We were in a village in Norway called Arendal and were asked to the home of the father in law of Britt-Arnhild, my blogging friend. It was in a fairly large place along the southern coast of Norway but for some reason our GPS sent us to another so we ended up being 1 1/2 hours late for lunch. It was nice to have a home cooked meal after so long on the road. Her father in law, 88 years of age, made it all. He also exercises and could do more that we could-so much for my exercise program, not that I’ve done any since we left Paris.
The 88 year old. He gardened, cooked, worked out, made his own drinks and bottled berries. An amazing man. He didn’t speak any English but he was very good at making you understand him anyway. An incredible fact to me: he has never had alcohol in his life. What a great liver he must have.
We next headed to Stavanger. Because we stayed in a hotel outside of the city, we never visited it. It was one of those very tall towers-21 stories-and packed with busloads of tourists mostly from Russia. We also did something very stupid while there. We were totally out of underwear and sent some out to be cleaned as they had no laundry facilities there and we didn’t ask the price. Imagine our surprise when we found out that our laundry cost more than our hotel room. Rooky mistake. Anyway, we did a ferry trip out into the beautiful Lysef Fjord.
You run out of adjectives to use to discribe the beauty. It was just fabulous. There were no other boats on the water, the water was so smooth without a ripple. Walls of cliffs went up on each side-it was so tranquil and calm.
This is me after the climb to the top. A sign at the bottom said it was a two hour climb which I assumed meant one hour each way. Then I saw a “you are here” sign and realized that after one hour of climbing we were only half way there. After an hour I didn’t want to stop even though I was exhausted so somehow I made it. It was very much uphill and what made it so hard were the huge rocks and boulders I had to climb. They were hard to come down on too and on the way down I fell, bloodied my knew, put a hole in my jeans and, to add insult to injury, kept sort of rolling and stopped when I sat in a muddy puddle of water. My knees hurt for three days afterward. But I made it. What a view we had.
Maurice. Notice his totally wet shirt-it was a hot and humid day-and the guy jumping behind him. A lot of young people were having their photos taken this way. I couldn’t have jumped if my life had depended on it.
Everywhere we went in the countryside we saw these piles of rocks on top of boulders. I guess it sort of says, “I was here”. In this area, scraped clean by glaciers over hundreds of years, and leaving behind boulders, there were an unusually large amount of those piles.