Hallingdale Valley. Hardangervid Highland Landscape Path. Hike (2 h) to Vøringfoss Falls. A trip along the scenic Surford. Hike (10-11 h) to the Troll Tong (trollung) - a huge, spiky granite cloak that has swept across the edge of the Tisedale. Hike (5-6 h) to Buerdale Glacier - the third largest tongue of Norway's glacier (Folgefonnes glacier). Lot Waterfall (Låtefoss). Moving over Josenfjord. Hike (5-6 h) to Preikesteen Rock (i.e. Teacher's Chancellery) near Lysfjord, overlooking one of the most beautiful landscapes in Europe. Moving over Hegsfjord. A hike (6-7 h) on Kjeragbolten - a huge cliff clogged up in the crevice of the Lysfjord cliff, on which some even tend to take a picture.
Accommodation in camping cabins and hotels.
God made the earth round and smooth. The angel, who later fell in love, took us to the unknown circumstances and spoiled it (it says Latvian myths), creating mountains, ravines and valleys. When you hit the ground in the crumbs, knocking it out and pulling it out, finally shutting it down.
at the end - shutting it.
The question is - - or spoiled? Wanted to be better, wanted to create something. And there are people who are delighted with how one more non-work of the fallen angel.
We, the inhabitants of the lowlands, may think that God's smoothly planned is corrupted. The Kalnians, including the Scandinavians, are absolutely sure that the earth is created as they see it. Rough, rough, with high peaks and deep valleys. Powerful and disobedient, stronger than human strength. The earth on the edge of the world, which at the top of every one cannot watch, can not descend, full of supernatural powers, beings and creatures. Something is already there - big, mighty and dangerous; something is already happening there - gazes, braces, moves, changes. There are snow avalanches, ice crashes, wild water masses. In the evening, you go quietly to sleep at the foot of a hill, but at night the whirlwind breaks out, breaks Torso lightning, heaven opens, and huge waterblocks go over - destroying, breaking, destroying. There the heavenly king is fighting with the fallen. Scandinavian version - Odin with trolls war. Good with evil. And this fight is eternal - to Ragnarjok himself. Until what is called the goddess of gods, the age of the ax, sword, wind or wolf. When everything is destroyed, Ragnarjoks will join. Then the brother will fight with his brother, the son will kill his father, the mother will cut off his own children. When all laws and norms end. Land sinks into the sea. The sun will turn black, its bright rays will burn the earth. Flaming even the sea and the sky ...
And in the middle of it, the little blob, the little whip, who imagined not knowing what mountains he was in the valleys, would turn the rivers, the sky would crash - and nothing would be like this!
Even a small Norwegian bitch knows that there is a hill from which a cloud of smoke rises, a half-spotted troll that decided to smoke the evening pipe. If the little one will not listen, will beat, noises, no time to sleep, then the troll will wake up. Shatter trees, lichens and beasts from the camels, stand up and take a small dolphin with you in the Dovre mountain kingdom. It has happened not once, nor is it telling the story in vain.
HENS DANCE IN THE MOUNTAIN
The mother sat at home and waited, waiting, but the daughter didn't come back. The mother sat and waited, but in her heart she heard sounds of mountains from the mountains. The daughter did not come.
The mother called the other daughter to go to see where the sister was left. The second daughter also left and did not go. The mother waited but the time was long and wide.
The mother sent her younger daughter to tear the tears. Did not go.
Go yourself. The voices of the spirits were led by him, and he had to walk a long way until he found a cave that could descend into the underground. The stairs led down the circle. From there came the sound and light. As he descended down, the mother saw a bright, wide but empty grass. Going through it, found another - more beautiful than the previous one, behind it - even more magnificent. There was music and chicken chanting. There was a huge, shaggy, dirty troll in the doorway and asked:
"Will you come to me as a lover?"
"What did my daughters say?"
"Not."
"Yes."
