A Lange Day

Today was a day we sought out more of Stuart’s roots.  One set of his grandparents came from farms about two hours drive from where we live, so we were up early, heading in that direction.  We were thankful we had no rain, but I should have been more specific when I talked to God about today’s weather.  The whole drive east was socked in with thick fog and all the fantastic views along the way were NOT.  I was pretty bummed about that since we took a more scenic drive out there, than back, and all we saw was pea soup.  But that was the only bummer of the day, that’s for sure.

Initially Stuart said he did NOT want to drive over Trollsteigen (socked in above), the switchback road that goes straight down a mountainside and scares even me.  Stuart is afraid of heights and he told me in no uncertain terms we needed to find another route.  So we planned to go that other route, but last night when we were visiting Tante Kari, she nearly scolded him when we told her he didn’t want to go on Trollsteigen.  She said if he is in Norway, he needs to go on Trollsteigen, and that was that.  She trumped his fear of heights and next thing you know, we were driving down Trollsteigen.  Stuart thought the fog was actually a gift from God so he couldn’t see just how steep the drop down was, but it did dampen the whole experience a little, I thought.  But thankfully we all survived to tell the tale and we didn’t encounter any big busses or motorhomes on the way down that very narrow one lane road.  Whew.

We had to pass up many photo opportunities along the way, and no stopping to enjoy anything, as the fog made us drive slower than we wanted so we were late arriving to Stuart’s relatives house.  His cousin, Kaare, couldn’t have been a nicer guy, nor could of his wife, Cora, or his sisters, Asbjorg and Kari, or his brother Kjetill, or his son Oddvar or his grandson Ivar-Arne, for we surely met them all today and spent the whole day with them.  Stuart and Kaare sure look a lot alike for being half-third-cousins-once-removed. 

When we first arrived on the Sandnes farm where his dad’s mom’s mom grew up, they had coffee and waffles, lefsa and homemade bread waiting for us.  The table was set with that fancy Norwegian flare, only it seemed like a little shrine with a photo I sent them of Stuart, leaning against the candlesticks.  I made the joke that it felt like a wake, as we were all gathering around to remember someone not there.  They moved the photo to the bookshelf right away. 

After a little food and chit-chat, we were taken on a scenic tour of the area.  Our first stop was the Froyset farm next door (photo above), where Stuart’s dad’s mom grew up and where she was living before she moved to America.  She had seven siblings but his grandmother is the only one with living descendants and they are all in America.  It was sad to realize that farm is no longer in the family, when the records show it was in Stuart’s family since the beginning of time.  Tax records go back to 1570 that confirm it, but surely they were there much, much longer.  That area has a known Viking village so it’s certain he comes from that local Viking stock.  I found an old door handle lying next to the old house that I gave to Stuart.  No one lives in the old house and they want to tear it down, but can’t because it’s so old (hundreds of years).   It was a good souvenir – something his ancestors certainly had their hands on a lot.

We next ventured across the fjord to the old Stave Church where Stuart’s grandmother was baptized and confirmed, and all her relatives for hundreds of years and generations before her.  The church was over 800 years old and made of wood.  We peeked inside the windows to see the elaborate paintings and decorations.  It’s only used once a year now, but the very cool “new” church (150 years old) is the one everyone now uses.

Kaare then drove us up to the top of the mountain for a nice overview of the area.  The house up at the top was the place where some guy named Bakken lived.  His son grew up in America and invented the pacemaker.   They were pretty proud of that.

Back at Kaare’s house, his sisters had set the table and gotten everything ready for an incredibly yummy bowl of Rommegrot.  It was the best darn Rommegrot I have ever had.  What a treat.   Good thing I sent them a note a few weeks ago and told them we were coming.  That grot takes a long time to make.

After we had Rommegrot we were taken up to Kaare’s brother’s, Kjetill’s cabin up behind the house on top of the mountain.  The view from up there was spectacular and the cabin was pretty shi-shi – very nice and very new.  It was like living in a dream and Stuart felt more than catered too.  All the siblings brought goodies to have with the coffee - cake, svela, and lefse.  We started joking that surely Stuart comes from royalty, with this kind of treatment.

The whole family couldn’t have been nicer.  Stuart felt bad he couldn’t speak to them in Norwegian so we tried to translate as much as we could but we obviously spoke to them more than Stuart or Judy.  Lots of photos were taken today, that’s for sure.  We all ran out of camera batteries before the day was done.

Kaare and his wife took us to the house where Stuart’s great-great-grandmother lived, and then to the cemetery where her children were buried.  It was all incredibly picturesque and serene.  Stuart was just overwhelmed with the whole day.  He was also impressed with the fact they had their Norwegian flag flying, as that’s only allowed for special occasions, but apparently, visitors from America qualify.  They really organized the day for us all and seemed to be very pleased to have these distant relatives come hunt them down.  We could have stayed on much longer with them, but we still needed to visit the Lange farm, where his name comes from.  It was another thirty minutes drive further east, so we had to leave about dinnertime and head out there.

I think Stu and Judy would have been happy to just go back to our place at that point, but I knew we didn’t have another day that we’d make it out in that neck of the woods, so we had to seize the moment.  We drove on out to Lange and took photos of Stu by the sign pointing up to his namesake.  I even got a HALLELUJAH out of him with his arms raised up in praise to God, as he stood next to that sign! 

I wasn’t totally sure of the exact house where his grandfather was born since all the farms on that street were named Lange, but we went to one house I thought it was and the woman there was more than kind.  She helped us pinpoint the exact place (above) by taking us down to the old folks home and talking to her husband’s aunt who knew everything about everyone around there.  Surely she did.  Stuart’s great grandfather was born in 1823 and she talked about him like she knew him personally.  She told us his great grandfather, Andreas Aarflot, who lived much further south, had moved to Lange in 1859 after the Lange farm completely burned down.  The guy that owned it lost all this buildings and animals.  It had been the biggest farm in the area.  Afterwards, he parceled out his land and sold it in chunks.  Somehow, probably through a shirt-tale relative, Andreas heard about the land for sale and bought it.  Knut, Stuart’s grandfather was born there a few years later.  Knut’s oldest brother, Edvard, got the farm and his granddaughter, Magna, now owns it but just yesterday she had hip surgery in Molde so she was in the hospital.  Her husband has begun to lose his mind, so he was now at the old folk’s home.  We met him and greeted him on our way out from visiting this elderly aunt.  Magna’s daughter lived down in the town so we were told by the aunt we MUST stop and greet her because if she found out that American relatives were in town and didn’t stop to say HI, she’d feel snubbed, so we had to do that on our way to the cemetery to find the grave of his great-grandfather.  It was all pretty cool and the area was so picturesque it was nice just a great place to go traipsing around.  Our last stop was actually the house where his grandfather was born so I took lots of photos there as Stu and Judy’s cameras were already out of battery.  Stu picked up a rock by the barn to take back to America as a good memory of the day, but it was so full of memories I’m sure he’ll never forget this day, no matter what.

I had to keep reminding Stuart today that his jaw was dropping every time I tried to take a picture of him.  The scenery was worthy of the jaw dropping posture, however.  The bulks of the photos I took of him today are either with his mouth gaping open or his lips pursed tight because I told him he had that look of shock and awe again.  He was pretty pleased.

On the way home we stopped at a picnic table and had a little coffee and some road food as all the restaurants were closed by then - it was after ten.  We got home just before midnight, so it really was a Lange (Long-a) day.