The Northern Lights flickering over Norway

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July 23

Events in Norway
It is hard to just think of what happened yesterday in our former country of residence. The shooting at the youth camp resulted in a death toll of 84 young people, while the bombs in Oslo killed 7 people and injured many more.
The streets looked a lot like after a war attack in Beirut. The daughter of our friends is normally working in one of those offices, but was absent on Friday as she was participating in a meeting elsewhere.

Police has caught the killer, a 32 yr. old ethnic Norwegian who is a right-wing extremist. He operated disguised as a policeman and was brought over to the island by ferry. This terrible attack had nothing to do with islamic fanatism, as we all thought at first. He made the Oslo-bomb out of Ammonium Nitrate and Diesel fuel, which is of the same kind as was used in the Oklahoma City bombing. Today, and in the days to come Norwegian flags will be lowered to half staff, and the country will be under National mourning.Let us all pray for the families who have lost their loved ones.

Not our photo: Herring Cove

When we are in deep thoughts it often helps to take a walk. We went to the Ocean at Herring Cove. Here are the pictures which kind of mirror our thoughts.

Just a matter of time...

Resting Gulls

July 22


A very sad day in Norway
Don't feel like writing much. Today we received news from Norway, where we lived for 25 years. A major terror attack was committed today. After a bomb explosion at the Oil and Energy Department which rocked the city center of Oslo and killed 2 people, leaving many more bleeding in the streets, a second attack followed on a youth camp on the island of UTOYA at Tyrifjord, where many youngsters were gathered for their vacations. It is yet unclear how many of the kids were shot and killed. Police thinks that both crimes are connected. A terror group called Global Jihad has said they are standing behind those grueling events.


We have talked to our friends in Norway and they say their country is in a state of shock. Norway used to be a very peaceful country. All of a sudden that has changed.

With my life

Most people wouldn't assume that being a farmer would be all that dangerous. Yet a lot of things can happen on a farm.


I learned that the hard way, yet I was lucky every time. When another haying season was on, I was working the steep slope down below the farm buildings. By that time we had a tractor-driven hay rake. The only way I could negotiate the steep hill was by driving straight down and backing uphill again. So here I was on the top of the hill, preparing to go downhill again. I used to drive the tractor down by putting in the third gear LOW  That way I could drive down without using the brakes. However, this time, when I started on my way down, the tractor shot out from under me in an unknown speed. Within a split-second  I realized I had put in the 3. gear HIGH. I hit the brakes full force and the tractor careened to the left making a 90 degree turn. The force of the gravity was big enough to lift the left set of wheels off the ground. For a moment I was prepared to roll, but then the tractor plunged back onto all 4 wheels and --- stood!! I crawled up the hill on my knees.


There was a day during winter and I was working with the tractor and a forest winch to drive out strings of firewood, when the tractor got stuck in the deep snow. Neighbors had told me that I could work the tractor out of such a situation by cutting short pieces of firewood and tie them with a chain to the tire-chains.   So, of course I went ahead and tied a few pieces 3ft. long to the tire-chains. With the cab doors open I put the tractor into first gear and it got lifted up on top of the chunks of firewood. The next thing I knew was a loud crack and something  metallic flew through the cab from the left, exiting on the right side. When my mind cleared i noticed that my vision was blurred. In fact I could see very little at all. The reason was that my eyeglasses were gone! Instead, I had some snow in my face. I found my glasses by crawling on the right side of the tractor in the snow!  With my eyeglasses back where they used to be, (they were not broken!!!)  I investigated the reason for the incident, and found that a chain-link had broken and been catapulted through the tractor taking my glasses off my nose WITHOUT HITTING ME!  Had I gotten the chain-link to my skull, I would have shot myself.


Related to the same line of forest work, one fall I was pulling out big pine trees. I had gotten a much heavier tractor with a very powerful winch. I had fastened 50 yards of wire to a big chopped-down pine and was pulling it in. All of a sudden the wire stopped. Sometimes the tree got hooked behind a little bush and it just needed a little more pull, so I kept pulling. I pulled and pulled and nothing happened, until I heard a swish and a big bang, and here came the end of the steel wire crashing through the rear window of the tractor. Boy, it almost chopped off my head.


These little incidents could have been avoided, but I guess humans make mistakes and sometimes mistakes can be fatal. Some other times one is just lucky to make it.




