Thursday June 4th 2015. Markebygde (Levanger ) 21 km.

Vertrek uit Børras donderdagochtend

Leaving Børras Thursday morning


Even pauze op een waranda van een buitenhuisje

A short break in the porch of a vacation house

Als de zon doorkomt is het prachtig, allemachtig!

When the sun comes out it is beautiful

Nog een keer vanaf onze rustplek

Another picture from the porche


Van buiten nat van de regen, van binnen van het zweet

Outside wet of the rain, inside of the sweat

In Nl. 30 gr. voorspeld. Wat triest voor hun!

Weather forcast in the Nl. 30 degrees C. What a shame for them!

Men kan zien, niet egaal grijs, gelukkig

As one can see, not all grey, fortunately

Lunchpauze in een huisje voor brievenbussen

Lunch stop in a shed for mail boxes

Nederlands koppel uit Zeewolde tegengekomen

Meeting a Dutch couple from Zeewolde

Aankomst bij het parochiehuis van MarkabygdaArrival at the parish building of Markabygda

Kacheltje was lekker aan

Fire place was burning

Francien overweegt piano te spelen

Francien considers playing piano

Though I slept well every time I turned I could hear the continuous rain lashes against the window and roof. Rob de Nijs sang 40 years ago: “Zachtjes tikt de regen tegen het zolderraam, ritme van de eenzaamheid (Gently the rain taps against the garret window, the rhythm of solitude …”). I thought instead, very hard the rain is hitting against the hostal roof, promise for the new day …
After a calm and slow breakfast we were ready for the trip through Norway’s beautiful scenery, hoping that in the meantime the rain would stop, but at last we left anyway. While one storm after the other poured upon our heads, we felt blessed that the wind (mostly) blew against the back, that sometimes the rain poured a little less, that everything we had to carry uphill would go downhill again and that a temperature of 30 C., which was predicted for the Netherlands next weekend, is not very pleasant on a trip like this. And, because of the rain and the cold, there were no mosquitoes. How lucky we were. Francien noticed that there were hardly any birds in these forests. No doubt there were a lot of fish in the lakes, but you don’t see nor can you hear them. Probably still quite nice! Occasionally the sun glanced for a moment. After several hours of walking through the hills / mountains, on a gravel road through the woods and along lakes, we felt it was time for a break. We installed ourselves on the covered porch of a small vacation cottage on the shore of the lake. A beautiful place, especially if the weather is nice. Pictures. Tosca came to bring us a pot with blooming plastic plant. Very thoughtful.

A few hours later we met a young couple about 50 years old, carrying large backpacks, who were organizing their rain gear. The first pilgrims flock since the 700 km. from Oslo. They thought we were Dutch. Whether they saw Franciens blue eye (normally hers are brown) or by our fat-cool chill look, who knows. Now we understood that when yesterday we were booking the home for next night, these two people were the two compatriots that then happened to be in Markabygda. In Markabygda a surprise is awaiting you, they said. Well, obviously one does not ask right away: what surprise?
We have lunch in a very messy, rickety old barn, dirty but dry and no wind. Tosca is looking for a spot on a dot old hay.
The rain still pouring, sometimes cloudy with a tiny little less rain, we arrived at three o’clock in Markebygde, a true parish. Our accommodation is the parish house. We wondered what was the surprise. That the stove was burning? That there was a large prayer room? A small prayer room had been enough for us! A shoe dryer? Not that exceptional. A piano? We didn’t really need. Food in the refrigerator was free. The manager showed us around: toilet, bathroom, bed and … a half-full can of food, which had been completely filled according to the traces. What a surprise! So less time lost cooking and saving some money. Ha, ha. But … no wifi, no radio, no TV, no games, but there was a pulpit. So anyway back to basics: a little chatting and that’s it for tonight.
Francien will leave tomorrow at 8.15 to catch the train. She hopes the hostal administrator will drive her there. He would see.
Meanwhile it is a few hours later again. The manager speaks hardly any English but we understood that he would bring Francien to the train tomorrow morning. We had found biscuits in the cupboard and soft drinks and fruit in the refrigerator. How lucky we are, boy. Tosca is exhausted on the mat inside the front door. We still recorded an interview for the film. And thus this wet day came to an end.

Francien goes home tomorrow (1,200 km?) and I go to Stiklestad (only 40 km.), the city where the holy King Olav was killed about 1000 years ago. Let’s see if I can pass Stiklestad alive.

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