Journey to Hjelmeland

So long tiny hotel room, you served me well!

Spartan, but still cozy.
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Spartan, but still cozy.

Remembering how tasty those sausage rolls were at the cafe yesterday, I made a point to raid them again today.

Colonialen Storhaug: Crowded, and for good reason.
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Colonialen Storhaug: Crowded, and for good reason.

In addition to the sausage rolls, and a slice of quiche, I got a croissant that was so buttery it actually made a large C-shaped butter stain on the inside of the box they gave me. I think I’ve found the Norway version of my “Best Café”…

These are tremendously delicious! During my time in Stavanger I are FOUR of them.
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These are tremendously delicious! During my time in Stavanger I are FOUR of them.

On the way to the docks I caught another manhole for my collection:

Manhole Gallery: Stavanger
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Manhole Gallery: Stavanger

I checked the ferry schedule again and realized I had a couple hours to kill, so I meandered though the tourist section again and sorted more photos in a coffee shop.

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No matter how many times I see it, it always looks like too much gear.
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No matter how many times I see it, it always looks like too much gear.

Don’t look behind you!
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Don’t look behind you!

This alley is an ally.
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This alley is an ally.

My wanderings led me to this fellow. Imposing!

Google Maps just calls this “Statue Old Time Watchman”.
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Google Maps just calls this “Statue Old Time Watchman”.

Ready to bludgeon crime at any moment!
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Ready to bludgeon crime at any moment!

I arrived at the ferry terminal early, so I wandered around a bit, then charged my laptop and poked photos in the waiting area.

It’s a pretty darn glorious day downtown.
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It’s a pretty darn glorious day downtown.

The terminal was surprisingly compact. It had eight separate stations where a boat could dock, and each was only about the length of a boat. The pilots actually moved them in sideways, which was pretty impressive to watch.

The ferry boats are very agile, and can dock in parallel.
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The ferry boats are very agile, and can dock in parallel.

Good use for old tires.
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Good use for old tires.

When my boat arrived, one of the deckhands showed me a spot under the stairs and handed me a bungee cord, trusting me to secure the bike. Boarding and departing took only a couple of minutes.

Tucked away under the stairs, it only needs one wee stabilizing strap.
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Tucked away under the stairs, it only needs one wee stabilizing strap.

The city was nice but it’s good to be on the move again, frankly.
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The city was nice but it’s good to be on the move again, frankly.

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Be alert in your South Park persona, young person!
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Be alert in your South Park persona, young person!

Interesting art.
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Interesting art.

Chugga chugga! Beep! Honk!
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Chugga chugga! Beep! Honk!

The boats were much faster on the water than I expected!

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We made a bunch of stops, ping-ponging north and south between some islands.

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After about an hour I arrived in Hjelmeland and shoved my bike back over the ramp. The boat scooted away. My water shortcut saved about a day of riding on the Eurovelo 1, and I was fine with it. Too many boat rides too close together made for a messy schedule.

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Nearby I noticed another, larger dock with a car ferry getting ready to take on passengers. It looked like an entirely different system. According to my map it ran a triangular route between just two nearby terminals: Hjelmeland, Nesvik, and Ombo. The Eurovelo used it, but I planned to skip it.

One of the amazingly shaped car ferries.
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One of the amazingly shaped car ferries.

I knew I should find the hostel where I would be camping, but my first order of business was snacks. There was just one restaurant in all of Hjelmeland that was still open: A “thai” place right next to the terminals. I ordered a family-size meal of fish and rice and tucked it away in a bag.

The thai restautant gets asked about ferry tickets. A LOT.
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The thai restautant gets asked about ferry tickets. A LOT.

This old flyer is adorable. Hanging on the wall of the thai restaurant in the center of town.
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This old flyer is adorable. Hanging on the wall of the thai restaurant in the center of town.

With that done, I rode to the hostel. A harried man in a t-shirt and cargo pants gave me a brief tour, using English with a heavy eastern-European accent. I asked him if there were any rooms, in case I could trade up from a campsite, and he said “No. At capacity.” Later on I realized it wasn’t because they had a ton of customers, it was because they were making major repairs to the plumbing before the busy season.

And they were very necessary: I tried to take a shower and the drain didn’t work at all, but I didn’t notice because the shower was actually a partially-tiled closet with a wooden door. Water ran beneath the door and into the common bathroom area, where there was another drain in the floor … which was also clogged. When I stepped out of the shower the entire bathroom was flooded, with drifts of soap and dirt slowly creeping towards the drain. I had to dry off in the kitchen.

Hostels! You get what you pay for.

Anyway, I decided on a patch of ground in the back yard, right next to a fence. It only took a few minutes to make camp.

A little slice of heaven!
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A little slice of heaven!

There was still plenty of light, and I could see rain elsewhere over the fjord. Quite majestic!

Looking out into Boknafjorden from the town.
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Looking out into Boknafjorden from the town.

As I was falling asleep, I realized just how strange the ambient sound was. I could hear the usual birdsong and wind, and the small waves of the ocean inside the fjord as they flicked at the coastline, but in the distance I could also hear the motors of several ferry boats moving in different directions offshore.

At regular intervals one of them would approach the dock. That made a surge of larger waves, then some reverberating clunks of metal, and finally a deep booming sound as the vehicle ramp contacted the pavement. Then sometimes a few cars would drive out.

It wasn’t loud enough to keep me awake, but it was fascinating. I set the phone to record and perched it near the top of the tent, in a little storage area, and over the next eight hours as I slept it recorded a really unique soundscape. A couple days later I made some minor edits to it, and cut it into big half-hour chunks. Now it’s ready for regular listening on my “falling asleep” playlists.

A series of cafés

A day of writing!

Helmer Storhaug: Decent mocha, fine cookie, great atmosphere!
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Helmer Storhaug: Decent mocha, fine cookie, great atmosphere!

I walked to a couple nearby coffee shops.  The first was full to bursting.  The snacks looked really good but there was nowhere to sit, so I tried another.

There I got a tasty cookie and a mocha with very good coffee but not enough chocolate. I sipped it and wrote for almost four hours.

A nice book to see while traveling.
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A nice book to see while traveling.

