5722 Dale, Norway

The mountains surrounding Dale into which I hiked were astounding, like walking through Middle Earth. I took the train from Bergen and then hitchhiked up to the trailhead. Margaret and Finn were my kind drivers, a couple of pensioners with a cottage nearby. After dolling out advice about the hike and paternal question after question about whether I had this, that and the other thing in my pack, we reached the trailhead and said goodbye to each other. "Remember," said Finn, "if you get upstairs and you see fog rolling over the mountains, turn around." "Yes, sir! Fog upstairs!" I said, and off I went.

As I was walking the road back down to Dale with my thumb out, who did I happen to meet walking the other way? Margaret and Finn! It was a happy meeting, at the end of which Margaret asked for an address where she could send me a card. I hope I hear from them.

About a half mile further I was able to hitch a ride, this time all the way back to Bergen, with a retired container ship captain named Per. It was a beautiful day for a drive through the fjords.