Fall adventures

Yesterday we made the semi-spur-of-the-moment decision to drive back to Rjukan in search of our own vehicle. We had located a VW stationwagon for sale at a pretty good price and decided to go look at it in the hopes that we would then have a our own car in Sweden next week.

The drive to Rjukan was gorgeous. Here in Rauland we only have trees that turn yellow, maybe orange; between here and Rjukan are entire hillsides of red trees. The leaves on the birches are mostly falling off now (we had a big storm a couple days ago). We drove past the edge of Hardangervidda, the massive mountain plateau, where most of the trees had lost their leaves and the grasses were all various shades of brown and orange. The brown walls of the cabins blended in with the brown grass on their roofs and the surrounding landscape.

As we made our long descent into Rjukan, I was reminded of my thoughts from our previous trip. Rjukan is located at the bottom of a steep valley. The mountainsides have little vegetation but tons of waterfalls. Regardless of where you are in the town, you can hear running water from both the river and the waterfalls. It's pretty amazing.

We arrived at the car and checked out wheel that had been making noise. The man selling the car had determined that the brake cylinder was going bad and had a new one, but hadn't gotten around to fixing it. He put the wheel back on and we got in the car to go for a test drive. We made it about five feet before determining that the car had no brakes. We poured in brake fluid and watched as it came running out the back wheel. Sadly we were not able to head home with a new car, but hopefully we'll get to buy it soon after he gets the brakes replaced. Otherwise, the car was perfect - good engine, good tires, lots of cargo room, central locks, AC, four doors. I'm hoping it can get fixed soon!

24/7

Thousands of pictures and millions of words will never accurately describe the beauty those of us fortunate enough to live in Rauland are surrounded by constantly. Vinje kommune (where we're located) is home to a disproportionate number of Norway's artists and authors; they're here either because the landscape inspires talent or talent is drawn to these surroundings. There is ample evidence of both in these parts.

When I wake up on a sunny day (or a day that will be sunny) I walk into my kitchen and look out the window. The first thing I notice is how the mountain (Skarsnuten) completely fills my frame of vision. I want to take a few steps back in order to see the whole thing since the top is too high for me to see from my room. Instead I approach the window (floor-to-ceiling, which makes no sense from a heat saving standpoint, but we'll take it) and look out and the rolling white giant that slices the heavens off at their knees.

Sunsets here are equally impressive. The sky stays blue while every reflective surface (mountains, buildings, clouds) turn a rosy warm shade of pink. The lake, which is frozen over and covered in snow, turns into a huge pink disc. I do miss the rich array of colors we get in Seattle, but the simplicity of just pink between the long shadows is breathtaking.

I have always been a sucker for nighttime. When it snows at night you feel like the stars are descending from the sky to hibernate in the fields for winter. When it's clear, you can see them, safely in the sky. The air is so clear and there is so little light pollution that the stars really seem like they could fall to Earth. Last night was a stunning crescent moon; I tried to take photos, but they all turned out a little blurry. I'm no night photographer.

During the day, everything glitters. The colder it gets, the more the ice crystals sparkle in the sun. There are icicles hanging off of every building and car, varying from clear to mineral tinted greens and reds. Cloud cover means two things, warmer weather and more snow.