I was pressed in by Norwegians on all sides having lively discussions, but I felt a bit lonely. Most of the time there’s been the constant sensory input of a new location, and the constant concentration of spinning the pedals and staying upright. But not today.

I realized I felt proud that I made this adventure happen.  Overall it felt like the right thing to do, even though my motives were complicated and I still couldn’t quite untangle them all, or perhaps even see them. I’ve been trying not to dwell on the big neon sign reading “UNEMPLOYED“, and trying not to let my mind drift too far into my finances. It’s only been three weeks and I’m still a really long way from even needing to dip into savings, but that paranoia is based on intense experience.

A couple weeks ago Michael said something that surprised me. “You know, you keep saying that this trip is irresponsible.  Like you’re an irresponsible person.  But you have this career, and you’ve been managing a property for ten years, doing all those repairs. You’re a really responsible person.  Isn’t that obvious to you?”

And I said: “Well, no. I don’t feel responsible.”

I’ve been supporting myself, trying to stay out of debt and build some kind of retirement plan, for so much of my life that it’s … unnatural I guess? … to have a different priority, even temporarily.

I want to pronounce it “skoal!”, like the road is giving a toast. But it’s “school”.
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I want to pronounce it “skoal!”, like the road is giving a toast. But it’s “school”.

The first coffee shop was between me and the hotel, so I checked inside and it was almost empty.  They had several savory things left to sell, including some sausage croissants that were amazing.  I got two of them, and a slice of quiche.  That plus the rest of the cookie and the fries from the previous day got me more than full.

Erling and Astrid Monuments

The cabin was very cozy in the morning, so I delayed checkout to the last minute. That meant I started out hungry. Alas, it would be a couple of hours before I’d roll into a town with a bakery.

In the meantime I went along the coast, and was shocked to see people out in wetsuits. This is a popular surfing spot apparently?

Psst… Hey buddy… Wanna rent a surfboard?
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Psst… Hey buddy… Wanna rent a surfboard?

Very brave surfers!
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Very brave surfers!

The Eurovelo route got strange for a while, sending me over a very bouncy footbridge. Sometimes I don’t think the people who assembled this route actually rode bicycles along it. They just saw a series of fanciful paths, bridges, and local monuments on a map and stitched them together.

Unexpected bridge!
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Unexpected bridge!

Farther inland I paused for a while to watch a tractor digging furrows, and the masses of seagulls swirling around it, picking bugs and worms out of the turned soil.

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A few miles after that I paused for a snack next to some noisy sheep. Always nice to have something to look at when you’re snacking.

The sheep are out in force today.
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The sheep are out in force today.

Along with living beasties, I had an encounter with an electronic one:

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At least it’s smart enough to avoid going in the road, unlike the sheep.

Feistein Lighthouse in the distance. Cool as heck, but not for tourists.
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Feistein Lighthouse in the distance. Cool as heck, but not for tourists.

The route returned to the coast, and for a while the uncomfortably cold air was the only thing reminding me I hadn’t been magically transported to Southern California.

Bits and pieces of costal forts, thankfully not needed. Or perhaps just obsolete.
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Bits and pieces of costal forts, thankfully not needed. Or perhaps just obsolete.

It looks pleasant, but sand on the road is not good for bikes!
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It looks pleasant, but sand on the road is not good for bikes!

Somewhere around here was a ruined and then restored church that was worth a gander… Turns out the Eurovelo runs right next to it. Probably on purpose.

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I found a kiosk with some context:

The Sola Church Ruin

The stone church dates back into the mid-12th century. It was likely built shortly after the Medieval cathedral in Stavanger and was in use until 1842.

The church was left in ruins until 1871, when artist Johan J. Bennetter acquired the property. He built his home and studio within the stone walls. In 1907 the family moved out and the church again fell into ruin. The remaining walls were finally torn down by German occupation forces in 1940.

Reconstruction began in the 1980s and was completed in 1995. The stone building of today reflects 900 years of history and architectural heritage.

Archaeological Excavations

Ahead of reconstructions, archaeologists uncov-ered several phases of an Iron Age farmstead under the church. They also found 31 Christian graves. One of the graves was the high-status burial of an elderly woman. She was swept in furs or cloth and laid to rest in a pine coffin with iron fittings. The dating of the grave is inconclusive. While a 12th century date is more likely, she was possibly buried already in the late Viking Age. During the late Viking age, it is assumed that Viking Chieftain Erling Skjalgsson lived here with his wife Astrid. He was a Christian man, and it is possible that they built a church on the farm more than a thousand years ago.

Can it be Astrid herself that was buried in such a prominent location, or perhaps another woman of her lineage? On the sign by the parking lot, you can read more about the Viking Age farmstead, Astrid and Erling.

The church itself was very thoughtfully restored. Due to its weird past, it seems a lot of the material just went missing, and the architects opted to replace it with modern materials instead, including large sheets of glass.

A delightful combination of old and new construction.
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A delightful combination of old and new construction.

Note the large chunk of glass protecting the archway.
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Note the large chunk of glass protecting the archway.

The view through the back of the church.
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The view through the back of the church.

Church interior.
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Church interior.

Note how you can see the outdoors by looking into the window!
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Note how you can see the outdoors by looking into the window!

Not enough stones to complete the wall? Put a window there!
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Not enough stones to complete the wall? Put a window there!

Though I was in the area to see the church, the two tall monolith-like structures next to it made me curious.

The Erling and Astrid Monuments.
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The Erling and Astrid Monuments.

A nearby kiosk had some interesting background on them:

Sign explaining the monuments next to the Sola Ruinkirke.
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Sign explaining the monuments next to the Sola Ruinkirke.

The Erling Monument

Hersen på Sola, Erling Skjalgsson, was a controversial figure in Norwegian history until the 1990s. In the 19th century, he was even referred to as a traitor for a period, because he had been in conflict with King Olav (Haraldsson) the Saint.

For many years, attempts were made to erect a monument to Erling på Sola without success, constantly stopped by influential people.
It was not until the early 1930s that parish priest Chr. Sole succeeded in erecting a monument in memory of Erling. The location at the church ruins was natural, as this was assumed at the time to be the remains of Erling’s church.

