Train, Walk and Explore

Here, in the wild rugged mountain landscape, was Mannen.
A high-altitude unstable mountain section, which threatened the Norwegian residents in the valley with extinction. For decades, families were evacuated. The mountain section threatened to crash into the valley. Today, the greatest danger is over after several major landslides over the past six years.

Down in the valley, between weathered mountain peaks, the train runs from Dombås to Åndalsness by the sea. Raumabanen, is the name of the railway.

Here, Harry Potter rode by train with his friends heading for Hogwarts in the film, Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince.

In March 2008, a film crew secretly arrived in Norway to shoot the sixth Harry Potter film, “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince”.
The recordings were made to avoid snow shortage, after the film team had waited for two months for snow in Scotland.
The fact that the scenic area is surrounded by mountains and valleys also played a role in the choice of location.
For several days, a film team of 20 people surrounded by great secrecy, worked at Bjorli in Lesja municipality in Oppland to make a recording for the latest Harry Potter film.

Ingrid Nergården Jortveit wrote an article in the Norwegian newspaper Gudbrandsdølen Dagningen. I have translated fragments from that article.

Geiranger Fjord by hannaswalk.com

We went by a train journey into the dramatic outstanding Norway. Trolltinderne, the Troll Peaks make you humble, and with a good reason: Mannen!

We bought an interrail ticket to Norway. It gave us access to travel in this stunning country as pioneers, or that was the feeling it gave me. Going by train, busses and small ferries. Planning a route of our own.

Watching dramatic mountains torned by the wonderful sparkling blue fjords. It seemed to be an impossible feat, the thousand meters high mountains rising majestically right out of the sea. I watched them with awe. Tiny ships seemed to vanish in the shadows from mountains and waterfalls a true adventure.

Valley of Romsdalen by Johan Frederik Eckersberg (Norwegian) 1857
Norwegian Waterfall With Sawmill by Themistokles von Eckenbrecher
Troldtinderne i Romsdalen; foden af Romsdalshorn til højre, 1894. Hans Gude 1825 – 1903.

Elves, Dragons, Stars and Fairies

All magical creatures seem to manifest in a frozen tableau only to perish by the red flames of the sun.

“Promise to stay wild with me.
We’ll seek and return and stay and find beauty
and the extraordinary in all the spaces we can claim.
We´ll know how to live.
How to breathe magic into the mundane.”
By Victoria Erickson

Trolls and Mysterious Landscapes

Johan Christian Dahl

Imagine if we still believed in trolls.

Stories, told around the fireplace are no more. But how did they originate in the first place? 

Dark forests, bogs and misty shapes across the meadow. 
Of course, it was teeming with trolls everywhere 🤤

In Denmark we have several forests named after trolls.
Forests, where crippled trees reach out their tentacles for terrified walkers.

It’s always good fun when you are safe at home😁

Darkness is rising

This is one of my old stories but very appropriate for Halloween 🎃😊

Someone had the decency to unlock the sun for an hour yesterday.
It is hard to imagine now when rain and hail are tumbling down. I was about to end my walk as the sun went down and dusk took over. I had some concerns because of the growing darkness.
Should I walk through the bog in the darkness or across the cemetery? Strange stories passed through me as I thought of the cemetery.

Once my brother took a short-cut across a cemetery late at night:

He entered our living room, pale with fear. His age in mind the experience must have been fierce. He was a teenager, and at that age it is inappropriate to be afraid. He was sure that he had stumbled upon a corpse on a small church path. My parents were sure that there was another explanation and they calmed him down so he was able to fall asleep.

Early the next morning my father went to the cemetery with my brother, and they did find a man. He wasn’t dead, but lacked a place to sleep. That finding brought my brother’s mind in a state of relief, but the cemetery was no longer an option for a short-cut.

An artist I once knew worked in a cemetery where he used an old gate house as a studio. He told me lots of stories one evening over a bottle of wine. I have never been able to forget this one in particular.
We sat by the fireplace and actually the weather outside was very similar to the weather in his story. He began the story describing how terrible tired and exhausted he was:

I’d been working late every night with the aim to get my last painting done for the opening. One night it became very late. Sometimes I get so tired that I have to pull myself together to go to bed, and I wasn’t even home yet.
So I turned off the lights and locked the door. When I went out in the storm and rain to find the car, I almost lost my breath, for it was bitterly cold.

A short stay in the wind combined with a break caused me to listen more attentively. Yes, there it was again! Help me, help !!!

It was difficult to determine the direction. The rain, the darkness and the wind created shadows where there usually were open spaces. After a while I decided to walk into the darker section of the cemetery until suddenly I saw a strange thing.
From one of the open graves prepared for the next day funeral I sensed a movement. Carefully approaching I could see two hands cling to the edge of an open grave.