When the mother and her daughters returned home, the villagers had something to wonder - not her fields, she worked, nor was she looking for men, but they had no food and drink and they danced in the yard all the time. As the chicken turned around his axis, the heads gave way.
People understood but didn't talk to them anymore.
Everyone can get what they want. If he wants his eyes and ears open, if the soul is free. Then this is the land of trolls.
The best of the waterfall is to feel as close as possible to the place (at the foot), where it hits the stones with the ions and jumps away. Rumble, roar and wreck everything in your way.
But the waterfall's length (such as the smallest, even the smallest dress in Norway) can only be heard and seen at the top of the waterfall, where it is just as calm and quiet as the stream is just preparing for its leap into the abyss. Deep down from the black boiler splashes rise. Going carefully through these foam clouds can melt a small silhouette over your violin. You will never see him clearly and clichés, only the surrounding natural melodies will indicate the presence of HOW, that you are not one that you are next to.
At first, it will seem that you are covered only by restless silence. Then distant voices will be scanned through tension. Natural Silence Chorus. Echoes will cover your height, they will grow in strength until you hear this miraculous orchestra. Pine sprouts, aspen truffles, birch chamois, melancholic willow flute, brook chase and burrs. Along the hills, you will hear a fresh breeze of wind, heavy sighs of mighty forests, blending with the lush dunes of mountain lakes, will form a bass party. But in the waterfall, a violin bow that will contain and expose the entire orchestra will be spiky. He seems to have fallen asleep because his eyes are always closed, but no - he looks at himself to keep the harmony in the middle. This game never ends.
The luminous black rock horn slid out of the waterfall as a church tower once buried in water splashes. It has overlaid the silver moonlight vaults, but the rainbow whitish tones of the night's waterproof strings. Everyone can participate in this sound game as long as the stars are shining over your heads. Re, one fell into the waterfall kingdom! Another one...
Just frame, frame, don't get too deep ...
But what are you waiting for? Walking or hiking in the Norwegian mountains is different. Different levels of difficulty and different tasks (as the theater would say). There are some that could be likened to pilgrimages, such as a medium stroll on the Preikesteen Rock or a slightly more difficult hike on the back of Acha in the Besingen rock. There are self-test steps on the Fannaraken Glacier in the Hurrunganes Massif or in the Mount of Dresden, where only the winners gain panoramic satisfaction from the top conquerors. There are amusement rides and adventures in Norway's highest peaks in Galhigigen (2469 m) or Glittertinden (2464 m), which have to take into account the whims of natural conditions, even in July swamp (fog, rain or even snow). Perhaps the more dangerous they are, because they have to cross melting glaciers with cracks, but seriousness and attraction will tie you up and perhaps even give you a tick. Hiking in the mountains of Trollheim (troll home) is like a rainbow: from the wetlands of the hills, rich in mushrooms and berries, from (sometimes) real swamps and nice lakes (can swim) with a sandy beach (!), To the still-free ice bogs and snow decks ( also in August), steep rock walls, between which a man has set a nice path, to Odin's throne at the end of a hill or another creek, in the form of a waterfall. From each capability to each, as needed. Good shoes and a positive mood will guarantee indelible memories even without.
He's cunning. People are his booty.
During the day it hosts under the large leaves of the water lily. Will come after the flower - what a cool and clever hand grip on you and gently slips into the pond (so it is absolutely forbidden in Norway to pluck any aquatic plants). In the evenings, the elf is especially dangerous for romantic, melancholy-minded people, who dive into their dreams in the swirling waters of the lake. The beloved image floats from the depths of memories, trembling in front of your eyes, reflecting in the waters of sunset. You see her as alive. The water elephant has revived it and tempts to follow the image. An inattentive step on the cobblestone footsteps - a quiet water splash is a witness that you have gone with dreams. Sweet but fateful.
This is the land: sweet or salt, but fateful. Whoever deserves and learned to get.
