When I pull the brown bear’s fur off

Date:
13.08.2020

Day: 011

Country:
Norway

Location:
Lake Vansjø

Daily kilometers:
33 km

Total kilometers:
1529 km

Travel time:
1 hr.

Soil condition:
Asphalt

Sunrise:
05:24

Sunset:
21:17

Temperature day max:
26°

Temperature day min:
17°

Departure:
12:00 p.m.

Arrival time:
7:30 pm

(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).

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Because we have to send pictures and texts for our social media and you have to pay €49 for 6 gigabytes with a Norwegian phone card, we go to a fast food restaurant. There is free WLAN with unlimited data flow. Although we are not friends of such restaurants, where people are often served unhealthy, deep-fried, fattening food, we are happy. We drink a cappuccino and start our work. Tanja fills Instagram and Facebook, I write a newsletter and publish our experiences on the website. When seven hours have passed, we are startled because we have not noticed the flow of time due to our intensive work. “Thank God we don’t have to work in a restaurant like this,” I think to myself. We quickly pack up our things and leave the town in the direction of Oslo. “It doesn’t really make sense to go to the capital today,” I think. “What alternatives do you suggest?” asks Tanja. “I discovered a viewpoint in Maps.me (navigation app). It’s only a few kilometers away from here. I’m sure there’s somewhere to spend the night.” “Then we could drive to Oslo tomorrow morning, fresh and well-rested,” adds Tanja. “Exactly,” I confirm and follow the navigation to the viewpoint. After a few kilometers, the app leads us onto a small side road that winds its way into a forest. It doesn’t take long before the asphalt is replaced by gravel and sand. To our left is the shore of Lake Vansjø, which at 35.6 km² is the 35th largest lake in Norway. The landscape becomes more romantic and lonely with every kilometer you cover. Houses and human civilization are behind us. We can’t find the viewpoint, but we drive on anyway. “Luckily we have a fully off-road capable expedition vehicle,” I say, shifting into second gear to slow down the six-plus tons with the engine on a short descent. The Terra howls briefly and slows down. Suddenly a prohibition sign forbids us to continue. A widening of the path offers us the opportunity to stay. I pull out the ignition key a few meters before the prohibition sign, so we have found a fantastic spot for the night.

We unpack two cans of the terrible Danish beer, sit down on the lakeshore with Ajaci and watch the sunset. “That’s nice,” says Tanja quietly. “Unbelievable, and only a few kilometers away from the main road. Norway is a wonderful country,” I enthuse, taking a sip of the terrible brew. “You could also drink camomile tea,” jokes Tanja. “I could, but I’d rather have a beer, even if it’s not Franconian-brewed hop juice.” After it gets dark and a few mosquitoes buzz around us, we go back to our home. Suddenly an off-road vehicle stops next to the Terra. “He’s not going to chase us out of here, is he?” says Tanja. “Good evening,” the man greets us in a friendly manner. “Ah, you’re from Germany. My name is Per Jørgen and I live at the end of the road in an old farmhouse. It’s beautiful there. If you like, you are welcome to drive on and visit us,” he invites us. As we are tired and don’t want to go out again today, we thankfully decline. “Maybe we’ll come tomorrow morning,” I reply. “You have a fantastic vehicle,” he enthuses. “Looks like it’s a special construction. I’ve never seen anything like it. You can certainly go off-road with it.” “Not any terrain, but with its three differential locks and 24 gears, it is indeed an off-road vehicle to be taken seriously,” I say, whereupon we talk shop for a while.

Are there still brown bears here?” a thought crosses my mind, which I pass on to Per. “There are hardly any bears left here, but there are a lot in Sweden. I’m a hunter and go brown bear hunting in Sweden every year. They are beautiful, very intelligent animals and I have a lot of respect for them. When the first snow falls, they don’t move a meter. They know that they leave tracks in the snow. I don’t like killing them, but in Sweden they are dramatically increasing. This year the government has released 250 of them for shooting. Some of the Sami living there have lost up to 90 percent of their reindeer calves. The bears live in a veritable land of plenty and fill their bellies with the calves. If we don’t decimate the bears, the Sámi will lose their livelihood. Nature is out of balance and we hunters have to try to restore the balance.” “Then you must eat a lot of bear meat?” I ask. “Oh no. I hate bear meat, but the Finns really like it. There are even companies that can bear meat.” “Why don’t they eat bear meat?” I wonder, as we once got bear meat ourselves in Mongolia from the reindeer nomads living there and it tasted quite good. “When I peel off the bear’s fur, I always see large, transparent worms living in the meat.” “Ah, I’ve heard about that before. You mean trichinae, threadworms that are found in bear meat and have cost the lives of one or two polar explorers in the past because they ate raw bear meat,” I interject. “No, it’s not the threadworms. The worms I’m talking about are not harmful to humans, but I’m terrified of them. I prefer to eat elk and venison. It’s clean and there are no worms in it,” explains Per. When the sun has directed its remaining rays to the other side of the world, we say goodbye. “I would be delighted to welcome you to my farm tomorrow,” Per repeats his invitation. I look after him until the light from his car headlights is lost in the deep forest. Then I get into the Terra to tell Tanja, who had retired some time ago, about the interesting conversation and the invitation…