Over 3,000 people from all over North Jæren were present on Sunday, July 1, 1934, when King Haakon VII unveiled the monument. The king’s presence was the beginning of the restoration of Erling’s reputation and importance as a lord and ruler, in his time one of the most powerful men in the country.

Astrid-bautaen

Astrid Tryggvasdotter was the sister of King Olav Tryggvason and was married to Erling Skjalgsson around the year 996, as part of the alliance-building between King Olav Tryggvason and the lord of Sola, Erling Skjalgsson. Astrid was also the great-granddaughter of Harald Hårfagre on her father’s side and the granddaughter of the powerful Viking Eirik Bjodaskalle from Obrestad on her mother’s side.

Although little is known about her life after she married Erling, there is little doubt that Astrid was one of the most powerful and important women in the region’s history.

The monument to Astrid was erected in 2016 next to Erling-bautaen, and was a gift to the municipality and its inhabitants from the Sola Lions Club. The monument was unveiled by the President of the Storting, Olemic Thommessen.

Neat stuff!

I rode on. My destination was a sizable town named Stavanger, but first I had to pass through a smaller one named Tananger that had a nice bakery in it. Good place to pause for an hour and digest more food.

I bought a mocha, a croissant, and a slice of cake to feed my legs. The cashier talked to me in English, then talked to the next customer in Norwegian, then got on the phone and had a lively conversation with someone in Russian. Meanwhile, a young man at the table next to mine had a long phone conversation in English with a relative – his mother I think – about his job and future. I gathered that he was Canadian, working for an oil company, and his work hours didn’t let him leave the facility often. He didn’t have much of a social life.

“Yeah, I guess this is just like any other place,” he opined, sounding bored. “I dunno. It’s alright. I go to work, go to the grocery store, go to the gym. I can do that anywhere. I mean, I could see more of the country, but there are only two good hikes to do in Norway.”

I realized I didn’t like this kid. To myself I thought: Well is the problem that you don’t know, or that you don’t care?  If you don’t know, you can fix that.  But if you don’t care, you have a real problem…

“Oh yeah they have a good ferry system,” he said. “I could go all the way up the country. But I dunno, long boat rides are scary right now. Did you hear about that cruise ship with the outbreak? Yeah, they say it was rats. People breathing rat turds. I don’t want to deal with that…”

I knew I was overhearing something I shouldn’t. People don’t want their fears being judged by strangers. I finished the croissant and turned on the noise cancellation in my headphones to drown him out. The last thought I had about it was: Wow, people’s ideas of risk can have so much variation. That probably explains a lot of the way the world is…

As I was leaving town, a cluster of teenagers on motorized scooters went blazing down the road past me, then bumped onto the sidewalk, turned around, and went blazing back the other way. The kid in the lead had the fanciest scooter, with large off-road tires. The local James Dean.

On the edge of town, a different bunch of kids came running out of a restaurant and excitedly chased the bike for a dozen yards while I waved at them.  Their parents emerged a bit later carrying to-go food.

I turned west and went over a large hill, then found a bike path that began to slope downward and cut through a lot of suburbs. Pretty soon I was down by the sea again, in the heart of Stavanger.

A fallow field. Reminds me of a similar scene in Kansas, actually.
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A fallow field. Reminds me of a similar scene in Kansas, actually.

Aha! I must be close.
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Aha! I must be close.

Another bike path carving down towards the city center. I approve.
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Another bike path carving down towards the city center. I approve.

This is the most dense urban area I’ve been in since Hamburg almost 2 weeks ago.
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This is the most dense urban area I’ve been in since Hamburg almost 2 weeks ago.

Yes, that’s a massive Burger King right in the center of the tourist district. It’s popular too.
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Yes, that’s a massive Burger King right in the center of the tourist district. It’s popular too.

Stavanger city center is very touristy.  It’s disorienting after cycling through the hinterlands and mostly seeing shy rugged locals.

I checked in and did some sink laundry. Then it was time to find food, and since I was in an urban setting I deployed my FANCY shirt for the first time!

Another day with access to a shower… Another round of shower laundry!
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Another day with access to a shower… Another round of shower laundry!

Ready for an outing in my fancy shirt!
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Ready for an outing in my fancy shirt!

Fish soup was very tasty but not filling.

Fish stew and bread. Late lunch, and not quite enough for a complete dinner.
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Fish stew and bread. Late lunch, and not quite enough for a complete dinner.

As I ate, I went through the local ferry schedule on my phone and decided to skip most of the island-hopping part of the Eurovelo 1, because it was a scheduling headache. The ferries arrived late, and the campsites I needed to stay at were on the other side of large hills that would take all day to climb. Not a good combo.

When that meal was done I walked the bike another four blocks and sat down at another restaurant. Bike tour appetite! I got fish and chips but was less interested in the chip than usual, so I boxed them up.

Out the window I saw a guy walking by carrying a huge fluffy cat over one shoulder. A Norwegian Forest Cat perhaps? It was looking around very curiously.

Two old gentlemen next to me had a discussion about Ukraine in Norwegian.  I couldn’t parse much of it, but at one point they drew the nearby waitress in, and asked about her accent. She confessed that she was Ukrainian, and both men went “справа Украине!” She grinned. They talked a bit more but I couldn’t decipher it.

With my fries tucked away, I walked the bike through the rest of the wharf district. Restaurants and pubs were either shutting down or cranking up the music. The architecture was lovely but I felt strangely ill-at-ease. Perhaps it was the press of tourists? The poor signage and the lack of bike accommodations wasn’t helping. Google Maps kept telling me to ride the bike down staircases. How long has that been a problem here? 

The tourist section on the waterfront. Loud and a little scary, relative to the Norway vibe I’m used to.
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The tourist section on the waterfront. Loud and a little scary, relative to the Norway vibe I’m used to.

That’s some rust-free junk! It must be good luck.
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That’s some rust-free junk! It must be good luck.

Sven Oftedal. A well-traveled character.
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Sven Oftedal. A well-traveled character.

Manhole Gallery: Ulefos Odin-L, west of Stavanger.
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Manhole Gallery: Ulefos Odin-L, west of Stavanger.