Read more tomorrow: Digging it

Kayaking a Mountain Lake

If the winters could be kind of harsh we could sure have nice summers, even though some years they tended to be short-lived.  
During the summer of 1978 I had my brother coming up from Germany. It was the last weekend of my summer vacations when we decided to go exploring one of the most beautiful lakes in the area. We loaded up my two-seated kayak, the tent and kitchen gear with food for two days. The lake is called "Eikesdalsvatnet" (don't break your tung..) and even though being narrow, it is 18km (11miles)  long. With the VW-Camper parked and all the gear loaded into the boat we paddled across the calm waters and arrived on the other side about 3hrs. later. 


We pitched the tent on the gravel beach and thought life was just wonderful.
Sunday morning ran up with a deep blue sky and a mirror-like lake. After breakfast we took down the tent and repacked everything in the boat. We were looking forward to another leisurely trip across the water.


We had gotten across about two thirds of the lake when we noticed an upcoming noise. Looking around, we couldn't see anything suspicious - until we noticed white foam caps on the water approaching us rapidly from the far north side of the lake. It just took another few seconds and we were paddling in a boiling frenzy of crossing seas, taking in water over the sill with every wave. All of a sudden a fast-going motorboat came up from the rear. The driver was pointing to the land, and I understood that it would be the only way out of this for us. 


Now, if you have never seen that lake you wouldn't know how difficult it is to make landfall there. Right ahead of us the shoreline was made up by a steep rock wall, where the waves were now clashing high against the rocks. Slightly behind us, we had a similar situation, but there was an opportunity in between where a tiny little beach with smaller rocks and some gravel permitted a land fall. So we turned the boat and were now rapidly riding the waves towards that shore. Before the surf had thrown us on the rocks we jumped out of the boat and pulled it farther onto shore.


Exhausted from the strain we sat down on the gravel and watched the surf rolling ashore. We sat there for hours until I noticed the clock going onto 4pm. The wind didn't let up and there was no hope we could leave the place today. 
I started to ponder alternative ways of getting away from the shore. Next day was Monday and I was expected back to work. 


I knew that the lake ferry would come by at 6pm and stop at a little cabin from where hikers used to return by ferry. If we could make it to the cabin we could return by ferry to our van.
But looking up behind us I noticed the futility of leaving this place by foot. A steep wall was rising behind us, but maybe if I went through the bushes there might be a chance. We discussed the possibility and agreed that I should make an attempt to find a way up the wall. If a possible path could be found, I would come back for my brother. 


I started climbing, found a few crevices where I could find a hold for my hands and feet, and finally had to make a big jump over a sloping rock. Grasping for some branches I pulled myself over the edge and were now looking across a deep creek bed over to the cabin and the ferry landing. From here it would be peanuts to reach the cabin.


I retraced my steps, came down to my brother, and we stowed the boat and the whole gear under the bushes, then I climbed the same route back, followed by my brother. Again I jumped over the sloping rock and turned to face my brother. He was glancing across to my side but seemed undecided. I told him to jump and stuck out my arm to grab him, just in case.


When he jumped off, I lunged for him but  missed his hand by an inch. I stretched out further grabbing after him again and got a hold of his hand before he slid off the rock. With all my strength I pulled him up, and we both collapsed in a heap. If my brother would have been sliding of the rock he would have fallen at least 250 ft straight down to the water.


After regaining our senses we crossed the creek bed and made it in time to the last stop of the ferry.

The Ferry, after it was converted into a passenger boat

Next weekend we went back to fetch our camping gear and the boat. For that purpose we approached the captain of the ferry. Explaining the situation he started nodding. "Yeah", he said, "I have seen the boat on the shore and was wondering about it, but I can get you to the shore there so you can retrieve your stuff".

Farmhouse in the village of Eikesdalen

View over Eikesdalsvatnet

Since it was a weekend with fine weather the ferry had a lot of tourists on board. When the captain turned the ferry towards our little hide-out quite a few of them were wondering what was going on. Could it be the captain being drunk? Should there be reason to worry?  


We were only a few feet from the biggest rocks when the ferry went into reverse. We got our go-ahead and left the vessel at the front. We hardly got our feet wet and waved a hearty farewell to the captain and the curious tourists.




Read more tomorrow:  The Farm

Winter in Norway

It was in the beginning of September 1977, when I got the first taste of winter approaching the land. 
It was early in the morning and I had just brushed my teeth. Looking out of the little bathroom window  I saw that a white sugary layer of snow had covered the 87 peaks across the fjord. I had to look twice to believe it, then checking the date on the calendar. It showed the 5th of September. No doubt at all. However, the snow did not reach down into the valleys, it just covered the upper half of the mountains.  But the clouds had passed and a clear blue sky with a deep blue fjord underneath was throwing a stunning contrast to the rusty red forests along the mountain slopes.


