24 
which Mohn, had set his heart’s affections years before. It was 
our fourth maiden peak in five days’ time. My great day was to 
come on the next, or not at all, as Knut, whom we looked upon 
as being quite essential in order to be successful, could only give 
us one day more of his services, and as we apprehended some 
very heavy work on the glacier, a third man really would be 
necessary. After brewing chocolate, and making a good meal of 
seeter produce, we drew nearer to the fire, in the wooden shoes 
which we had borrowed, then threw on some more birch logs, 
hung up our wet things to dry, and were as happy as bees in 
honeysuckle. I tried to impress upon my comrades the truth of 
the old proverb, ‘‘ Karly to bed, early to rise,’ but it was of no 
avail, they were too comfortable. Yet another log on the fire to 
dry the stockings (dry already), yet another song, yet another 
pipe, and, hang it all, yet another glass of toddy, and late to bed 
was the order. As the ascent of Skagastélstind was made from 
Vormelid, I must say, in passing—though time is pressing— 
something about its surroundings. The gorge of the Utla, which 
I have already mentioned, affords during a course of twenty-five 
miles, some of the wildest scenery of its kind in Norway. It 
joins an arm of the great Sogne Fjord at Aardal. Its great 
individuality arises from its narrowness and depth. The pre- 
cipices rise on each side nearly perpendicularly from the river, 
in many places to a height varying from 1,200 to nearly 3,000 
feet. The river, for six or seven miles, between Vetti and 
Vormelid, forms almost the only bottom of the gorge so effectually 
that between these two places there is no communicating path. 
This length two Norrmen and I tried to force in the winter of 
1880 when the river was frozen up, but though we spent two 
whole days of twelve hours each, and had to pass one night in a 
cave, we failed; and though we worked like trolds, and my com- 
panions were the best Norsk climbers I have seen, we were 
eventually forced over the mountains. Vormelid is about twenty 
miles up the gorge from the fjord, and, in order to reach it, one 
must cross the mountains to the higher portion of Utladal, and 
descend to it by a weird mountain path. On Friday morning 
we heard the two merry, bright-eyed seter girls—Live and 
Oliva—calling the cattle with their musical cattle cries, and 
then milking them, about 8 a.m. I was soon out of my sheep- 
skin covered bed—and, in passing, I may say it is easier to get 
up from a rough bed than a soft one—but could not, as I anti- 
cipated, get my comrades away, well-breakfasted, until after 
seven o’clock—a very late hour at which to set out on a totally 
new expedition, and a great disappointment to me, as Knut was 
to leave us next day. Vormelid is only some 1,800 feet above 
sea level, and as Skagastélstind is about 8,000 feet, there would 
be a pretty long ascent to make, besides which we should have 
