I made a stop just after the village with all its hubbub and maddening crowds, and stuffed face on svele with sour cream and strawberry jam in relative tranquility at a small kiosk. I had some stunning views while chomping down.
The very end of the cabins and the beginning of merciful solitude.

Ok, there are a handful of cabins down in the highland landscape too. But my, what beautiful mountains, eh?


I believe the goat has something to do with famous playwright Henrik Ibsen's story about Peer Gynt.

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