The King of Elfland's Daughter

“… she crooned now a melody like a wind in summer blowing from wild wood gardens that no man tended, down valleys loved once by children, now lost to them but for dreams, a song of such memories as lurk and hide along the edges of oblivion, now flashing from beautiful years of glimpse of some golden moment, now passing swiftly out of remembrance again, to go back to the shades of oblivion, and leaving on the mind those faintest traces of little shining feet which when dimly perceived by us are called regrets..."

 

~~~~

 

“The King of Elfands Daughter” is a fantasy story first published by Lord Dunsany back in 1924. It inspired Neil Gaiman, to the point that he wrote the introduction to Del Rey's 1999 publication of the novel. In it Gaiman praises the beauty of the writing,  it’s honest portrayal of magic's repercussions in the non-magic world, and how a tale full of magic somehow manages to keep “its feet well planted on the ground”. At it’s end he states“Perhaps this book should come with a warning: it is not a reassuring, by-the-numbers fantasy novel … This is the real thing. It is a rich red wine..." He encourages all to "Trust the book. Trust the poetry and the strangeness, and the magic of the ink, and drink it slowly.” This intro was included in Gaiman’s “The View from the Cheap Seats”, which is how I learned of this golden tale and after a description such as that how could I not seek this book out? I now add that piece to the long, twirling list of reasons why I am grateful for Neil Gaiman.

For from the story's first page dedication “To Lady Dunsany” to the final shining page of magic, this book has charmed me entirely and completely. It is a story about life and hope and dreams. A cautionary tale to be careful what you wish for. It rings with true love, the loss of it, and the timeless pursuit to find it once more. It is the genuine fairy tale, one seeped with magic and unicorns and a mischievous troll called Lurulu. The story alone would be enough to captivate, but Lord Dunsany's use of writing is so rich with magnificent wonder, he has made it impossible to not become lost inside it forever. Every sentence is poetry, sung into story form. Every page made more beautiful by the magic each individual word holds and the dreams that they together invoke.

In short,  “The King of Elflands Daughter” is full of people and places that I have fallen utterly, absolutely in love with. It is a treasure of the truest kind and one I could not recommend strongly enough.

Aftermath

Shocked. Horrified. Incredibly saddened. I am struggling so hard right now to accept what this country has just done. Grasping to make sense of the hate so many people have allowed to take over their hearts for them to choose as they have. It makes me wish I wasn't part of this species called human, that I was a "lesser" animal instead. Sure they hunt, they cause pain, they kill; but at least with them it's due to instinct and survival and that is so much better than hatred. How can America be great when hatred is it's foundation?

 

As a woman I feel my worth and importance has been diminished. I can actually sense - for the first time ever - that thick bulletproof glass ceiling hovering just inches above my head, waiting to knock me down should I dare jump to high. I walked outside this morning - it blocked out the stars, sitting by my desk now - still there, laying in my bed last night- it was suffocating. How long will it last, will it ever fully fade?

 

Driving to work this morning on a four lane highway bogged down with traffic, hearing the promise of pollution in the air quality report, I looked at the future and felt cold fear twisting my stomach. It's still there, I expect it to be there, celebrating it's cruel victory, for a long time to come. I can barely take a breath without the threat of tears and I believe that it will be years before a true deep breath of comfort and safety will fill my lungs again. I am terrified for this country.

 

I wish, so very much that I could escape this world. I don't know how to process this new reality, don't know how to imagine a country where this is possible, much less live in it. I don't even know how to think anymore. I just don't know.

Loss

“It is one of my personal beliefs that when you miss someone you can find them in the mountains”

Synge is gone.

Friday went about as well as could be expected for all that was involved. She had a really good last day. There was much scrambling of eggs and opening of tuna cans. I curled up with her when she wanted me to and just sat beside her on the kitchen floor (her preferred spot) when she didn’t. For a bit Faelina even snuggled up next to her and fell asleep; I hadn’t seen them together like that for a while and it warmed my troubled heart to be able to see it one last time. And outside influences aside, she seemed to be much more content than I’d witnessed for weeks.

