Action-man, 8 June, Preikestolen, Norway
My hands smell like roots and tree bark and moss. We are on our way home from climbing Preikestolen fjord. I write in the back seat of Glenn's BMW.
Glenn, Drew, and I left the house in Skudeneshavn this morning at 6:10 for a 6:10 ferry. Glenn sped, risking his license, and we arrived moments before the ship launched. Glenn brought breakfast, and we sat near some men who work with oil in the North Sea. Glenn told us that oil saved Norway. Before World War II, Norway was a poor country. Even Brazil sent gifts to help.
Glenn is good at talking with strangers; therefore, he has friends all over the world. We are a case in point. He has spent hundreds of Norwegian Kroners on us. Glenn is attent to every detail of our comfort--the volume in his car, the air conditioning, our beds, breakfast, wake-up time. Glenn is also a good thinker. He reads and travels a lot, but most importantly, he listens and asks good questions.
We took two ferries. The roads to lonely Preikestolen became more and more narrow. The tunneled passages outnumbered the open road. Beautiful bridges with double arches help connect the rugged west coast of Norway. We hiked for two hours, climbing steep banks and over boulders. We crossed plains of rock that looked like the Giants' battlefield in the Silver Chair. We walked on the brim of dark pools of mountain water. We crossed marshy spots on wooden walkways. We didn't see any wildlife, only hikers and trees and flowers. Only hearty trees and plants survive the tough ground of rock and dirt.
The view at the top of the fjord was beyond comparison. On our side of the fjord were sheer cliffs. Drew and I stretched out and set our heads on the edge for a view. Across the fjord, across a sea of fog, I could see the tops of black mountains.
Nine out of ten Norwegian girls is good-looking. And the sun shines for 21 hours of the day. So at midnight, the sky looks like 8:15 in Iowa.
Sam
Glenn, Drew, and I left the house in Skudeneshavn this morning at 6:10 for a 6:10 ferry. Glenn sped, risking his license, and we arrived moments before the ship launched. Glenn brought breakfast, and we sat near some men who work with oil in the North Sea. Glenn told us that oil saved Norway. Before World War II, Norway was a poor country. Even Brazil sent gifts to help.
Glenn is good at talking with strangers; therefore, he has friends all over the world. We are a case in point. He has spent hundreds of Norwegian Kroners on us. Glenn is attent to every detail of our comfort--the volume in his car, the air conditioning, our beds, breakfast, wake-up time. Glenn is also a good thinker. He reads and travels a lot, but most importantly, he listens and asks good questions.
We took two ferries. The roads to lonely Preikestolen became more and more narrow. The tunneled passages outnumbered the open road. Beautiful bridges with double arches help connect the rugged west coast of Norway. We hiked for two hours, climbing steep banks and over boulders. We crossed plains of rock that looked like the Giants' battlefield in the Silver Chair. We walked on the brim of dark pools of mountain water. We crossed marshy spots on wooden walkways. We didn't see any wildlife, only hikers and trees and flowers. Only hearty trees and plants survive the tough ground of rock and dirt.
The view at the top of the fjord was beyond comparison. On our side of the fjord were sheer cliffs. Drew and I stretched out and set our heads on the edge for a view. Across the fjord, across a sea of fog, I could see the tops of black mountains.
Nine out of ten Norwegian girls is good-looking. And the sun shines for 21 hours of the day. So at midnight, the sky looks like 8:15 in Iowa.
Sam
posted by Unknown at 5:40 PM
1 Comments:
Sam, this place sounds like a dream. Very quaint and lord of the ringish.. I liked your last paragraph. Made me laugh. I read it aloud to the family, seated in our living room.
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