arrived at the foot of a very high steep cliff. Nilsen indicated that we had to climb the cliff and told us to move on ahead. We were quick to discover the reason he had questioned us at the farmhouse when he had asked us if we were used to climbing up mountainsides.
With Jacob Hjelle and Haldor Øvredal in the vanguard, indicating to us the best route to follow, the ascent started. We tried as best we could to follow in their footsteps, using the same footholds as they had, and reaching for the same handholds. Our progress literally slowed to a crawl. The going was very difficult, so much so that we had to stop every so often in order to take a short breather before continuing on. Clinging to the face of the cliff was almost as difficult as the actual climb.
Nilsen at one point, thinking that Biddle was having difficulty, reached over, took Biddle's pack, slung it over his back, called to us that it was not much further to the top and that we were just about there. We took heart from his confidence and encouraged by the others attempted to quicken our pace.
Peering up, it was not possible to penetrate the darkness to be able to determine where the top of the cliff was. Looking down we could not tell how far we
Crossing the stream, we headed into a valley with high mountains on both sides. We could see a long narrow lake stretching out ahead with the high walls of the mountain dropping vertically, straight down into the lake. The Norwegians had thought of everything for there, at the foot of the lake, a large dory was drawn had come. No alternative was available; we had to keep on. Finally, after climbing for what seemed an eternity, we made it to the top. Greatly relieved, we rolled over on the ground and rested for a very short spell. We realized that Nilsen had used a bit of psychology when he had told us that we were almost to the top, when in reality we had not covered a quarter of the distance.
Nilsen told us that we still had some distance to travel to reach our destination, but as he wanted to go to Bergen without any delay, it was imperative that we move on, and that he and his men would return as soon as possible. He promised that the remaining portion of the route would be less difficult, and that we would have lots of opportunity to relax once we reached our objective. Buoyed up by the knowledge that we had covered the most difficult part of the trip, we once more set off behind our two leaders.
We hiked on through the trees until we came to a crescent shaped stream. As we carefully made our way across the stream we could see a little log cabin nestled in the woods. The stream seemed to completely surround the cabin on three sides as it meandered down the mountain. At long last we had come to the end of our journey. Furtively we approached the cabin and as everything seemed to be in order, we went on to the door and entered. We were greeted by a young man; it was obvious that he had been expecting our arrival.
Although the distance from the farm at Lønningdal to our destination was less than four and a half kilometres as the crow flies, our journey had covered approximately seven and a half kilometres (about four and a half miles). We had travelled for one and a half kilometres (one mile) by rowboat on the lake at Lønningdal. This meant that the land portion of our little hike was less than six kilometres (about three and a half miles). Under normal hiking conditions that distance should take slightly over an hour to complete. However, to indicate how strenuous the climb had been, it took us just over three hours to arrive at the cabin.
Leading the way at the head of our group, as we departed from the farm, were two Norwegians, Jacob Hjelle and Haldor Ovredal, the two men who had met us at the boathouse on Lønningdal. We knew them by their noms-de-guerre only at that time, which were Jacob and Sigvald respectively. Nilsen was referred to as Lange Johannes (Long John}. He stood well over six foot six. Following the leaders were Grandy, Graham and Deeth, behind them, Nilsen towered over Biddle and Neil who were on either side of him. Rain, which had plagued us throughout had started once again. Nilsen had removed his raincoat and had thrown it over Deeth's head. The coat was so long it trailed on the ground at Deeth's heels. Walking beside me at the rear of our procession was a slim, blond Norwegian of about twenty years of age who was about six foot six in height. He spoke English, had a whimsical smile, and a very ingratiating manner. He had introduced him self as Lange Kjell. We were fast to learn that the closest we could come to pronouncing his name properly was to say, "shell".
We trudged along in the darkness eventually coming to a small stream that we had to ford. I had been unable to get rubber boots to fit me so had been outfit ted with a good pair of socks and a pair of shoes. Although the shoes did not fit too well they were better than not having any. The lead group started across the stream with the others following. Kjell, noticing my shoes, told me to climb on his back and he would carry me across. I hesitated as the pack I was carrying was fairly heavy and, added to my own weight, I thought that it would make crossing difficult for him. He persuaded me and I climbed on his back and we started across. In the middle of the stream he stopped, turned to me and, with a mischievous grin, told me that it was time to get off. This type of joshing seemed to be second nature to Kjell; from then on whenever we have been together he and I have derived a lot of pleasure in teasing one another.
