On the right of the Utladals Elv a foaming torrent falls from an upper plateau of the Horungerne. On our left we could see the Skögadals Elv, and on the opposite side the Aurdals Axelen, forming the two sides of the valley out of which issues the Skögadals Elv, and falls down rocky steeps into the deep gorge of the Utladal. A beautiful green, moss-covered, rocky, low hill, formed our foreground on the opposite side of the Skögadals Elv. As you look down the deep gorge beyond, two hills rise in picturesque outline, one with a very steep, dark summit. The white foam of a waterfall contrasts with the dark rocks of the mountain down which it falls. In the far distance a small pointed hill stands alone. It is far down the gorge, as far as the eye can reach. For our tea we had gröd and milk. Ole retired to the sœter at eight o’clock, and as it rained heavily we all went to bed. When we retired to rest on the mossy turf; we could not help expressing pity for the unfortunate people stoved up in the sœters. Ole said it would probably rain next day, but if fine it was arranged that he should call us up at three o’clock the next morning.
It rained heavily when we awoke about three o’clock so that we continued our repose. Ole called us at a much later hour. We gave him out of our tent, matches, and material for making the fire, and soon joined him. The gipsies also were up and stirring. Esmeralda soon managed the breakfast service from her kettle bag, which was quite equal to Pandora’s box for the extraordinary quantity and variety of things it contained. The frokost consisted of fladbröd, butter and tea. The day was dull and cloudy. We could hear with greater distinctness the roar of the rising waters of the Skögadals Elv. This was pleasant, except that we had the prospect of having one or two of our donkeys drowned in crossing the rapid waters.
The morning gradually cleared, and we diligently wrote up our notes till one o’clock. Esmeralda then announced our mid-day meal. The hobbenengree had boiled some of Ole’s bacon with the unfortunate piece of dried meat from Holaker, which had persistently haunted our soup kettle for so many miles. There was no mistaking it as Noah pronged it out with a fork, and suddenly let it fall back into the soup, as if he had seen the ghost of his Uncle Elijah.