I held up fairly well. When I was home with her I managed to stay fairly calm with only a few teary eyed moments. But around noon I had to go into work, when I gave her a goodbye kiss I lost it and cried the whole way to Benchmark. I managed to pull myself together and arrived home a couple hours later with clear eyes. At that point our time together was down to mere hours. I fed her more of her favorites and then just sat, stroking her silky soft fur until Steph showed up. With Steph driving I decided to forgo the cat kennel; I didn’t want her to be stressed. Instead I wrapped her up in her favorite purple blanket, told her we were going on one last adventure and then held her in my lap as we drove off. An hour later she was gone.

As I pulled myself back into Steph’s van after I was drained, empty. I had no idea what to do or say. I was struggling to process what new reality the world had just become. I’m so grateful that Stephanie was able to come with me, was there, because not only did she keep me from having to do this impossibly hard thing alone, she knew what to say after to give me comfort and something to hold onto.  She said “It is one of my personal beliefs that when you miss someone you can find them in the mountains”. She said when we lose someone that is where they always go. They seek out a spot that is peaceful and quiet and wait for you to come find them. I stared up at the mountains the whole way home.

Yesterday I went up to Adams Canyon. It was my first hike in a week and I rejoiced in the hard climb that led me up into the mountain. At a spot a few minutes away from the waterfall I stopped.  There I sat, looking through the trees and over the rocks. I could envision her – whole, happy, and healthy – slinking through the underbrush and peeking down from a rock high above me. I could almost feel her curled up in my arms.

I miss her so much but now I know that she’s not gone for good. She’s just up in the mountains, curled up sleeping in the quiet spaces, waiting for me to come find her.  

 

French Doors, Mountain Falls, Harry Potter and Eggs

It's been awhile, just past a month. My lack of posts aren't due to a sudden loss of interest in writing; rather it's that almost the second I landed in the US, my days were transformed into a frenzied whirlwind of busyness, so much so that I have a hard time catching my breath at times, much less writing. For the most part this fall has been a sparkling waterfall of happiness, but just recently that waterfall grew darker with one sliver of icy sadness. So what has been happening? Well....

To start off I finally, after almost a year in Utah, have moved into my own place! It's a little two bedroom, two bathroom mobile home on Main st. in Layton. It could not be more different from my Brunswick apartment. In some ways it’s a wonderful dissimilarity (I have more space, much nicer features and fixtures, I’ll be warmer in the winter), but in others I’m filled with nostalgic sadness as I remember the charm and history of my old place that just cannot be recreated. And Layton's Main street, well, let's just say it's not my favorite, especially when I look back on the bustling magic of Brunswick’s. Still, I love my new little home. I love the freedom of having my own time and space back. I love the quietness. I have very little in the way of furniture and I honestly love that, the lack of stuff makes my whole life feel less cluttered. My favorite part of the whole place is my master bathroom, more specifically the French doors that open up into it. They add a touch of luxurious glamour to life that I quite enjoy. The rest of the bathroom is pretty great too, like amazing, especially when compared to my old place (those of you in the know will remember how much that bathroom needed help). And since I don't have a need for an actual second bedroom, I am in the process of turning that second room into my very own ….. LIBRARY!! Seriously a dream come true! That could take another month or two though as I’ve been slowly, meanderingly making my way through all my possessions to get everything arranged and where I want it to be. Part of that can be chalked up to my own indecision of what I actually do want but mostly it's because I've been spending a lot of my free time out wandering up mountain canyons.

My visit to Norway was amazing in thousands of ways. One of the biggest was that every day without exception, I was outside. My lungs, skin and mind were awarded constant access to fresh air and I ended my trip rejuvenated and refreshed to so great a degree that I realized just how much my lack of outdoor adventures in Utah was negatively affecting me. As I sat on the plane back to the US I vowed to change, promised myself explore more. Thankfully it hasn’t been that hard of a promise to keep. There is a hiking trail close to home that follows the river of Adams Canyon up a glorious waterfall. It's a tough hike, especially the first little bit (someone described it once as trying to run on the beach - uphill), but spectacularly beautiful. I’ve been going about 3-4 times a week; most days I just go a short ways up the trail before turning around, but at least once a week I’ll dash my way up to the waterfall (and by dash I mean very slowly trudge up the sandy hills and rocky paths). Always, without fail I return to my car - and life - with a relaxed and happy soul, ready to take on the world. My hope is to soon find other trails to wander down, maybe find another waterfall or two.  