I wandered for quite a while, passing a few parks, some statues, the church… After weeks of the very Norwegian countryside, I felt like I was in a place that didn’t have a real personality.

The big old church wasn’t very distinctive. I’d seen a bunch of cities in Norway already with old central churches.  The park area with the fountain was not particularly grand or manicured.  The cobblestone tourist district had the usual boutique shops and pubs, but I’d seen Norway’s version of that before. The tourists walking around in it had that “blatantly rich” style that’s all designer jeans, handbags, interchangeable jewelry, odd-looking hair or skin that’s had a bit too much attention lavished on it — a lift, a lot of tanning, meticulous plucking, et cetera. And they had such dour expressions, like they weren’t even having a good time. Were they wandering around for a few days between legs of a cruise, or did they actually have business here?  No idea. In the rest of Norway, people look up and even smile when they see the weird guy on the bike – even young women – but here, they don’t.  They watch from the corner of their eye instead.

This city doesn’t really feel like Norway.  It feels more like a coastal version of Hamburg. Perhaps it’s the very active port…

A giant finger

A bit chilly for the first half of the night…
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A bit chilly for the first half of the night…

I was quite comfortable in the sleeping bag, though wearing my “sea captain” sweater and my rain pants and two pairs of socks did seem a bit extreme…

I had some trouble redeeming my deposit at the ATM thing in the wall, but the attendant was on-site, sharing a giant pizza with the rest of the staff, and she worked the machine at the desk inside the reception area and I got my ten bucks back.

Continuing northwest along the cost, I started to see real chunks of flat farmland.  I wondered if this region is a sort of “bread basket” for Norway.  Poking around in Google Earth I didn’t see much other flat terrain in the whole country.

Step 1: Clear the rocks out of the field. Step 2: Use the rocks to make walls.
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Step 1: Clear the rocks out of the field. Step 2: Use the rocks to make walls.

Huh. A moment ago this was a paved road…
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Huh. A moment ago this was a paved road…

Cows at the seashore.
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Cows at the seashore.

It’s bumpy, but pleasant.
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It’s bumpy, but pleasant.

The road rambled along the coast for a while, then was interrupted by a farm gate, marked with a sign. I took the cue and stopped for a snack.

A lttle introduction to this section of road, the “North Sea Cycle Route.”
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A lttle introduction to this section of road, the “North Sea Cycle Route.”

The sign translated more-or-less as follows:

“Welcome to a trip on Kongevegen. A collaboration between the landowners and Hå municipality has allowed parts of the old road to be opened to public traffic. The road is currently used by the farm for transport and service roads, so animals have the right of way.”

“Large parts of the road pass through agricultural areas, which means that everyone must respect the requirement for a lane restriction. Farmers have a right to euthanize any dog that causes damage to animals.”

“There are many rare plants and flowers along the road, which runs partly through the Jærstrendene landscape park. In the Reime area, it is forbidden to take flowers or other plants with you. You can, however, take the nature experience with you.”

Obrestad Lighthouse in the distance.
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Obrestad Lighthouse in the distance.

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The sound of the surf and nearby animals was pleasant, and I made a short recording with my phone. While that went, I chomped on a sandwich I’d bought the previous day. Another traveler came by on foot and opened the gate, which made a loud squeal. He shut it carefully, grinned and waved at me, and kept going. A nice encounter but it meant I had to edit the recording!

The dirt road became a gravel trail, then went through a small park and joined a regular paved road. The Eurovelo route sent me through a rural area and over a few steep hills. At the top of one I spied a strange object:

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The words translate to “nose station”.

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I have no idea what that’s all about.

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The finger wasn’t the only oversized object I found on the day’s ride…

A fun idea, but does it work?
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A fun idea, but does it work?

… Nor was it the only object that has been adapted for some other purpose.

It’s small, but it’s warm. That counts for a lot.
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It’s small, but it’s warm. That counts for a lot.

My cabin for the night was just the right size. Easy to heat, and enough room to stretch out. I sorted photos and chatted with my friend Matt about our shared experience with corporate burnout and the rapid evolution of “A.I.” tools in our industry. I was in a dark moment and made the following prediction:

“In the same way that sturdy hiking shoes let a person’s feet stay soft for their entire life with no consequence, ubiquitous AI assistance will let people‘s critical thinking skills stay completely undeveloped from birth to death, and like a good pair of hiking shoes now, we will see it as liberating, and progress.”

I’ve been right about a lot of this technology in the last few years … but I honestly hope my long-term ideas are wrong.

Dig that combination of hot plates and toaster oven. Looks dangerous!
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Dig that combination of hot plates and toaster oven. Looks dangerous!

Near the cabin was a common cooking area that was a little too compact.

The last thing I did before bed was stitch together my GPS recordings, to get an idea of my progress around Norway so far. Not bad!

A little over a week of riding. Not bad, really.
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A little over a week of riding. Not bad, really.

Optimal Funksjon

I woke up in the wee cabin with about 45 minutes to pack everything, which turned out to be enough.

I dropped off the key, washed my face in the common bathrooms, then headed down to a bakery and bought a croissant and donut. I ate the croissant immediately. Not bad! Still needed coffee though, so I went in search of that and found a tiny café with some outdoor seating.

A cozy little kaffebar to settle down and do some planning.
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A cozy little kaffebar to settle down and do some planning.

When I walked into the café, a couple of women in the back were having a conversation about work in English. As soon as I ordered a mocha with an American accent, they both switched to Norwegian, with a few English phrases mixed in, possibly out of a desire to remain more anonymous around this American stranger, or possibly out of a desire to make it obvious that they weren’t talking to me.

Either way, it reminded me of how people back home would sometimes switch between Spanish and English in the middle of a sentence, and how I was witnessing in both cases the blending of two languages. How far did that blending actually go, here in Norway? As usual, I was curious.

May all your days have optimal funksjon!
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May all your days have optimal funksjon!

I jammed my mocha into the bicycle cupholder and found the Eurovelo route again, headed northwest. It approached a tunnel and then sidestepped it, onto a gravel path that followed some train tracks at the shore of a lake.

