At the right the reporter, in the middle the owners of the camping
Interview during free breakfast from the good fairy
The second reporter
Such a mailbox house with a grass roof I want to make too when I am home, only a little smaller
Rivers, wild nature
If you look well you might see the shadow of a moose at ther right side. Lens is not clear because of the cold
Trees seem to become more scarce at places
Heia motell lunch break
Snow on the mountains
My only shunshine, You make me happy, you make me happy , as skies are blue…?
I’m siiiinging in the rain…
My overnight stay. Part of a volks college
Trying to make a selfy with 2 Swedish fishermen in my barraque
Another attempt for a picture of the Swedes
12:46 you. Heia, a roadhouse / motel on my way to Grong. After 2.5 hours walking, almost constantly in a light drizzling rain, I think it’s about time for a break. Elk, woodpecker, great tit.
But back to the beginning. At 8 o’clock I enter the main building of Camp Vegset there to meet the press of Snåsa (2200 inhabitants). And, indeed, shortly afterwards, a man with a fancy camera came in. That must be him. Mindful of my experience with the sexton, a few weeks ago, who did not accept my outstretched hand, I asked, if it is unusual in Norway to shake hands. No, not unusual (double negative, confusing), so customary to shake hands. O.K., so that’s what I do. His Norwegian name I can not remember. He was a Snåsa Internet newspaper reporter, the Snåsanyt.no. I told my story, pictures being taken. The hostess had somebody bring me waffles with cream and jam and coffee and later she gave me still the remains of the breakfast-feast, wrapped in plastic. The food yesterday, two burgers, I did not have to pay. What a good fairy. After the interview I picked up the backpack, went out and ran right into the arms of another reporter, this time of the regular paper, Nåsa newspaper. So back inside, retold the story, with some other details this time, to keep it a little interesting for the landlord and landlady. Again pictures with dog and backpack, inside, outside in the rain, under the Norwegian flag, of my worn shoes etc.
Afterwards I tell the camping owners, that actually I would like to learn a lot about them instead of always talking about myself. Why don’t I see boats on the lakes? Due to the cold. Are Saamen living here? Yes, he says, my two daughters are (or half?) Saamen. The manager had been married to a Saamen woman. I found remarkable that the daughters had dark hair and brown eyes and the administrators did not. Are Saamen living here? Yes, says the boss. A dozen or so families. I ask if they can make a living of their reindeer. He replies: if you ask a Saam how many reindeer he has, he always answers: enough! Would you like to go there ?, he asks. I’d love to, but I have to reach Cape North. Otherwise, I’ll never get there. Too bad, but yes, we have to prioritize. Nice people, the two owners of Vegset Camp in Snåsa. Here I have to come back. Beautiful at the lake. He shows a picture of his son with a fish (salmon?) of 5 kg. To eat, he adds. At 10.15 finally I’m on the road, so on the highway. This I must follow for a week or so and continue until I follow a side road to Hemavan Tarnaby in Sweden-and that’s a secondary road.
What else is worth reporting about this morning? I see a woodpecker. So those exist here too. Tosca will find a bunch of hair, much like badger hair. May be of a rendeer. I see a run over great tit. Not so special, but yesterday I wrote that I saw no tits. Maybe somebody put it along the way, as a curiosity, like someone did with that dead Polish wolf, last year somewhere at the roadside in the North of the Netherlands. A moose crosses the road. Before I could become confidential with the animal, Tosca had seen him / her and was almost unstoppable. While I tried to calm down my wild beast with one hand, I grabbed my camera with the other hand between the cape and other clothes from my pocket. The moose dives right before an oncoming truck into the green. Too late. Photo failed, but I’ll publish it anyway.
So I’m gradually getting ahead, along the fortunately not very busy road, passing wild streams and endless forests. I take a few pictures of pieces of open forest, which I seem to see ever more often and which I imagine Lapland to be like: sparse vegetation and marshes and low temperatures. The meteorological centers predict for today and for the rest of the week a maximum of 9 degrees C. Last year at this time it was 30 degrees., the camping manager said this morning. They all say so, but I think: they’re all fishermen here! A beautiful thing in our country, a fierce Norwegian told me, is that here the grass still is green in the autumn. In southern Europe, it is gray, dry, desert. That’s right, I think in my turn, but in the South the grass is green in March and then Norway is a snow desert. It depends what you like most.
And then I come on time in Grong. A new problem arises. The next 100 km. there are a few camp sites, but the distances in between are impossible. One about 14 km. That is too short. Then one 33 km. further and then another 15 km thereafter. And then again another 30 km. more. 14 Km. is too short, but 14 + 33 I think is very far, especially if the next day I’ll have to go more than 30 km once more. When I walk short distances, I’ll advance too slow. Tomorrow I can ask information at the turist informasjon, but that is not open before 9 am and when I start that late I’ll never get the 47 km. done. The weather makers neither help: all the rest of the week rain predicted. Now I could take the bus the first 14km. However, the bus leaves only after 06 pm and no dogs allowed. Moreover, this is against the principle. And wild camping with a wet dog in the rain, at this temperature, in a one person’s tent I find no option. But maybe I should consider taking a day off tomorrow and only walk 14 km.
I check in with my Vandrerhjem. The lady there is singing “I’m singing in the rain … I sing along with her and now the melody remains stuck in my mind. She tells about two adolescents who have managed to flee the war in Eritrea and the two are guided by her.
In Vandrerhjem I see a couple of men in the kitchen. They proved to be Swedes. And what are you doing here? Fishing! If I am missing, you know I’m fishing! We saw you walking with your dog on the freeway. A little chatting about fly fishing and so on, making a picture and looking for food. Spar was still open for Tosca’s Frolic food and also a typical Norwegian restaurant, so a pizzeria, was open! I had an extra large pizza, for two persons and thought again about the route. Tonight in my room I’ll count again if I have enough time for a short route tomorrow and then I’ll decide what I’ll do. On verra. Well, was this a good day? The beginning was fun, with those interviews, the route nice with the elk and the wild nature, the weather and the road bad, but I’m warm and dry in my intended target, so all together O.K.
It is now 8 pm. Showering next and doing some writing on my I-pad. I can lie on the table, watching TV music clips, football or the ever dull news. I do not have the impression that I’m missing anything important of the news. Whether and how many casualties are counted in Syria or Africa, how many boat people drowned today and whatever happened in the Nl and in which town a successful flower corso happened. Later Tour de France, Wimbledon. Give them bread and games, the Romans have said. I have enough when I get the bread.
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