There have also been a few other things keeping me preoccupied, the two best being Harry Potter and Neil Gaiman. I’ll start with Potter first. Back in April (at least I think it was April), Steph and I went on a hike. We had a fabulous time and talked about many things, one of which was throwing several theme parties for the kids over the summer. We had lots of ideas and picked three, the best of which (in my humble opinion) was a Harry Potter party. We planned this one for last and at the time our scheduled date seemed so far away I felt it’d never come.  But come it did, last Saturday, October 15^th when the boys and Faith woke up to find Hogwarts acceptance letters (their first thought was a trip to Universal Studios in CA, which gave me a bit of guilt). They were given Harry Potter glasses to don and then sat beneath floating candles to be sorted – by the actual Sorting Hat from the movies – into their houses (we had two Gryffindor’s, two Hufflepuffs, and a Slytherin!). They picked and painted wands, played Quidditch with a slightly different set of rules than the books, and had their fortunes told with a crystal ball! They indulged on treats of chocolate frogs, licorice wands, cauldron cakes, Droobels Best Blowing Gum, and Butterbeer. It was fun, laughter filled hilarity and I was so psyched throughout every single second of it!

Neil Gaiman’s turn now. This man is my absolute favorite living author (Charlotte Bronte still remains my all-time favorite) and earlier this year he published a new book “The View from the Cheap Seats”. It’s a compilation of essays, speeches, introductions etc… that he has written over the last few decades. The Granades, incredible friends that they are, and knowing just how big a fan I am, gifted me this book for my birthday. A couple weeks ago, after finishing “The Prisoner of Heaven” by Carlos Ruiz Zafon (someday I’m going to have to share just how much I love him too), my eyes fell upon the cover of Gaiman’s book and the time just felt right for me to read it. At first I was a little skeptical on whether I’d enjoy it as much as I have all his other works, because it was non-fiction, a genre that tends to be a little more difficult for me to fall into. A few essays in I felt as though I’d walked through the gates of literary heaven and was surprised at just how much fun this book was to read because, again, non-fiction. Then I realized that I’d been an idiot from the start because it was Neil Gaiman who wrote everything, so obviously it would have pulled me into it’s spell, just like everything else he has done. Now, with fewer than 40 pages to read (out of 502) my feelings towards this book have only grown more positive. I got to learn his insights on his approach the art of storytelling; was told just how strongly he believes in the importance of books and reading. I discovered which authors, artists and musicians inspired him growing up, and which of those still wow him today. The passion in his words has instantly jumped them all at the top of my “To Read” list, and I can’t wait to get started! Neil Gaiman is a magical genius and I swear that each time he picks up a pen to write the page he touches turns to pure gold. For anyone who loves Neil Gaiman novels, for all of you who dream about writing yourselves, I cannot recommend this book strongly enough!

And now I come to the icy sliver of sadness I mentioned earlier, Synge. I’ll start first some upbeat news. Faelina, I’m happy to report is thrilled beyond meows to have a new place to create havoc in. She gallops the length of the house several times day, chasing every light, shadow and (to me) invisible creature that catches her eye. She pulls towels down from the hooks delightedly, jumps onto the kitchen counters with impossible glee (because she knows how much I hate that), peeks into the oven with devious curiosity, guards the window with pride, and when all that's done collapses in happy exhaustion upon whatever spot feels comfortable to her at the time. In short, she is back to her little sparkly fairy self (sometimes with a touch of demon thrown in).  It breaks my heart to say that Synge's story has not read well.