Too fast, too narrow. Luckily there’s a tunnel bypass just for cyclists.
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Too fast, too narrow. Luckily there’s a tunnel bypass just for cyclists.

Unfortunately the tunnel bypass is gravel, and steep. But still, much safer.
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Unfortunately the tunnel bypass is gravel, and steep. But still, much safer.

The cyclists even get a bypass for the train! I like this royal treatment.
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The cyclists even get a bypass for the train! I like this royal treatment.

As I stood here, a small passenger train made its way into the tunnel.
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As I stood here, a small passenger train made its way into the tunnel.

The mountain ends before the tunnel does. Good idea.
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The mountain ends before the tunnel does. Good idea.

Partway over a hill I found this sign, about a couple of World War II pilots who had died in the area:

Interesting bit of local history.
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Interesting bit of local history.

After reading it, I was struck all over again by the way English translations are so frequently provided right alongside Norwegian, and thought about what it must be like to live in a culture that has a “native” language – at least, a language that did not clearly arrive by displacing an earlier one – and how it must feel to see that language being displaced in real time. Norwegians must be concerned about the loss, as young people find that English or Chinese are more utilitarian and give them access to a wider world.

I don’t know how well I can relate to that concern personally. My own language has certainly drifted a lot in the three or four cultural generations I’ve lived through, but the process doesn’t have the feel of a foreign invasion, more like change from within. Plenty of vocabulary in the cultural and technological moments I grew up in (“dialtone”, “hella”, ironic use of “yo” by white people, etc), has moved into history and nostalgia, and added to a sense of disconnection between me and young people, but … I’ve realized that I’m being subject to the same disconnection that I inflicted on my parents’ generation. So I can’t really complain.

I also believe that language is remarkably agnostic about morals. In fact, it seems more like a passive reflection of moral attitudes as they change — for example, the replacement of “he” as the default singular pronoun in English with “they”. To me, this change is a good thing because I agree with the attitude that’s prompting it: Why should an anonymous person be male by default, when men and women do things? If I didn’t agree with the change, I would probably feel a sense of panic, and probably feel like I needed to reinforce the old “rules” in order to prevent the cultural change from happening. But I’d be fighting a symptom, not a cause.

What the Norwegians are going through is something more profound than I’ve experienced though. English and Norwegian are not hybridizing into something else, as far as I can tell. There’s too much pressure on correct use of English from outside. If there’s a battle happening and Norwegian is losing, that means there is a real loss happening: The loss of easy access to history – written and spoken – to art, to personal family legacy, et cetera.

I can relate to that, but only distantly, which is kind of its own tragedy: One of my grandfathers spoke Danish as a kid, another grew up in a household that spoke German. Both habits were aggressively discouraged in favor of English because that was the common language of the country they immigrated to. There was a loss, but it happened before I was born. Perhaps that loss is now being addressed in some way by my exploration of these other countries…

Would it have been better for America overall, over the last few centuries, if the country had taken a much more relaxed view of multilingualism? If the pockets of German, Irish, Spanish, French, Dutch, Danish, Russian, Chinese, Vietnamese, had somehow been encouraged to grow, while remaining distinct, instead of being stomped on in public education?

I know it’s a very academic question, but I do wonder about it. Especially now that I’m wandering around in a region where you just can’t assume the people you meet will understand you, and you need to negotiate among two or three languages to start a conversation, which is then sometimes hesitant. Do Americans derive more benefit from generally speaking only one language, than the benefit they might derive from the experience of language diversity from one region to the next?  Does the sense of unity and the ease of interaction with even distantly located people compensate for the lack of cultural diversity?

Or perhaps this question is based on a false choice: Perhaps what we believe is a unified experience of English has actually become cluttered with local idioms and slang, if we dig down past the surface in any particular place.  My nephew Darren lives only a couple hundred miles from me, and could certainly speak exactly the same language as I do, but he also knows an encyclopedia of slang that I couldn’t keep up with even if I pursued it like a college curriculum. And if he used it while speaking to me, I’d be lost.

Maybe the “Jurassic Park” aphorism about natural selection is appropriate: “Diversity finds a way.” Dozens of languages were stomped on as America grew, clear-cutting a space for a unified but young culture to appear, and now it’s showing a bit of the depth that is much more common elsewhere in the world. For example, here in Norway…

The gravel is slow, but the view and the relative quiet are lovely.
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The gravel is slow, but the view and the relative quiet are lovely.

need to take a break in some alligator jaws? Go this way.
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need to take a break in some alligator jaws? Go this way.

Really enjoying this ascot thingy!
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Really enjoying this ascot thingy!

No need to run a cable if you have enough solar… But does it last long enough in the winter?
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No need to run a cable if you have enough solar… But does it last long enough in the winter?

The gravel path had a few very steep hills that made me grumble, but compensated for it with some cute tunnels and by being generally deserted. Only a few cyclists passed me, and a few more people on foot, over the next three hours or so.

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The path met a smaller more isolated lake, and I stopped for a while to enjoy the scene.

I stopped for a bit to soak my bandana.
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I stopped for a bit to soak my bandana.

Eventually I reached a country road, then a paved one with some real traffic.

A sign for the “St Olav’s Way” cycling route.
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A sign for the “St Olav’s Way” cycling route.

The Hellviksplitt quarry.
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The Hellviksplitt quarry.

Taking advantage of the good weather to vacuum up grass!
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Taking advantage of the good weather to vacuum up grass!

Fancy set of wheels!
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Fancy set of wheels!

Info about the formation of this region, and how it compares to the surface of the moon.
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Info about the formation of this region, and how it compares to the surface of the moon.

The official route was taking me into a preserve, with an old road running through it that was closed to motorized traffic: The “Old Main Road Of West Norway.” It promised more hills and gravel, and I don’t mind hills but I hate gravel. I almost turned south to avoid it. Then I did some scrolling on my phone and realized the preserve wasn’t actually very big. I figured I could tolerate gravel for a while in exchange for nice scenery.

I also crossed another route, called “The Footsteps Of St Olav“. Compelling, but it would have taken me inland.

A very Norwegian wall.
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A very Norwegian wall.

So much green happening here!
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So much green happening here!

