Fill, fell, fall

Three landscapes in a day

I take the train across Norway. I tell the tale in thirds.

First the fjords that fill the Bergen side, then the alpine fells of the Hardangervidda plateau, and finally the fall to fertile farming and the Oslo coast.

A house keeps an eye on a fjord.

A fjord keeps an eye on a tree—which reminds me I want to see a stave church—they can approach 900 years in age, and I’ve read certain trees on the north side of ridges were ring-barked and left to season for decades before being used in a stave church.

Cramped for space.

Imagine a Viking boat passing—the creak and sweat of rowing..

Huddled. Making their point.

Rising to the plateau.

The fells of the plateau—the Hardangervidda region—alpine, flora a few inches high, bedrock a few inches below, glaciers just out of sight, glacial milk in streams, reindeer herds I hear, people with backpacks I see—this is where land and sky worship each other and hikers simply witness.

Humanity worships sky.

Rock sees the smallness of man.

Rock in a hard place. In winter under snow.

Imagine Thor playing rock, sky, winter, like we play rock, paper, scissors.

Down the other side—farms replace fells, trees replace treeless, soils replace rock..

Bales of hay—man can once again consider himself the master.

And finally to Oslo—salt water industry—man the master.