During our first few weeks at the house she did seem much more content. She had lost a little weight while I was gone but an increase in insulin and (at the vet's suggestion) the addition of a nightly scrambled egg seemed to be helping. But last weekend I looked at her and saw a change; one that was stark and severe and made my heart grow cold. She'd lost more weight (even though all she does it seems is eat), she wasn’t grooming herself; each footstep she took shook, and she sometimes stumbled when standing up. I thought through this with fear. I picked up the phone and asked my mom for advice. I drove to the clinic after work to talk with the vet. I cried, a lot. At the end of it all, I made an appointment for this Friday and, barring a much needed miracle of sudden health, that is when I will wrap her in my arms, give her one final kiss and let her slip into peace.

It’s a situation that sucks. It’s the worst, crummiest part of pet ownership. It’s knowing what you have to do but still questioning, second guessing everything you know to be the right thing because you so badly, desperately, ache to be wrong. Synge has been with me through so much, was my comfort in every struggle for 10 years, and the idea of not having her with me hurts like a razor sharp, bone crushing hell. But it's not about me anymore; it's about her and what she needs. My mom helped me come to the conclusion that I owe it to her to let her go with some dignity, to not wait until she is in constant discomfort. So this is what I must do.

My goal will be to spoil her as much as possible this week. Outside of work I’ll be sticking fairly close to home and I’ll take most of Friday off work. She’s getting extra scrambled eggs every night and lots of canned food and tuna fish, something she has shown great enthusiasm for. I brush her every night because I can tell it’s one of the few things that still bring her pleasure. I’m very sad. My whole body just wants to break down and cry. I feel like I’ve let her down because I couldn’t keep her healthy (I know it’s not true but that doesn’t change anything). Again though it’s not about me, it’s about Synge. Even if I haven’t let her down, I will be if I keep her alive to make life easier for me.

So yeah, that’s where I’m at in life. Obviously for the next few weeks life will be covered with a tinge of blue, understandable I think. I’ll focus on keeping busy. I should be able to; after all I still have a house to set up, mountains to find, and a whole new reading list to dive into. And I like to believe, hope, that Synge will still be with me, even if it’s no longer in this physical realm. She has without doubt been the best cat; I am so grateful that of all the people in this world she chose me to be her person.
 

Farvel for Nå

I find myself once more on the eve of yet another incredible Norwegian adventure. How do I feel about this? There are thousand ways I could answer but they would all boil down to one thing - I don't want to leave. My heart is screaming at me to NOT set foot onto my return plane, it's begging me to stay. I feel like I'm leaving Alaska an act that, as I've written in the past, I do not handle well. I wish a move to Norway were just as simple as just packing up my stuff, putting myself and the cats on a plane, and then figuring out the rest from once I landed. Unfortunately switching countries is a touch trickier than switching states, otherwise I'd be doing that exact thing right now.

There was quite a bit on this trip that the was same as last year - the house, the pets (albeit with a few more health issues), my favorite haunts in the Stavanger Sentrum, the old candle factory, the walking trails by the house, the need to be outside as much as possible, and of course the jaw dropping beauty that is everything Norway. There were differences too though that gave this particular experience it's own unique flavor....

After the initial jolt I got my first night with the sun actually setting and black night taking over; I enjoyed the way Stavanger's city lights shone through the darkness. I LOVED that I got to see a golden moon rising so many nights in a row. Last year my raincoat was pretty much a daily necessity, this time around it's the sun that has reigned. I remember how much the airs dryness delighted me last July but now, after living in a desert for a year, I am acutely aware of the moisture in the air and it's silky softness sets me smiling. The presence of bugs has been noticed a bit more this time too, of course last year they were so rare they were almost invisible so this change has only been the tiniest of tiny nuisances. The best changes though were the new places I got to add to my life story - Store Stokkavatn, Hålandsvatnet, Tungenes lighthouse, stepping inside the Domkirke, Vårlivarden, Helleren, Bjørndalsfjellet ,and of course the beyond beautiful Viglesdalen.

But with so many things in land that I still want to do - need to do; when there are so many hidden treasures my heart still has yet to discover;  how can I go when I do know when, or even if, I'll ever be back. My friends move back to Alaska this month, which means that there will be no future incredible, too good to be true housesitting opportunities. If I want to come back it's on me to make it happen. So I guess I have a new project to work on because, well, I have to come back I don't really have a choice. Just like Alaska, Norway has imprinted itself upon my soul, so whether it takes me six months or six years I will one day return. For now, Norway, takk for turen, til vir møtes igjen!

