Dovrefjell from train. Moors. Moose is not visible
Another one. Rocks and snow. Not very inviting
Moved picture of Dovrefjell from train
Nice compound of farms along the road”
Now from the other side
An old timer (pic for friend Wil Sp.)
Flower that I don’t recognize
Here also problems with the infrastructure (barbed wire). Fortunately I am not the only one
Once more
Over there, far away, I am supposed to cross
I doubt if that is possible
Refuge against the rain, in front of a supermarket. Not really cozy.
Now the other way
Sitting in front of a super market, waiting for the train while in Dombass it is raining
Getting a ride. You bet. Nothing. Dear son called this morning that a cow had calved and he could not get away. O.K. with me, I’ll have a nice 16 km. walk to the train station in Dombas. Hence I’ll cross the snowy Dovrefjell, to Oppdal in one hour by train. After such a short day like yesterday walking was a pleasure again.
Only, upon arriving in Dombas rain began to pour. Meanwhile I had found the station , outside the village after some walking up and down the village and after asking. I made a phone call to my two favorite night hostals (favorate depending on the price), but both times no answer. Does this pilgrim teasing never stop? According to my guide “Open all year”, but in reality sometimes still closed. I will arrive in Oppdal only in the evening and it does not appeal to me having to look for may be a few hours and perhaps in the rain for an overnight stay, which might also turn out much more expensive than I had intended, and where I should plead again for Tosca. On verra (we’ll see).
Meanwhile, I am sitting on a bench outside, under a canopy in front of a supermarket that is open, writing, waiting for the downpour to stop at a temp. of certainly not above 7 degrees C. (Photo). At moments like this, I think: Norway, beautiful scenery, nice people, but the weather … Though everyone is saying that this time of the year it is usually beautiful. Probably a matter of perception. One gets the weather one deserves.
Almost 1.30 PM. I put my backpack in a locker at the station and return to the village to do some shopping. You never know for sure whether you’ll find a place to stay tonight and what to eat, there in Oppland. After all, it is Pentecost. After some phone calls I find an reasonable place to stay. I ask the price. Although acceptable, I ask whether this is the cheapest. Next he still lowers the price. Voilà. While the rain keeps poaring I write my blog on draft (photo). Next I go to the conditorei where I want to convey my blog to the site, but wifi always falls away. That doesn’t hurry. Especially the pictures on the blog take a lot of time. A lady sitting outside the conditorei, smoking, together with her father asks interested if I’m on vacation. How can people see that anyway? I tell my standard story. She expresses a few ooh’s and ah’s and that was the end of our conversation.
6:06 pm I was going to leave Dombas by train to Oppdal, a major break with my walking principle. Three days of walking be beaten at once, just to save my ass. Again this reminded of classmate Jan Oude V, who spoke 40 y ago, the wise words: Life is too short to be consistent.
A woman in the waiting room of the station saw that I desperately searched my train. That is late, she says. Well, who cares. Just a pity for Tosca, who will have to wait with me outside for another 35 min.
The Dovre plateau was imposing, even from the train: snow, rocks, bare mini bearch trees, low clouds, wet, cold, swamp. Very impressing. A wonderful place to come back for a week or so in summer. But now? Stay away there.
In the train, a young man from Singapore sat next to me. I thought he was together with the black lady behind me, where he initially was sitting next to. But that was not the case. He traded his place next to the black lady for my bench. He had just arrived by plane today in Oslo because he wanted to see snow. He was carrying a 3 m. long fishing rod with him. I invited him to go out with me to my night shelter in the hope that we could share the price of the cabin. You bet. No, sir, said the camp manager on the phone, the price is per person. After having made acqaintance with the man from Singapore we walked together through the miniature village, prepared both our meals. Tomorrow I can walk with you? He asks. Yeah, o.k. with me, but can you do that, untrained and wearing sneakers in this wet weather, carrying a fishing rod of three meters? Oh, he says, I run triathlons. O.K., on verra. He is surprised that while breathing in the cold he exhales steam. I never saw snow, he says. I explain to him that this wet sludge is very different than the yummy ice-cold powder snow in the real winter. But that difference is irrelevant to him. On the plane he had slept much, so he says, I’m not tired. But I do need my rest, I think, so as a compromise I go to bed a little later than desired, and he’s probably a little earlier than he is used to. Tomorrow will be another day “that the mice didn’t influence yet” (= another day another dollar. Heard in Vijlen, alaaf!