At this point in his storytelling, he made a little stay and I could swear that there was a shiver running through him. He continued: I found myself in a state where my adrenaline whizz around in my body. I didn’t know whether I should turn and run, or just let myself be completely frozen with fear because I was nearly there already.

The rough terrifying voice tore me out of my trance by screaming in my ears: Heeeelp! Help me! I saw the man down in the grave. Two big scared eyes midst of all the mud, and a pair of hands which reached out like a child who wants to be lifted up.
I stood and gazed at him. It felt like hours. Then I recognised him. He was a slightly tipsy gentleman who often take his lunch on one of the benches, if not every day and in a liquid form.

Close to the grave hang a water hose. I tied the hose onto an iron pipe and handed the other end to the man in the grave.
The exhausted man was rescued from the cold grave, and after a drink and some dry clothes, he told his story about how he fell down in the grave by an accident.

But I was still considering which way to choose. I looked at the bog and the growing darkness and my thoughts went to Frodo, Sam, and Gollum when they went through the Dead Marshes on the way to Mordor.
I chose the cemetery 🤞😊

Exotic Words and Places

I love the writing by the Danish author, Henrik Nordbrandt. His words create amazing scenarios in the cinema of my soul.
Exotic words and places, become like little boats broken loose from their moorings, to drift off in high sea. Soon up, soon down. Soon up, overlooking magnificent palaces, and exuberant crowds, soon down, where only half-truths are revealed and the rest is filled with the invigorating power of imagination.

… Around your figure stands an aura, like a blooming hawthorn had set itself on fire to surpass your shadow in beauty.
Added strings to your being would deepen the silence
or make the strings burst into song …

This poetry is taken from a wonderful poem, Alcyone and translated by myself. Forgive me for that!

Henrik Nordbrandt

The Immediate and the Snow

Look Mommy, it’s been snowing!
I sat across from a mother with her little son as the train drove through a beech forest filled with anemones.
The flowers stood so close that they looked like snowdrifts in some places.
That goes years back, but the memory emerges when the anemones blossom so wonderfully.

Stay strong all of you ❤

Faul Play in the Forest

Sometimes, a story sticks with me for a long time. It was such a one my friend; JJ told me about. One day he had a walk in the big old forest, Gribskov. That particular day was a day where he walked for hours without meeting anyone.

It was on his way home just before the fir trees darken the paths, that he saw two men digging between the trees up upon a hill.
One of them caught glimpse of JJ and threw the spade exclaiming: I gotta have a talk with that man down there!

My friend didn’t wait for him. He disappeared further into the forest, where the shady dark green colour becomes black and the intense scent of fir trees merge together in the silence.

Even years after hearing the story I fantasise about what they dug up – or down upon that hill.
The story popped up again when I saw the image of Hans Andersen Brændekilde, Jægeren.
I get the impression of foul play.

Jægeren by Hans Andersen Brændekilde
A Danish painter; H.A. Brændekilde
Born 7. April 1857, Brændekilde, Death 30. marts 1942, Jyllinge.

A Walk and a Sailing Myth

The small ferry sailing around Frederiksborg Castle resembles undeniably a little boat from Legoland.

However, many people are having a joyous day on the lake with a different view to the castle

Recently I heard on the radio that the little boat is a rebuilt lifeboat from one of the most famous vessels in Danish history:

The ship Jutlandia, a floating hospital, that went on three expeditions from 1951 to 1953 during the Korean War.

That changed completely my perspective on the small ferry, until yesterday, when I did some research.

The shipping company tells the story on their website. The ferry has sailed the lake since 1952, and the story about the lifeboat is so popular that it has almost turned into a truth. Some myths are worth saving 🙂

Note

You can take a wonderful walk around the lake and through the Baroque garden or you can continue towards Gribskov and wilderness.

Click the link to see my beautiful walk towards the mountain in the forest:

Walking from a castle to a mountain on an icy day.

Thieves’ corner

Thieves’ corner! This is where abominable greedy men with murky faces hide their precious loot. They watch greedily, while tons of gold ducats, jewellery and gems are poured into treasure chests.
Are you still with me?

That’s the picture I see when I stumble across the place-name Tyvekrogen in English; thieves’ corner. But alas! The reality is less colourful. At least when I search the web.

On the other hand I’ve never checked those houses. That’s a comfort if you just like me are greatly entertained by good stories 😊

Note: Thieves’ corner is a remote clearing surrounded by scrub and woodland.

This is from a joyous walk between two lakes: Vejlesø and Furesøen.

A little note: The residential roads are among the most expensive neighbourhoods in North Zealand – apart from the fishermen’s cabins 😉

A Temple of Nature

High upon a forest slope tucked between the trees stands a bench. Sometimes I climb up the slope just to sit in silence on that bench. A seep emerges at the foot of the hill and all kind of birds come here to drink. Even Hugin and Munin ⚡🙂 A temple of nature.

“And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.” ~ William Shakespeare