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Ralph In the morning, we bought a map at the Fina gas station. Its scale was 1:350000 and the company slogan was: "A successful journey begins with a good map." That was good enough for me. I forked over seventy-nine ($17.50) Norwegian kroners. We ate at picnic tables by the placid lake. A bike path circled the lake. Arran and Rebecca headed to the ferry to cross the next fjord from Hatvik to Vengja. Arran squeezed his rubber horn repeatedly and they waved good-bye. On our way to the ferry crossing we met Ralph from former East Germany. He demonstrated the heaviest loaded bike I had ever seen. Besides his gargantuan Karrimore front and rear panniers and load of miscellaneous camping equipment clinging to his rear rack, Ralph exhibited a pair of running shoes and a pair of sturdy hiking boots slung off the sides of his front panniers. He looked like a traveling shoe salesman. The East Germans we had met previously were thrilled to be able to travel freely, excited by the whole venture. Ralph was no exception. He regaled in the great trip he had taken this summer and especially recounted with fondness the hiking he had done in Norway's parks*. He was snapping loads of pictures and added us to his collection. He told us, "Before I took a picture I waited at a waterfall for a cloud to clear the sky. Just as it did, a whole bus load of Japanese tourists showed up and they spent the next half hour standing in front of the waterfall, clicking away." We arrived in Hatvik to jump across the fjord. The Norwegians appeared strict about air quality. On the ferry a sign read: No Under Overfarten. The view of blue fjords and towering mountains became commonplace. White waterfalls spilled off surrounding peaks. I could get used to this. A Spar store had a sale on ice cream nut-covered "Noors." Good thing products had pictures because I couldn't understand the labels anymore (even though I had been fooled in the past). Food cost about four times as much as home. Ten kilograms of flour was on sale for $16, two liters of ice cream $18, half-a-dozen eggs $3. Meat was so expensive I didn't even dare try to convert it. We went up a hill by a bathing spot with many blond and red-haired people. I shifted to my Granny gear and my chain blew off. I ripped off a handy raspberry leaf by the roadside and used it to put my chain back on, sans greasy fingers. We looked over at the splashing kids and Sharon decided it was time for a dip. Arriving at the beach people divulged, "We wondered if you would turn around. There was a big discussion." Sharon waded out about a hundred meters trying to find water deep enough to swim. The water was still only thigh high. Finally, she gave up and sat down. At six pm the sun ducked behind the mountain. An instant coolness descended. Everyone, except us, packed up and left. A summer home on top of the hill provided a bottle of water. A plastic cistern out back collected rainwater from their cabin roof. When the owner saw my pair of two-liter bottles she quivered, "I can fill one for you." We had discovered the only place in Norway with a water shortage. About nine pm I went back to the cabin and enquired if it would be all right if we camped down by the beach. According to local law in Norway, one could legally camp most anywhere for two nights, but we still felt it was polite to ask permission. "One night should be okay," they hesitantly decided. "The farmer doesn't mind people relaxing there, but he doesn't like them camping." |
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