The record-union., 1893-11-04
Special Correspon dence of the RECORD
UNION. Copyright 1881


special Correspon dence of the RECORD
UNION. Copyright 1881
LONDON, October u, 1898.
II one has sailed up and down the mag
nlhcent Norwegian coast, it is easy to be-
heVe the statement that one-tenth Of the
entire population of Norway are fisher
men. Twenty million cod alone are an
nualy taken. The value of fish each
year exported from Norway is nearly
Sl2,OOO0O0. From Bergen to Vadso, one
Is scarcely ever out of sight Of fishermen's
nuts, fisher fleets, fishing stations, and
bleak and dreary towns where fish and
hshlng are the exclusive reason for the
presence of man.
Agriculture along the entire coast and
among theacoast islands is carried on in
patches so tiny as to astonish the ira veler
at their lnsignificance. Little strips, a
few rods in length and few feet in
breadth, are regarded by those patient
1olk as priced possessions, and what they
are made to produce is amazing. To such
straits are the coast and isIet fisher folk
sometimes put for soil that it is often
transferred from mainland in boats, bit
by bit, to fill some crevice, or TO be walled
IN and cultivated against the floods and
tempeSts which often wash it ruthlessly
Into the sea. l have seen these little
patches often cared for with vastly more
expense and labor than the owners rude
habltation. 1t is not infrequent to dis
cover them half way up the broken side
OF beetling crag. | know of many that
can only be reached by lowering the
~
lass, and 1t IS no uncommon thing to see
them walled in at the edges, forming a
portion of a sloping roof of stone huts
abutting plains of mighty jagged rocks
behind. These bits OF green seem to take
on added Intensity of contrast for their
sterile and desolate surroundings, and
emphasize the only market-gardening of
the coast-the tremendous harvest OF the
sea.
In all the vast region where cod are
taken the curious apparent scene is con-
stantly presented at the fishing stations
your steamer will call at or pass, of some
vast clothes washing industry. The ab-
surd notion possesses you that the laun-
dry for all Europe has been found, for at
little distance the white drying cod,
hanging over poles, or covering acres Of
flat rock, seem like countless and I'M
measurable collections of lingerie bleach
ing in the nightIess days of these Arctic
regions. This Norwegian Goldfish has the
two names of "Stok fish" stockfish or
stickfsh, and "klipfisk" or fish. The
former derives its name from being dried
In pairs hanging from a long stok or
pole, and the latter are ''klipfsk' from
being cured where poles are not availa-
BILE, on the fiat surfaces of the klippe, the
everlasting rock. From these they are
sent to the barn-like structures, around
which cluster the dreary habitations of
the coast and islets, which are to the fish
ing industry what the "storhaus' is to
the Morse farmer, and from these they
are taken by coasting craft called '.jagts''
to the great WaterSide StOrehOuseS OF Ber-
gen, from which they find their way TO
their final market in various Mediterra-
mean ports.
So you will never escape the sight,
taste and;smell Of fish in Norway. Every
animate object along the coast from hu-
man to seagull is seeking for fish. Every
coast city, town or huddle of houses is
engaged in catching, curing, storing or
selling fish, and would rot in ruin in a
decade If fish disappeared from the sea-
roads and tiords. The most picturesque
sights In these waters are the fleets of
fishermen's crafts going or coming be-
tween the home ports and outlying sta
tlons and the numberleSs jagts with their
high-peaked brOws and immense sails
creeping in and out of the blue bays and
,
confusion about the quays of Bergen and
Throndhiem.
At your hotel every manner of fish is
served in extraordinary variety and tre-
mendous quantity. If you are enter
tanned at the house of q friend the never
falling familiar dish is thrust before you.
The bonder further countrywards as
saults your safety with picked fish. If
you take potluck with the peasant there
il is again ground into powder and ming
ling with his pOrridge. Up among the
mountain saeters the women who care
for the herds and Hocks will force it upon
you as a hOspita6le delicacy. At the
tourist stations along the great stone
roads of Norway it bobS up to haunt you,
dried, picked and in caviare. And pen
etrating the remOtest country districts,
among the highland lakes and streams,
you will starve If you do not at once fall
upon fresh fish served while it is still al
most quivering with its inny, bloodIess
life. l have known travellers who pas
sionately protested against the univer-
salty Of Great Britaln's ham and eggs"
grow voiceless i'll despair from the ON
nipresence and immutability of fish in
Norway.
A Turneresque picture indeed is that
gradually unfolding from your steamers
deck when morning breaks through the
mists and begins to light up the city OF
Bergen. A tumble of sparS, Of huge tiaD-
ping sails, and then the dim outlines of
all manner of shipping, but chiefly the
odd-looking lines of the old dragon ships
of the Vikings, the latter of course laden
with endless stores of fish, are first to
come in view. Then ghostly rows of
half-dehned outlines of what suggest
Brobdignagian monks, squatting at the
waterside with cowled and bowed heads
as in meditation or prayer. These prove
to be the vast white-tronted ancient
storehouses of Bergen. What seemed a
yippebom or rude crane, with its cumber-
Gus hood-like cover, used when the Nord-
far-StRvne, or northern SeafarerS' arri-
val, crowds the bay with fishing craft, in
unloading the unsavOry freight. Here
is the ancient Hanseatic quarter. Brave
are the tales of trade these odd old store
house shells might tell. Strange scenes
were once here in the olden council
rooms. Strange romances cling to the
ways and days of these sturdy old League
merchants. And strange and grewsome
were the lives of their slavish clerks
who passed their days in these mighty
caverns of dead fish, and by the jealousy
of different nations might ever love but
never wed.
Through the misty rose, like the tint of
the ripened peach, the quaint old city
seems at last to float out of the ghostli-
ness into clearer view. Behind the masts
and the hooded stOrehCuses rises the
Grim cathedral roof and dome. Then
bits of green, where the open spaces are,
wondrously green in these brief and hu-
mid summer days. checker the uplauds
of roof, at first as brilliant in purple and
red as a ragged heather-clad Scottish
mountain side, for all these roofs are