Per Thomsen, former editor-in-chief on Stavanger Aftenblad wrote this humorous subtle story about the mysteries of a wilderness:
“The trip to Svartvatnet was a battled experience and we were too puzzled to write anything before today.
Only now, are we able to see the comedy in it but there was nothing to laugh at, while it lasted.
On the way home, I slipped over a small grass shelf, and fell about a quarter of a meter.
My right foot went down into a hole between some moss-covered rocks. The foot was helplessly stuck. I tried to slide and tail and wiggle, but without any luck.
My friend Tore, became impatient. He tried in his way, which by the way was quite similar to my own. It made no difference and I said I would rather try myself.
Unfortunately, the foot had gotten so far down the hole that I couldn’t get the boot tied up, nor could I get a knife down and cut the boot up.
Tore tried once with the knife, but I said that if I wanted my foot amputated, I would rather have a doctor.
Then we tried to get the stones away, but unfortunately it was Mother Norway herself, and after an hour of clearing work, we made no progress.
It was completely idiotic. I was not injured. I had managed to get my foot down the hole. Therefore, the hole was also large enough for it to come up again.
I could feel that the foot wasn’t sprained. Therefore, it was not likely to be swelled. So why couldn’t it come up again?
Both Tore and I asked this question, to each other and to the world in general, to the Lord, and we made a series of highly derogatory remarks about the way the world is governed.
We stated that we found the case extremely funny the first five minutes, but now it was enough.
Of course the rain started to fall. The question came up if Tore should go for help?
It sounds good: ‘Go for help, when an accident occurs in the mountains.’
But how can the rescuer help. There are no reports of that!
While we were wondering about this, Tore thought very sensible that we needed to relax.
Whereupon we sat for half an hour, eating and smoking, pretending as if we had just sat down voluntarily.
The view wasn’t so bad, it stopped raining and the sun came out. We agreed that we had a holiday.
We told each other stories. Occasionally I jerked my foot, but it did not come loose, and I pretended not to have done so. Tore said I should leave it alone.
It could be, it slept eventually, and we might cheat it to come along.
But even though we both seemed cheerful and indifferent, we didn’t like it.
Did the foot sleep? I do not know, but at first Tore fell asleep, and shortly after I fell asleep too.
We don’t know for how long. But suddenly I was awakened by Tore who looked incredibly sleepy while he muttered; we’d better go home.
I gathered the fishing pole and the backpack and off we went.
We had been walking for at least five minutes before I remembered that the foot was actually stuck.
I was filled with an indefinable and strange feeling. The same was Tore when he remembered.
But then we reassured each other that the spirit had triumphed over matter, and we proceeded home, extremely carefully and cautiously.
Such experiences affect us, especially when we can give no explanation for them. We went to bed without many words. But today we think the story is really funny. ”
“As soon as I saw you I knew a grand adventure was about to happen.”
~ A.A. Milne