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We must be free or die.
- William Wordsworth
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A day trip back home

Saturday 13th, I drove down to my old hometown of Hønefoss, to stuff face with some old friends and to witness my brother hollering at an outside pizza restaurant right next to the building my grandparents owned when I was little. To the best of my knowledge, it still carries my family name. My old friend Per Magnus and his magnificent girlfriend, Nui. They met at a shooting competition in Thailand a couple of years back and she's temporarily stuck in Norway due to the corona crisis. She keeps busy feeding him all this yummy Thai food and I can only look on in silent despair at their Facebook posts. Mmmmmm, Thai food. This picture was taken at 11:15PM Saturday night. That big ole building is my old elementary school, where I attended 3rd through 6th grade (this was back when the compulsory part of school was only nine years in Norway). The school is closing this year, although they may use it next year too iffin the corona virus is still a threat. Look at how LIGHT it is... This pi...
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To the west coast by a new route

Tuesday, I set out for the west coast. I had originally intended to go the usual way over the mountains and down Lærdal to Sogndal, then along the Sognefjord to Fortun and up the hillside into the mountains. However, my landlady had tipped me that there was another road, going down to Årdal and then up into the mountains further east. So I took that one instead The first deviation from the "normal" route comes at Tyin, where you take the road down to Årdal. The road takes you past still icy lakes, snow-clad mountains and waterfalls galore. A couple of miles after you take off towards Årdal (road 53), is lake Tyin . In mid-June it was still mostly frozen. From the lake, the river Tya runs through several small lakes down into lake Årdalsvatnet, which again empties out into the Atlantic Ocean. There's tons of water coming down the mountainside everywhere you look. This is Lake Holsbru, the last lake before the river starts falling deep, deep down into Årdalsvatnet. The sign...
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Return to Callander

My work schedule allowed me to leave Norway early enough to squeeze in TWO Wednesdays in Callander. The last one was well spent with feeding the cattle, eating at the the hotel restaurant and foot-stomping with the guys of Pure Malt. I love the silly bovines at the Trossach Mill, they never fail to amuse me. I arrive in the afternoon, go in and buy three small bags of sliced up potatoes and carrots, then walk over to the fence. Mama Honey is in the corner, chewing pensively and can't be stirred. After some coaching, sweet little Holly gets up and comes over to see what's on the menu. And here's the thing: She's become so spoiled that she doesn't even WANT the potatoes. I reach out and hold the potato up to her mouth. She either turns away or opens up halfway, only to drop it once I let go. The carrots, however, go down as always. I have proof here: So, I find myself feeding Holly ONLY carrots. Then big ole Hamish, the black bull, starts wandering over. So I turn my ...
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