~

Viglesdalen

Katy came home Sunday afternoon so that she could see the pets, get some laundry done and run a few errands before she and Joe flew off to their next adventure this morning (Joe went to Oslo to check out the 'big city'). She told me that since she'd be home all day Monday I was free to take off, to be gone all day, basically to do whatever I wanted to do. The first thing I did was head to the website of Outdoorlife Norway. Since my Kjerag hiking experience with that company had been so sensational last year I was eager to see if another would be possible. Sadly Monday was either his day off or the hike scheduled for the day was already full because nothing was available. So sent me back to the planning drawing board which was basically two main questions. Did I want to go for a long drive to see some place I otherwise wouldn't be able to - a Stave Church would be really cool - or did I want to go for a long hike. Katy recommended Viglesdalen, a hike in the Hjelmeland area that she really loved which sparked my memory into recalling another hike in that region that my Outdoorlife Norway guide had recommended - Reinaknuten. I decided to shoot for Reinaknuten and was on the road early with coffee in hand, hiking gear in the passenger seat beside me, excited for my adventure.

Well the good news - I couldn't find the trailhead for Reinaknuten. I say good news because if I had then I never would have never hiked Viglesdalen and Viglesdalen is holy god, super fantastic, absolutely AMAZING!!! (And FYI, I'm not the only one who couldn't find Reinaknuten, Katy's tried 3 times with no success).

The trail starts in a parking lot of the small, tiny town Nes. The first few minutes had me walking through a small farm full of sheep before veering upwards into a rocky forest. There are a lot of rocks on this hike, almost non-stop rocks, but there are very few parts that have you going up a steep incline so I rarely felt the precarious fear that one misstep could send me sliding down into disaster.

Also on the first half of the trail there is a fair amount of water i.e. puddles, fairy rivers etc... but again since I was moving up into the mountains so gradually it didn't really bother me too much because the trail was laced with mind blowing, drop dead gorgeous waterfalls. There were small waterfalls that barely were higher than my head, then tall thin waterfalls that started way up at the mountains top, and then there were the waterfalls - Sendingsfossen, Hiafossen and Granefossen - that roared down the center of the valley and had me stopping for pictures every few seconds because each new step had me thinking I couldn't possible see a more beautiful sight only to be disproven a few seconds later with the next step. Those waterfalls alone would have made the whole hike worth it but, unbelievably, the best part was yet to come!

I left the falls behind about an hour and a half in and shortly after came to a stone bridge hanging over the, now quiet, river that looked so much like something out of a fairytale that I could envision rolls crossing over heading to their kingdom. After crossing it myself however, I saw a small sign The bridge was built to make it easier for the farmers of Viglesdalen to herd their sheep. It's first stones were laid by Swedish laborers in 1907 and they completed it at last in 1912. Prior to the bridge the sheep herders had to cross the lake by boat in order to reach their sheep, an undertaking that was precarious at best. In 1874 a boat capsized drowning the four shepherd and nine year old girl who had been on board. After this particular event the Viglesdalen became known as a "spooky place". It was ultimately abandoned in 1883 with the farmers heading down the valley into Nes.
sharing the bridges true story.

Soon after the bridge I got a tricky glimpse of the buildings that were my ultimate destination. I say tricky because it took a good hour of hiking before I would actually reach them. The trail then turned into a sprawl of rock screes that sang of avalanche possibilities on my left. I was to busy though paying attention to the lovely blue waters of the lake and tall dark canyon walls on my right to be too nervous about my left. Finally I stepped out the rocks and into a huge grassy meadow with five red buildings a few hundred feet in front of me. The valley was quiet, the breeze soft, the sun shining sweetly. I was mesmerized by the calm beauty that encircled me and was filled with a calm deeper than I could have ever imagined.

