Identifier: norwaycontaining00fore (find matches)
Title: Norway in 1848 and 1849: containing rambles among the fjelds and fjords of the central and western districts; and including remarks on its political, military, ecclesiastical, and social organization
Year: 1850 (1850s)
Authors: Forester, Thomas
Subjects:
Publisher: London : Printed for Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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nt of its northern shore, we pursuedas nearly as possible its exact outline, following allthe sinuosities of bay and promontory which the shorepresented. This mode of progress, though it gavesuch variety to the effects of the scenery, and di-versified the points of view of the reaches of the lakeand the mountain ranges on both its banks, wasvery fatiguing. Our track crossing the ridges, whicheither overhung or stretched into the lake, was asuccession of ups and downs, and rugged in the ex-treme. Having by my exertions at the Rjukan onthe preceding day renewed an old hurt in one of myankles, which had become exceedingly swollen andpainful, I was compelled to have frequent recourse tothe assistance of the horse which carried our traps.But the ribs of the pack-saddle were sharp and pro-minent, and his action was so rough, and the animalso writhed and twisted his limbs in picking his wayover the ledges and fragments of rock, that the ridewas even more wearisome and painful than the march.
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ITS CHARACTER OF SECLUSION. 115 We often crossed ridges at an angle of from forty tosixty degrees; and to preserve ones seat under thosecircumstances, either in ascending or descending, isno easy matter. Occasionally we had the relief ofcoming down on the shore and crossing some littlebay at the waters edge. How beautiful were thoseyellow strands of pebbly or sandy beach! Howgentle the ripple of the tiny waves as they broke insoft murmurs against the water line of the cliffs! The Mios Vand, says Derwent Conway *, is theideal of seclusion and repose. Xo house upon itsbanks, no boat upon its bosom, no flocks strayingupon its slopes, no voice of herdsmen, no tinklingsound of bells; nothing but the small ripple, the oc-casional plunge of a fish, the cry of some bird of prey.The lake sleeps in the bosom of the hills, calmlymirroring their woods and pinnacles; and even thelittle wandering cloud, that is imaged on its depths,seems to have paused above it. This is truly and finely said, and l

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