Our hikes to Oggevann and from Saga

It's almost six p.m.; my legs feel like noodles, and I am exhausted. Walter and I decided we would take the "short" hike sponsored by the Livsfaseutvalget and the Pensioners' Club, which I understood from Google translate would be brief jaunts on and off a tour bus with senior citizens, no more than a mile long, a little hike to break up the day. It turned out to be an all afternoon affair hiking up, down boulders, scraggy paths, and at one point rappelling ourselves backward via a rope down a steep precipice. Laughing wryly at the American and Norwegian version of "short hike," I took up the rear depending on the kindness of the tour leader who reminded me to bring water and wear sensible shoes next time. Having been raised on t.v. and Twinkies, this jaunt, which turned out to be 12 km, or 7.5 miles, proved an ordeal, and I was only saved when the octogenarian and a couple of the septuagenarians of the group took pity on me and gave us ride once we had entered Jegersberg, the large wilderness area near our home. Walter, of course, trotted along happily, unfazed, and once he enjoyed a few of the pastry slices that the kind and super-fit octogenarian offered at our resting place near Omvendte Båt, he skipped on ahead of me, calling back occasionally to tell me that "this exercise is good for you."

UPDATE: It turns out that the email I was sent advertising the "short hike" said the trip was to be about a Scandinavian mile, or mil, which is 10 KM or 6.2 miles. Whoops!!

Dad and Mark enjoyed a less strenuous trip, canoeing, boat making, and telling jokes, though Dad got cold, having forgotten to double up his socks.

Walter walking along an area just ahead of a dam.


An ancient burial mound in Skråstadheia.


Walter and I close to the summit. We were close to halfway at this point.


The view of the fjord and Kristiansand. I would not venture close to the edge, but others were more brave.


A map of the protected nature area north of Kristiansand where we hiked.


A young ram we met along the way who was grazing with his friend, a llama. Walter, though skittish, petted the ram, who then stuck close to him until our group departed.


Walter resting, and inching forward closer to the edge.


Mark's hike in Oggevann with his class


Birch bark boats the boys made.


The sleeping leanto where Bill literally got cold feet.


Mark happy. The boys traded jokes at one point and Mark made up two: What do you tell an egg when you want it to leave? "SCRAMble" [This joke unfortunately didn't translate well...] Mark's other joke involved a boy in an airport whose parents disciplined him after he got into trouble. When some late travelers, fearing they had missed their flight, ran up to the boy and asked him what was happening, the boy responded, "I'm grounded," and the travelers, confused, assumed their flight had been cancelled. A British/Norwegian parent translated this joke to laughter from the audience.