Crossing the stream, we headed into a valley with high mountains on both sides. We could see a long narrow lake stretching out ahead with the high walls of the mountain dropping vertically, straight down into the lake. The Norwegians had thought of everything for there, at the foot of the lake, a large dory was drawn up on shore. Stowing our backpacks into the boat we pushed it out into the water. We clambered aboard and once again the Norwegians showed their skill at the oars. The lake was about a mile in length and the two oarsmen negotiated the mile without effort.
Arriving at the head of the lake we went ashore onto a small beach; we quickly pulled the boat onto the shore and secured it. We gathered our gear from the boat, helped one another to secure the straps of our backpacks and prepared to follow our Norwegian companions. It was extremely dark, limiting our visibility considerably, but we were able to see enough to determine that the route ahead meant that we would be in for a hard rough climb.
We laboriously worked our way upwards through the brush making very slow but steady progress. Coming now and then to areas where the ground levelled, and where the underbrush and trees were not as dense, we were able to make better time. We kept on for a while and then to our consternation we arrived at the foot of a very high steep cliff. Nilsen indicated that we had to climb the cliff and told us to move on ahead. We were quick to discover the reason he had questioned us at the farmhouse when he had asked us if we were used to climbing up mountainsides.
With Jacob Hjelle and Haldor Øvredal in the vanguard, indicating to us the best route to follow, the ascent started. We tried as best we could to follow in their footsteps, using the same footholds as they had, and reaching for the same handholds. Our progress literally slowed to a crawl. The going was very difficult, so much so that we had to stop every so often in order to take a short breather before continuing on. Clinging to the face of the cliff was almost as difficult as the actual climb.
Nilsen at one point, thinking that Biddle was having difficulty, reached over, took Biddle's pack, slung it over his back, called to us that it was not much further to the top and that we were just about there. We took heart from his confidence and encouraged by the others attempted to quicken our pace.
Peering up, it was not possible to penetrate the darkness to be able to determine where the top of the cliff was. Looking down we could not tell how far we
Crossing the stream, we headed into a valley with high mountains on both sides. We could see a long narrow lake stretching out ahead with the high walls of the mountain dropping vertically, straight down into the lake. The Norwegians had thought of everything for there, at the foot of the lake, a large dory was drawn had come. No alternative was available; we had to keep on. Finally, after climbing for what seemed an eternity, we made it to the top. Greatly relieved, we rolled over on the ground and rested for a very short spell. We realized that Nilsen had used a bit of psychology when he had told us that we were almost to the top, when in reality we had not covered a quarter of the distance.
Nilsen told us that we still had some distance to travel to reach our destination, but as he wanted to go to Bergen without any delay, it was imperative that we move on, and that he and his men would return as soon as possible. He promised that the remaining portion of the route would be less difficult, and that we would have lots of opportunity to relax once we reached our objective. Buoyed up by the knowledge that we had covered the most difficult part of the trip, we once more set off behind our two leaders.
We hiked on through the trees until we came to a crescent shaped stream. As we carefully made our way across the stream we could see a little log cabin nestled in the woods. The stream seemed to completely surround the cabin on three sides as it meandered down the mountain. At long last we had come to the end of our journey. Furtively we approached the cabin and as everything seemed to be in order, we went on to the door and entered. We were greeted by a young man; it was obvious that he had been expecting our arrival.
Although the distance from the farm at Lønningdal to our destination was less than four and a half kilometres as the crow flies, our journey had covered approximately seven and a half kilometres (about four and a half miles). We had travelled for one and a half kilometres (one mile) by rowboat on the lake at Lønningdal. This meant that the land portion of our little hike was less than six kilometres (about three and a half miles). Under normal hiking conditions that distance should take slightly over an hour to complete. However, to indicate how strenuous the climb had been, it took us just over three hours to arrive at the cabin.