Info about the “Old West Norway Road”, to help you decide whether to cycle it.
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Info about the “Old West Norway Road”, to help you decide whether to cycle it.

A more detailed description of the Westland route.
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A more detailed description of the Westland route.

A rock wall ran along the north side of the road. Staring at it, I felt like I could identify a Norwegian farm in photographs just by looking at the kinds of rocks in the walls: They tend to be large and rounded, leaving big gaps, and also generally free of plants because of all the snow they get covered in.

The weather was great for the time of year. Still cold, but no rain. I reminded myself that I could go just as slow as I wanted because the daylight would last very long, and I was camping so I didn’t need to check into a room.

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The old road had informative kiosks every couple of kilometers. I took pictures of them all, then translated them later and learned a lot about the region I’d crossed.

Westland Road Sign 1
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Westland Road Sign 1

Train Station For Travelers

For those traveling over longer distances, it was necessary in earlier times to have guesthouses and carriage stations at regular intervals. There were carriage stations at Hegrestad and at Kvianes in Ogna. Here, travelers could change horses and carriages. They could also get food and accommodation.

Many traveling people stopped by Hegrestad train station, and it was a lot of fun to say the least. The house is now demolished. (It stood on the first hilltop up from the R44 in Hegrestad, on the right side of the road.)

As conditions changed, there was no longer a need for train stations and train interchanges. The train stations in Ogna and Hegrestad were closed in 1894.

“Doomsday”

One of the first people to get a car in Rogaland was grocer Ludvig Helland. He came from Hellvik, but lived in Stavanger. Late one evening he drove to Hellvik, but had trouble getting over a hill. He tried and tried, and the engine made a lot of noise. One of those who heard the commotion was Alette Hegrestad, and it is said that she wondered if it was doomsday. This is said to have happened around 1915.

In the 1920s and 30s, cars were still rare. If one came along the road, the kids would shout “Car, car”, and run to find out, said Lars Hegrestad. They always knew what time the grocer Johan Bjorheim from Stavanger arrived, since blew the horn before every turn.

In the summer months, the bandits would walk along the road, often in groups of two or three, but also whole families. The Fantasteinen just above Hegrestadgardane got its name from these. Before the forest grew, you could see the farm from the Fantasteinen. If the bandits arrived early in the afternoon, they would wait here until it was time for supper, and then go down to Hegrestadgardarte. There they would get food and sleep in barns or huts.

During Prohibition in the early 1920s, some smuggling is said to have taken place along Den Vestlandske Hovedvei.

Large quantities of alcohol were stored under Kjerringhedleren by Ulvhusvatnet, it is said. The alcohol is said to have come by sea to Egersund and the surrounding ports, and then been transported by car to Sandnes and Stavanger.

Very idyllic! But still colder than it looks.
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Very idyllic! But still colder than it looks.

I had to brake slowly down this for the sake of my skinny tires…
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I had to brake slowly down this for the sake of my skinny tires…

A nice day out in the (chilly) country!
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A nice day out in the (chilly) country!

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Westland Road Sign 2

Mail Transport – Not For “Small Children or Quindfolck”

The mail had to arrive, cost what it would cost, in the old days.. When the post horn rang, other travelers had to wait. Stavanger was connected to the postal network in 1653, six years after the postal service was established in Norway. The mail was to go between Stavanger and Kristiania once a week.

According to a postal regulation of 25 December 1694, the mail was to go from Stavanger on Saturday afternoon, and from Kristiansand on Friday afternoon the following week. The mail did not arrive in Kristiania for two weeks after it left Stavanger.  A reply could be expected at the earliest four weeks after the letter was sent.

In the beginning, the farmers were responsible for the transport.  The postmen were obliged to take the mail on to the next post office, a mile or two away, every week, night or day in all kinds of weather. They did not receive a salary, but did not have to pay taxes and were exempt from military service.

In a decree from King Frederick in 1650, it was stated that the bailiffs were to see to it that the postmen were always ready with a cart and a horse. They couldn’t slouch by sending the postbag with “small children or Quindfolck…”

The instructions said that the mail must not rest. From a post office in Dalane it was said that a sack was hung from the ceiling and it was swung back and forth for a whole night to avoid having to go out in the dark and bad weather.

The volume of mail was not large in those days.  At the beginning of the 19th century, no more than one letter sack was sent to Kristiansand, and from there only one bag of letters to Stavanger. Next to the sealed mail was a “flap” for the local correspondence. This was mostly used by the civil servants.

The first half of the 19th century saw a rich development of postal services and the postal network. The volume of mail increased and numerous post offices were opened along the routes. In 1837, the postal administration ordinance was introduced.  The farmers were now paid for their work and began to drive the mail by horse and cart.

The postage varied with the distance until in 1854, a uniform postage was introduced for the entire country. The first stamp came the following year and had the value of four shillings.  From 1866, books and printed matter could be sent together with the letter mail.

Rapid Telegraph Expansion

1857 the telegraph came to Rogaland, two years after the Norwegian state telegraph had officially been opened. The telegraph line followed the road between Hegrestad and Hølland, and the government proposed a new main line should be laid from Mandal to Bergen.  Parliament approved money for the facility in March 1857. Several main lines had already been built.  The telegraph was seen as very important for the economic development of the country.

A hectic work season began.  Pole after pole was erected on the line between Mandal and Bergen in late summer of the same year. The telegraph stations in Flekkefjord and Egersund opened in August, while in September, stations were opened in Stavanger, Haugesund, Leirvik and Bergen.  16,000 people were connected to the 4 stations along the Mandal – Stavanger line. Most of them – 12,000 – lived in Stavanger.

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The area was so quiet I decided to try using the tiny drone again, for a dramatic picture. Pretty cool!

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At A Good Speed Down, To Clear The Next Uphill

The first road over Hegrestad Mountain was built as a bridleway in the period 1810-1820. Before that time, there was a bridleway from Ogna via Sirevåg to Hellvikbukta – from there you had to take a boat.

In the early 18th century, the bridleway was re-laid and shortened somewhat, but even now it ends in Hellvik.