That day I did a ride with my Camper VW up to Varden, a famous viewpoint above the city. Varden is about 400m (1300ft) over sea level and there was snow on the road when I reached the top.


Winter was near, no doubt and when we returned from our fall tour in late November, I bought a snow shovel. I shoveled snow like never before. Within the night the van was covered in 50cm (20inch) of heavy white snow.
I don't remember how often I got stuck in the snow with that vehicle, but it was quite frequently, until I bought studded tires. 


Shortly after I started in my job I had made some new friends. One sunny Sunday in the middle of the winter, these folks invited me for a cross-country ski tour. I had received skis from other friends a year earlier, but had never used them. 
We took the road I had been driving in September up the mountain, from there we walked cross-country to a mountain cabin where we had tea. After the break we started on our return.

Instead of upwards we now had to get ourselves down to the city again. With my friends way ahead I tried to keep up with them, but I struggled in some deep snow. Somehow my skis seemed too heavy, and I had trouble lifting them out of the snow.
Then we came to the point where the road  starts its descend to town. There were tracks from earlier skis. Two nice tracks beside each other. I stepped into the tracks and all of a sudden I was moving downhill. In the beginning it wasn't too fast, but with an increasing downgrade my speed increased disproportionately and I had no idea where the brakes where on this equipment. With the ever increasing speed I kind of hunkered down to milden the fall which seemed unavoidable. When i swished around a bend I saw my friends beside of the track, waiting for me. I was still exceeding the speed limit and I realized I had to stop here. So as I was passing them I simply made me fall backwards into the snow thereby destroying the fine ski tracks I had been following down hill. Needless to say my friends were dissolved in cramps of laughter.


With that experience I decided that I would seek out solitude for my next attempt of cross-country skiing.




Read more tomorrow: Kayaking a mountain lake

Up North - The first of 25 years

After 3 days on the road I reached the little coastal town of Molde about 300 miles north of the country's capital, Oslo. This was to be my home base for years to come. My job was as a stage technician at the local theater. After being introduced to the members of the group I was shown the work shop where all the technical backdrop for theater performances was build.


Molde is a beautiful town with a stunning view of over 80 mostly snow-capped mountain tops, a wide deep-blue fjord and a fresh atmosphere for a new-comer like me.

View across the Romsdals Fjord with Molde down below

After a few weeks in a cabin I found a place to live outside of town. My job gave me enough time to explore the surroundings. I climbed local mountain tops, went hiking along the rugged beach, and in late summer picked blueberries so I had enough for the entire winter. 

Our Crew in 1978

In the fall and before the first snow, the whole theater crew went traveling throughout the province. All technical 


equipment was stored in the rear of a bus, while we, the crew, were placed in the front. We traveled around every fjord, to every city and town which had a name of its own, and I learned Norwegian faster than I had ever expected.


One time we were booked onto an island way out from shore. That year a construction project for a bridge to the little island was underway. Before that, the crew had to unload the entire stage equipment onto a fish-trawler which brought the stuff across the channel. But that year we should avoid that extra work. We had phoned ahead and even though the bridge wasn't quite finished we should be able to cross over.


When we got across the bridge, the approach OFF the bridge was NOT finished yet, but construction workers knew how to help us across. They found a few strong wood planks and put those across the gap.
Now it was the challenge for the bus driver to make it across. For safety, all passengers had to leave the bus.


We must have had a good driver, as he made it across without running off the planks.


The Islanders, mostly fisher families, sure appreciated the play that evening. 


After the performance we stowed everything away in the bus and made it back to the bridge. It was pitch dark, and cautiously we got to the gap, which still hadn't been filled up. Looking for the wood planks we found them thrown aside in the darkness. Carefully, we placed them across the gap and one of us had to direct the rig over to the safety of the bridge. When the bus was almost across we heard some cracking noise. The planks were about to break on one side. We shouted to the bus driver to hurry up and he must have put the pedal to the metal as the bus jumped forward and the planks were catapulted out from under the rear wheels.


When the dust settled we found the bus safely on the bridge. We were all relieved and found a good nights sleep in our hotel beds an hour later.

Aerial view of  Molde

Read more tomorrow;  Winter in Norway