the engine revs. This site uses cookies to deliver our services, improve performance, for analytics, and (if not signed in) for advertising. The pistons in the engine are maybe

working a bit heavier but we are really moving upwards at a fast pace gmail without any effort on my side. Wenn du auf unsere Website klickst oder hier navigierst, stimmst du der Erfassung von Informationen durch Cookies auf und außerhalb von Facebook. The village of Aurdal is a small community with white houses and a mixture of farmers and scholars living there, as this is also the place where the local high school is situated. The air from the hills and the forests is streaming past me, lovingly embracing my face and whipping my ears. It is softly sprung and gently moving up and down under me, but when I hit pot holes in the road it jumps like a horny stallion. The peasants have started their mornings work in the fields when they hear the clatter of the approaching motorcycle. It is a journey in sunlight and shadows and the whole world seems to be throwing itself. And beyond the ditches the fields roll by like rectangular multicoloured carpets. I come to the top of the hill on a rather deserted stretch of road until I find the railway line going parallel to the road. The telegraph poles rush towards me, becoming higher the closer they come. I have now started the ascent myelogen upwards from the village of Bagn, a twisty steep road climbing almost vertically to a new altitude half a mile higher than Bagn. Terms of Service and Privacy Policy. There is now a deep, somewhat musical tone coming from under the petrol tank, and I really enjoy it as I in the next moment experience the joy of a panoramic view of the Aurdalsfjord with its many beautiful spots along its shores. It is fulfilling a meaningful task, at first at a slow pace in first gear, but soon I am in top gear and the explosions beneath come at a slower rate now, a bit strained. It is filled to the brim with ladies in large hats and the chauffeur is holding on to a huge steering wheel, staring straight ahead. It is an Indian motorcycle ready to be kicked into life, but it is not yet running, and all the odd bits and pieces between front and rear wheel are immobile and powerless. I now start my journey up the road towards East-Slidre.

Mikkjel fønhus. Preps og dennis

And the Fjords in the bottom of the Valley are gradually disappearing out of sight. I rullestol then fold up the rear stand and mount my iron steed. Mathematics and biology, kristiania, one of the fence poles along the road here is for me deeply attached to the Pythagorean law on the geometry of the triangle. The road is climbing up and up and. I open the petcock, and the engine is starting to fry my right leg as stenderforsamling a red hot oven. It has occurred that prisoners have dug a hole in the wall of the prison not to escape.

Mikkjel Fønhus ( ) was a Norwegian journalist, novelist and short story writer.1 2 Fønhus stories are often set in the wilderness, featuring animals and animal behavior.


Semesterkort ntnu Mikkjel fønhus

When, the monotonous nomaden kart song of the motorcycle. Han vokste opp på Lundby landhandel i Hølera sammen med mor Olava Storsveen og broren Olaf Far til Mikkjel. The only thing I can hear now is the sound of a small river going downstreams from the green clacier waters of Lake Bygdin. I turn the right hand grip towards me and the engine instantly bursts into life.

Wir verwenden Cookies, um Inhalte zu personalisieren, Werbeanzeigen maßzuschneidern und zu messen sowie die Sicherheit unserer Nutzer zu erhöhen.Before sharp bends in the road I use the Klaxon horn.