At the time when it was only a bridleway, the villagers still usually walked when they went to church in Ogna. The priest came from Egersund. According to an agreement from 1710, the villagers in Ogna were to keep riding horses for the priest over the mountain, when there was a service in the church in Ogna.

Around 1820, the road was improved, so it could be driven by cart. Few people had such vehicles at the time. Farmers did not have carts until well into the 19th century. When they had to transport goods, they used sledges in winter and forked in summer.

Around 1800, the principle for road construction was that the road should go as straight as possible. This construction method was a legacy from the Danish era. In hilly landscapes, there were many steep slopes, which were often called horse-drawn carts. With all the inclines, the road was not very suitable for horse transport with large loads.

The construction method also created difficulties for newer vehicles. The cars that were put into use over Hegrestadfjellet in the early 20th century had to accelerate downhill to make it up the next hill.

Right up until the First World War, there was great opposition in the Storting against a large-scale investment in the car.

In 1908, the Rogaland County Council passed the “Regulations for the Use of Motor Vehicles on Public Roads within the County”. County Engineer Bassøe wanted to restrict the permit to apply to cars on the road:

“The horses will soon get used to such cars. On the other hand, in my opinion, no permit should be given for pleasure driving with cars, as such driving will be an extremely large inconvenience and of almost no benefit.”

The Road Act of 1912 stated that in principle it should be permitted to use cars on all public roads, streets and squares. The speed limits were 15 km per hour in built-up areas and 25 km per hour outside built-up areas. When it was dark, no one was allowed to drive faster than 15 km per hour.

Traffic along the road increased dramatically during the almost 100 years that the road over Hegrestadfjellet was in use. In the late 1930s, chief engineer Th. Riis declared this road completely impossible, and it was closed as a national road in 1940.

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I tried to deploy the little drone in “follow” mode, but after about 100 meters it smacked into a tree branch and fell into some bushes. I was very lucky to spot it afterwards. It should make some kind of ‘ping’ noise after it drops…

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Westland Road Sign 4

Peasant Rebellion Against Forced Labour

Much of the Western Main Road was built by forced labour in accordance with the Road Act of 1824. Many farmers had a staunchly negative attitude towards road construction. A story is told about this from the time when the main road was to be built:

Crew from the entire county were ordered to participate in the construction, but several of the farmers from Karmøy refused. This was seen as a rebellion and Danish warships were therefore sent to Kopervik. The ship’s commander arranged a party on board and invited the city’s best men to participate, primarily Knud Syre, who was the leader of the farmers. After treating them to good drinks so that several fell asleep, the ship put to sea, and the rebels were thus taken to Copenhagen. With the exception of Syre, everyone was sent home the next day with a fatherly admonition to “be obedient to superior authorities” from now on. Knud Syre was held prisoner for one year before he was released.

Dynamite was not used in road construction until the 1860s. The rock was blasted by first drilling holes with a hand drill and chisel. The holes were then filled with gunpowder.  Other tools used were sledgehammers, chisels, hoe, diggers and shovels. The largest stones were dislodged with picks and the masses were moved away with troughs and wheelbarrows.

Hølland Bridge was built as part of the Vestlandske Hovedvei in 1843 by the famous bridge builder Andreas Aanonsen. A total of 16 stone arch bridges were built on the Vestlandske Hovedvei, with spans ranging from 6.9 to 8.7 meters.  The county paid for the bridge without any subsidies from the state. The cost of the Holland Bridge alone is not known, but Ogna and Hollarrar Bridge cost a total of 2,164 spesiedalar (NOK 8,656).

Bridge Construction

The bridge was built of natural stone. The stone was divided using wedges and blocks, which were placed in a row. The wedge was driven between the blocks and helped to split the stone. In order to straighten and fit the stone precisely, different sets of wedges were used. The “double” set was used to give the stone shape, the “spike” set was used to level the surfaces so that the stones fit together well.

The construction method is briefly outlined as follows:

  • Lay a foundation with coarse stone and crushed stone
  • Build a bridge deck, possibly of pillars.
  • Stabilize the riverbed around with large, flat stone slabs
  • Erect wooden scaffolding as a framework for the arch
  • Construct the masonry of the stone arch

The principle of the arch bridge is that the stones should transfer the pressure from each other down to the foundation. The capstone, or crown stone, is the name of the stone that “locks” the arch at the top.  The more pressure you put on the arch, the more the stones are pressed together, maintaining the structure.

Holland Bridge has required little maintenance.

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Westland Road Sign 5

The Road Should Be As Wide As A Spear

The entire Gulating Act from the year 950 mentions road rights and road maintenance.

“The road shall lie where he always has a doctor”, the law states. The road was to be as wide as a spear was long, about three meters. The farmers were to maintain the roads.

Magnus Lagabøter’s Landslov from the year 1274 contains many of the same provisions as the Gulating Act. The road width on the main roads was now to be 8 ells (about 5 meters). The king’s ombudsman was given responsibility for inspecting the roads.

He did the inspection by holding a bowstring. An 8 ell long spear with wicker handles on the spear tips was placed across the saddle button of the horse. For each branch or twig torn from a wicker handle, the farmer in question had to pay one ørtug of silver (9.83 grams) to the king.

More recent laws also maintained the principle that farmers should be responsible for the maintenance of the roads. In the 18th century, farmers with this responsibility were given the title of “Rode”-Master, a title that gave status. The “rode” was the portion of the road that they were to maintain.  “Every rode-master shall make a road post, which is placed at the beginning of his road” was stated in a royal decree from 1792. The farmer was to see the road as his property, and “show diligence”.

In 1824, the first special road law came from “Carl Johan of God’s grace, King of Sweden and Norway”. It contains, among other things, provisions on the division of roads into main roads and rural roads, the sharing of costs and the sectioning of roads. The law stipulated that the county should cover the costs of public roads, and that the county governor should supervise the roads.

The law maintained the system of compulsory work, even when it came to new construction. When new roads were to be built at the county’s expense, farmers were obliged to perform up to 8 days of road work, without payment, each summer until the road was completed.

The rules for road standards stated, among other things, that:

  • All bridges on main roads must be built of stone.
  • All roads must have ditches.
  • All main roads must be marked with milestones and signposts.