I walked forwards towards the structures, loving the Norwegian charm of their grass covered roofs and dark wood doors. The first two buildings were locked but a small gate let me into the enclosure of the other three, the ones that are open to the public. All along the valleys and mountains of Norway are cabins that the country's trekking association maintains for it's hikers. They are furnished with beds and blankets, chairs and tables, dishes for cooking/eating, and food to eat.

There is chopped firewood for heat and signs directing you to the nearest source of water. The cabins are left open year round and anyone is able to stop and stay a night or two. Before they leave the guests will complete a form with their information and slip it into a locked box so that the association can note who was there and charge them for their stay. It's a system that has been in place for decades and - largely thanks to Norwegian's honesty - it works. The cabin at Viglesdalen is the associations oldest, first established in 1931 it was built upon the foundation of one of the farms abandoned structures. There is actually a second cabin (in case there's a lot of hikers in one night) and a separate building for the outhouse.

I was absolutely in love with the cabin and enchanted with the idea of staying there. In theory I could have hiked out Sunday night and done just that and I'm still kicking myself for letting that opportunity slip away. Who knows, maybe someday.

Hikers have the option of continuing past Viglesdalen to what I'm sure are more magnificent, magical surroundings. I wanted to go down that trail, I never wanted to turn back. But just the trip to the cabins was 7 kilometers and 3 hours; I knew that it was time for me to return to the car and reality. The journey back was a repeat of what I've just describe. It was beyond enchanting and by the time my footsteps hit the Nes parking lot I was completely and utterly in love. And the whole time I was on the trail - a full six hours - I didn't see a single person, it was just the icing on the cake to a perfect adventure. I have found my Norwegian Eagle River Nature Center. It is a place I will dream of always, a valley that will fill my dreams until I can one day return.

I decided to head north for one other quick excursion (which I'll write about another time) before heading back down Route 13 towards home. In my rearview mirror I could see the sun saying goodbye as right in front of me the moon rose over indigo mountains. It was the biggest moon I think I have ever seen in my life, the perfect end to a perfect day.

~

A Week of Wonder

I can't believe I have already been in Stavanger for a week. The past seven days have been magnificent and if I had it my way these next seven days would turn into seven years. I never want to leave! When I left Utah for Norway I had the assumption that my time here would be spent mostly at the house with a few 1-2 hour adventures close by. When I got here though my friends told me that I while I couldn't take off for an entire day of hiking I did have a bit more flexibility with time than I'd assumed. This means that short hikes nearby are in and I'm even able to take some drives to old favorites (see Tuesday's post about Byrkjedalstunet) and possible find a few new ones. Here are some of the things I've been up to this past week.... 

Monday - Store Stokkavatn

The description in the Stavanger tourist book is as follows "Stavanger's largest lake, Store Stokkavatn, is situated approx. 2,5 km west of the town center. It once supplied much of the town's drinking water, but in recent years has been replaced by other sources, with facilities now being on standby."

This was one both Katy and Joe recommended as a great place to for a nice and easy walk in the fresh air. They were right! The approximately 8km path is wide, paved, and fairly even. The lake is constantly by you on one side with houses, parks, and golf courses your view on the other (just FYI I didn't see a single golf cart, all the golfers walked). I had gone this past Monday, a day that was quite sunny and warm, but there is enough in the way of tall trees offering shade to keep you comfortable throughout the walk.

Just before the lakes halfway point I came across a small wooden building perched just net to a small brook. There was a sign posted on a tree close by and I stood trying to make sense of the Norwegian words on it when I heard a voice behind me. I turned to find an old man whose face was remarkable similar to the one a picture on that tree trunk sign. It turned out that's because they were one and the same and the old man was in charge of the building which he explained was an ancient corn mill from the 1800s. He had just finished locking it up (he'd been giving a demonstration to some school kids) but he opened the door once more to let me look inside and see how things worked. I would attempt to describe it all but am pretty sure I would bungle it so much even I'd be confused so please just take me at my word when I say it's really cool and I'm very grateful to that man for taking time to show me.

