Rjukan

After Farsund, we unpacked our bags, washed our clothes, and packed again, this time for Rjukan. One of our classmates from last year had asked those of us who knew we were continuing to play for Kjerringsveiven. We had eagerly said yes to a paid gig.

On Thursday we packed everything we could into our little car and drove over the mountain to Rjukan. The car was never really built for four people plus all the instruments the can pack in the trunk and it wasn't really up to the task now that it's aged a good 15 years. We spent the car ride listening to esoteric recordings so we would be less aware of the noises the back wheels were making. It really sounded like they were going to fall off.

We arrived to Randi's house, unpacked, and relaxed. Her house is amazingly large. I think it was a duplex that has been remodeled to be one phenomenal house. Her boyfriend made us excellent food and there was plenty of candy to go around. We drank wine, told jokes, and laughed really hard.

The night was long and morning came a little too early. Even though we didn't get up until 10am. We ate a leisurely breakfast and started in on rehearsals. We worked hard finding arrangements to our list of forty tunes, selecting the best ones for the gig the next day, and then running through our final set list. By the time we crawled into bed Friday night, we had been practicing for 14 hours with two breaks.

We slept hard and fast and were on the road at 9am to the top of Gaustatoppen. On the way up we navigated narrow mountain trails through a herd of cows to the seter where we would play. We unpacked the instruments and assessed the stage (wooden pallets in the middle of a sheep pasture covered with a three sided tent). Our sound check was rather relaxed, but we managed to check all of the instruments and vocal mic's before the ladies started to arrive at noon.

Kjerringsveiven translates literally to 'The old ladies' swing' and the event is an organized march around the top of Gaustatoppen. About 2000 women came this year. The sporty ones and the early birds finish first. The one's who prefer to mosey and sleep in come a little later. They take buses from the town to the starting point and from the finish line back to town. We were playing at the finish line, where they also sell rømmegraut, sauplapper (buttermilk pancakes), and coffee/soda. The marchers tend to bring additional refreshments in the form of sandwhiches, fruit, and every kind of alcoholic beverage imaginable.

We played five forty minute sets over the course of five hours. The audience got more interested and more entertaining as time passed. In our third set they started singing along, one of them was even dancing in the mud. The fourth set was marked by the opening of a couple champagne bottles. The highlight of the last set was the 'chicken ladies'. At least twenty women had outfitted themselves with matching hats that looked like chicken.

Our music also got better as we played it more. We rearranged ourselves so we had shorter pauses and better communication. We learned which tunes worked and which ones didn't; the later it got, the more drinking songs we sang. The sound guy also got in on the act, throwing in all of the effects he had (reverb, echo, distortion), sometimes all at once!

We were happy and tired when we got back to Randi's. We relaxed, had dinner, and gingerly listened to the recording we had made. We discovered that it wasn't actually so bad! Those of us heading back to Rauland decided it would be a good idea to head home. The drive home was another hour of happy companionship, but we are all looking forward to sleeping in our own beds!