The law did not say anything about maximum gradients, and gradients of up to 1:5 were accepted on roadways and 1:3 on bridleways.

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Rare Rocks And Exciting Wildlife

The Swede Edvard Fölch rode across Jæren in 1817, and wrote the following in his diary: “Near Varhaug I began to follow the low-lying seashore, after half an hour’s ride I came to the most eerie mountains I have yet crossed.”

It is the rare bedrock rock anorthosite that makes up these “most eerie mountains” in Dalane. The anorthosite was formed more than a billion years ago, from molten mass that solidified 25 kilometers below the earth’s surface. Later, the mass cracked open, and new rock types – norite and diabase – floated into the cracks and solidified there. Along some of these passages, the blue-black, matte titanium igneous rock – ilmenite – was precipitated.

Natural forces took 1,000 million years to wear away the 25 kilometers of mountains that lay over the anorthosite. After another 50 million years of new chemical and physical weathering, the landscape became what it looks like today.

Anorthosite rocks provide loose soil, which is why the area is dominated by bare hills and mountains.

Along the Vestlandske Hovedvei you can also see labradorizing anorthosite. Labradorization is a play of colors in blue, green, or yellow, which is visible in fracture surfaces in the anorthosite. The colors come from internal reflections in feldspar crystals with a special composition.

The King Of The Forest And The “Masked” Predator

Place names such as Ulvhusvatnet and Skrubbemyra testify to the presence of large predators here in earlier times. Today, hikers will not see wolves in the Hegrestad Mountains, but you can encounter many different kinds of animals and birds.

The largest predator in the area is the badger. It is a distinctive animal, with a black and white “mask”. The rest of the fur is gray and even though the badger is around 80 cm long, it is not easy to catch sight of. The badger is also a distinctly nocturnal animal.

The king of the forest – the moose – is a newcomer to the area. If you do not see the moose itself, you may be able to find traces of it in the form of hoof prints or dung.

Moose tracks are 13-15 cm long and 11-13 cm wide. A somewhat smaller deer, the roe deer, is also found here. Roe deer tracks are 4-5 cm long and can resemble sheep.

The hare is the most common larger mammal. The spring hare does not turn white in winter, as it is adapted to the mild snow-poor climate.

The largest owl of the spring – the hubbro – lives here, but is rarely seen during the day. Barn owls also nest in the area in small rodent years.

The pied piper and the tern are two of the more common bird species, and you have a good chance of spotting them along the way.

The stone plover is easy to recognize by the fact that he sits and wags his tail. The tiny grey-brown pied piper lets out a characteristic sound (ist-ist). Both the stone plover and the pied piper have adapted to the barren landscape.

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Somebody made this rock its own picnic table! Now it can have lunch!
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Somebody made this rock its own picnic table! Now it can have lunch!

A gate to keep to riff-raff off the trail.
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A gate to keep to riff-raff off the trail.

Some serious greeenhouse happening here.
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Some serious greeenhouse happening here.

Seems like a nice place to hang out on a winter day.
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Seems like a nice place to hang out on a winter day.

It’s a whole different world in there…
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It’s a whole different world in there…

Stopping for a peek in the windows.
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Stopping for a peek in the windows.

So many flowers!
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So many flowers!

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Another, somewhat different, description of the region.
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Another, somewhat different, description of the region.

I didn’t get a good picture of this bridge, but I swear I rode across it!
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I didn’t get a good picture of this bridge, but I swear I rode across it!

All About Hølland Bridge

The bridge is part of the road 4328 over the Ogna River at Holland, about 1 km east of the center of Ogna. The bridge, which has three openings, is built of natural stone laid in mortar.

There are brick railings at the ends of the bridge. Above the bridge there is an iron railing with cast iron pillars. The riverbed under the bridge is paved with stone.

Holland Bridge was built as part of the Vestlandske Hovedveg. It was built by Andreas Aanensen. It was paid for by the county without any subsidies from the state.

The costs of Holland Bridge alone are not known because Aanensen had tendered for this bridge and Helgå Bridge in the same contract. Both bridges cost 2,164 spesidals (NOK 8,656).

From 1843 to the 2020s, there has been little need for maintenance. | In 1901 and 1919, the bridge was pinned, i.e. smaller stones were wedged into the cracks. New cement was also added to the joints and a stone fill was laid on the southeast side of the bridge.

Towards the 2020s, it became clear that the bridge from 1843 was not built for traffic with semi-trailers and milk trucks. The wall in the northwest was collapsing and the bridge itself showed signs that its load-bearing capacity was occasionally exceeded.

In 2024, the bridge was therefore reinforced with reinforced concrete in the arches and a continuous concrete deck along its entire length. The two walls on the Ogna side (northwest) were rebuilt. On the remaining side, only minor repairs were necessary. The bridge also received a crash barrier on the inside, and the outer railing was replaced with a new one in the same style. The repair cost around 22.5 million, and it was assumed that the bridge’s lifespan would be extended by at least 100 years.

The bridge was part of the main road network until 1940, when the national road was realigned and Holland Bridge was downgraded to a rural road. In 1964 it became part of the county road network.

Manhole Gallery: Ha Kommune
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Manhole Gallery: Ha Kommune

That really does NOT look like a good idea.
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That really does NOT look like a good idea.

An interesting collection of roadside attractions and personality.
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An interesting collection of roadside attractions and personality.

When I rolled into the campground I discovered it was fully automated. Campers paid for their spots and got access to the bathrooms by loading money onto a plastic card at an ATM-like installation. I wasn’t certain I was doing the currency conversion right, but it looked like they charged seven bucks to get into the bathroom and use the showers.

I’ll toss my pee in the bushes, thanks.  What’s that? You don’t want pee all over your campsite?  Hey, I’ll use your toilet instead, no problem … just pay me seven bucks.

I found a nice spot with some wind cover. When I crawled into the sleeping bag I kept all my layers on, since it was going to drop below freezing.

Took a while to find a spot out of the wind…
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Took a while to find a spot out of the wind…

Enjoying a sandwich before bed.
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Enjoying a sandwich before bed.

Pretty soon it got too cold to use the phone or type. Keeping my hands outside the sleeping bag made them numb.