~

Wednesday - Dalsnuten

Dalsnuten was my first Norwegian hike last year and I like the symmetry of it being my first this time as well. Last year the sun shown like a diamond and the trail was full of numerous hikers and sheep alike, not so much this Wednesday with the sun playing a never ending game of hide and seek behind gray clouds and few hikers were around (I only saw a couple sheep way off in the distance). I almost preferred it that way though. The few hikers I did pass put me to shame since they were either a) RUNNING up the mountain or b) outstripping me so fast they could have been running - and most appeared a bit older than me. When I did reach the summit the view blew me away just like last time. I stood for a few minutes, gazing at the sights surrounding me before guiding my footsteps back down the mountain, with a happy heart as it breathed in fresh mountain air.

~

Thursday - Helleren

I decided to take it easy on Thursday and go for a drive. I headed south towards Egersund and the Sokndal region. It was not a short trip but throughout it's entirety the sights surrounding me enchanted. At times they were pure European wonder,  at others the woods met fairytale promises, and in one or two spots there was even a hint of the road I used to take back in Maine on Sundays when I'd drive to Grafton Notch or White Mountain National Forest for a hike. At last after many twists and turns, ups and downs, and many quietly whispered "wow"s, I reached my intended destination - Helleren.

These are two houses rest beneath a huge rock overhang that has provided them with shelter since the early 1800s. So great is the protection of the mountain that the houses do not even have proper roofs - it was never needed. The last families to call these two structures home left in the 1920s, but the country has preserved them as an important reminder of Norwegian history. While clearly not livable, the houses are in remarkable condition. I say remarkable because they are open at any time, on any day, to anyone who wants to visit. There are no visitor hours, no guards, no locks; there is just a country that trusts visitors will carefully wander through without causing any damage. The red house was closed for repairs - primarily the steps leading up to the door were no longer safe for a humans weight. The blue house was open and when I opened that door I stepped back in time. My steps echoed with the history of the lives who had lived there, cooked food in the large pot on the fire, discussed farm chores in the small front room, and slept in the bedroom upstairs (I peeked in there but didn't feel super secure in the stability of the floor so I didn't stay long). It was a magnificent experience to have such a clear picture of what life was like back in those days.

My drive to Helleren had taken me a little longer than Google Maps had promised me so I didn't do much dallying on the way back as I wanted to get the dogs their lunch on time. I did though pull into a (free!) parking lot in Egersund and speed (on foot) towards Sjokoladehjorna A/S, one of the towns two chocolate factories. I had visited this place last year but been too afraid to let myself taste anything, not this year I decided. I picked out a truffle and took an Americano takeaway. My truffle of choice was a dark chocolate shell with a smooth and creamy mint filling that practically sparkled on the tongue and put to shame every mint truffle I've had up to now. The Americano wasn't that bad either!

~

Friday - Fjogstadnuten

My second hike of the trip took place yesterday at Fjogstadnuten. The first kilometer of this trail is actually the same as Dalsnuten. It's not quite as high as Dalsnuten - 295moh vs 323moh - and the trail is a bit longer. These two factors combined make for a less steep, fairly easy climb to the summit, I was almost never out of breath. The sun was out in greater force but a constant breeze helped keep me cool. This trail is not quite as popular as Dalsnuten and I only met a couple of people along the way; no runners this time which helped me not feel quite so pathetic! Overall it was a short, pleasant jaunt in the wilds of Norway that I would most definitely recommend to anyone. When I reached the parking lot afterwards I saw a fairly old man (I'd guess late 80s) just hanging out in a little motorized wheelchair. He was talking to a few other people so I assumed that it was him but then saw him break off and head down the very steep road I had driven up to get to said parking lot. I passed him a little bit later and saw a smile on his face as I passed, the perfect example of Norwegians' toughness and love for the 'friluftsliv'!

~

No big adventure today. The weather was full of rain, rain and more rain, so I spent the morning shopping in Sandnes and the afternoon walking around Stavanger where I finally got to step inside the doors of the Stavanger Domkirke! I haven't decided yet what I'm doing tomorrow much less the rest of the week but I have not doubt that it'll be amazing. Well of course it will be, I'm in Norway!