A summer in northern lands; the journal of a trip to Scandinavia . rising proprietor of the hotel has utilizedthe waterfall to furnish electricity for light-ing his house and grounds. Sunday, August breakfast we started by auto upthe road to Grotlid. When Marian lookedahead, she asked where we were going. Itold her, *Right up over the mountain yousee in front of us. She would not believeme, and to tell the truth I was doubtfulabout it myself, it looked impossible. Webegan to ascend rapidly by zig-zags, turningcorners that would have been impossible fora long American automobile but we
A summer in northern lands; the journal of a trip to Scandinavia . rising proprietor of the hotel has utilizedthe waterfall to furnish electricity for light-ing his house and grounds. Sunday, August breakfast we started by auto upthe road to Grotlid. When Marian lookedahead, she asked where we were going. Itold her, *Right up over the mountain yousee in front of us. She would not believeme, and to tell the truth I was doubtfulabout it myself, it looked impossible. Webegan to ascend rapidly by zig-zags, turningcorners that would have been impossible fora long American automobile but were easilynegotiated by the dumpy little Adler car wewere in. We passed stones marking an alti-tude of live hundred, eight hundred, and,finally, a thousand meters. This road is awonderful piece of engineering and even inSwitzerland it would be considered remark-able. We traveled some seventeen kilome-ters to reach the top of the mountain andthen were less than six kilometers in astraight line from our starting place. Soonafter passing the highest point we came to. A SUMMER IN NORTHERN LANDS 79 a large lake that is the source of the Otta,which empties into the Lougen, up whichwe traveled several weeks ago, when on ourway to the Romsdal. After following theroad along the banks of this lake for acouple of miles, we came to the rigs thatwere waiting to take us on to Grotlid, for thefarmers of the district that we have nowreached do not allow automobiles to travelover their roads. The hotel proprietor atMarok had promised he would have twocarriages meet us here, but only one was acaleche, the other being an ordinary stolk-jaerre. We all climbed out of the auto,which had to go back, and, after putting myfamily into the four-wheeler, I got into thecart, along with the Englishman who hadalready taken possession. Before we hadgone far the boy who was driving, tried toshow us some reindeer on the other side ofthe lake. He said there were half a dozenon the mountain side, but I could not s
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidsummerinnort, bookyear1922
