Sorry for the poor quality of the photo, but it was the pre digital days of photography, a camera with a film roll in 1968. I was in Norway, in Oslo to be exact. attending a CEE Conference for Safety Rules for Hand Tools. I have no idea what the CEE was actually, but I was working for a branch of the Robert Bosch Company in Switzerland, called Scintilla and they manufactured the hand tools for the Robert Bosch Company, like drills and jigsaws. I was the english secretary for the company and there was an international conference every year. For the Hand tools we had the chair. It was also pre computer days in the office and all minutes of meetings were still taken down by stenography, so I was the elected recorder of the proceedings.
I was up on the stage with an audience of about 2-300 men and with the various Swiss organisers. The proceedings were 5% in french and the rest in english. I filled up two notebooks with my strange signs which I had to transcribe when I returned to Switzerland. That is just a short summary about it all.
Up to now I had only seen the Norwegian country from the plane as we approached which seemed to be a vast forest of fir trees with houses in between. We had one free day where a trip was organised to the surrounding Norwegian mountains by train. Living in Switzerland I knew what a mountain is, but Norwegian mountains are something completely different.
We had an organised walkabout with the people attending the conference. The mountains look something like this when you are at the top or was it the top. We marched up the slope expecting to be at the top, which eventually was not the top but there was another gentle slope downwards. You saw the next top to climb when you reached the bottom – of the slope of course. Yes this must be it. You climb to the next peak and can now look across the Norwegian country, perhaps even see the coast. No, nothing like it. You walked up to the top of the next slope and what did you see: another slope, the next slope. This must be it. After climbing and descending slopes for half an hour you realised that there were no peaks in Norway. You never reach the top, because there would be another slope hidden behind the one you have just conquered. It was all a delusion.
60 years later I still remember the never-ending journey, my opportunity to see the Norwegian mountains which were not mountains, just undulations. And here I am at the conference, a 21 year old secretary, discovering the mysteries of the Norwegian mountains which are not really mountains, just a length of undulating slopes.