'Two Men on the Bummel' - Sepia Saturday 643

Below is photo showing two letters from Gustaf to Sally (my grandparents). It's summer, and he is off on a holiday bicycle trip with Sally's brother Nils for a few days. The year is unknown, but it's clearly after Gustaf and Sally started 'dating'. So 1926 at the earliest (cf my previous post). 

If anyone is wondering about the title I chose for this post, I borrowed that from Jerome K. Jerome's humorous classic Three Men on the Bummel (1900; sequel to his more famous Three Men in a Boat); in which J. and his friends George and Harris go on a bicycle tour in the Black Forest in Germany.

My paperback copy of the book

Bummel is a German word --- The first American edition, published by Dodd Mead in 1900, was entitled Three Men on Wheels.   One of the characters in the book asks, "how would you translate [bummel]," to which the narrator replies ---

"A 'Bummel'," I explained, "I should describe as a journey, long or short, without an end; the only thing regulating it being the necessity of getting back within a given time to the point from which one started. Sometimes it is through busy streets, and sometimes through the fields and lanes; sometimes we can be spared for a few hours, and sometimes for a few days. But long or short, but here or there, our thoughts are ever on the running of the sand. We nod and smile to many as we pass; with some we stop and talk awhile; and with a few we walk a little way. We have been much interested, and often a little tired. But on the whole we have had a pleasant time, and are sorry when it's over." (Wikipedia)

I can't recall ever having seen a photo of neither Gustaf nor Nils with a bicycle; so I was actually quite surprised when reading these letters, proving that they were obviously capable of quite long daytrips on bicycle, without ending up overly exhausted.

Repeating a photo from a previous post just to remind you what they looked like: 

Gustaf & Nils, 1922

The first letter:

Vårgårda, Saturday 10.30 am 

Darling Sally,

We have reached Vårgårda. The road sign says 33 km [20 miles] which means we have covered about a third of the first leg of our trip. The sun is shining from an almost clear sky. The roads are perfect, no hills to speak of. It feels like the bike is rolling by itself. The nature is lovely, with farms surrounded by fields. The oats already being harvested in some places are short and not looking too good, though. The air is warm and brings a fragrance of heather from the banks along the road. 

With that I have summed up the landscape and the weather in a few lines. So what about ourselves? As for me, I've just about got warmed up, as they say. Nils, on the other hand, was sweating profusely until we reached Tämta. [~ 10 km / 6 miles from where they started]  Then he began to cool off a bit. Now he's all right.    

You asked me to write something amusing, to liven up. You must forgive me if this first letter is somewhat prosaic – I'm afraid there hasn't been all that much amusement so far. Oh, wait. Just before Vårgårda we met a girl with long braids. Nils, always keen to talk to a pretty girl, called out to her in his loudest voice. The girl, who was cycling, jumped off her bike, quite perplexed by being addressed by two dusty ruffians. ”Do you know how far it is to Vårgårda? How is the road? How does one get to Vänersborg from there?” The girl was blushing from the crossfire of questions and had to admit that she didn't really know. ”How far is it to Vårgårda?” he asked again. ”The road is good,” she answered. ”I didn't ask about the condition of the road, but how far it is!” And so it went on for a while.

Then we met an old woman carrying an unmentionable vessel in her hand, which she tried to hide behind her clean apron. She didn't know anything either, and what she might once have known, she had  forgotten. 

Well, we continued past Tånga, where soldiers were loitering about. 

Vårgårda, Fältläger på Tånga hed 
(military camp on Tånga moor) 
(Friday, 21 August1925, 3:50 pm)
Kalmar Läns Museum - digitaltmuseum.se

Then we arrived in Vårgårda, and found a café that looked nice from outside. So we went in. But the interior turned out not to quite match the exterior. Black tables, black chairs, black ceiling, and an advertising sign for Pommac* was what met us.
*[a carbonated soft apple drink, introduced in 1919] 

The waitress was a toothless beauty around 60 years old, with hungry eyes. The coffee was weak, and so was the cream. The only good thing about the place was that it gave me an opportunity to write this letter to you! I will post it at the railway station here, as there is no telling when we'll arrive at the next one. But if able to continue as we've started, without encountering too many hills, we should be able to make 100-120 km per day. [62-74 miles]

I won't write more now. Nils is sitting with his watch in his hand, and muttering: ”It's absolutely crazy to write several pages, when you've only been gone for two hours!” However, he condescends to sending a greeting. Please tell your mother that he's happy and ”living life alive”. Nothing bad has befallen us. We're like fish in the sea. The only thing I'm missing is you! 

A thousand kisses (you can't deny me that, can you?)
More later. 
Yours, Gustaf

Both letters are written with pencil on by now yellowed paper, and in haste, making some parts not all easy to decipher. But I hope my interpretation and translation does the 'spirit' of them justice.  (I left out one or two extra sentences of endearments that I suspect Sally herself would have skipped when reading the rest alound to her mother and sister, though!)  [I plan to post Part 2 next week.]

---

Incidentally, in the Swedish Wikipedia article about Vårgårda, there is this photo of a statue celebrating the Fåglum brothers from Vårgårda; four cycling brothers who were famous in the 1960s.

Photo: Bengt Oberger - https://commons.wikimedia.org

Linking to Sepia Saturday 643

Gustaf and Nils weren't anywhere near the seaside
on this trip; but I'm going with holidays, wheels,
and need to stop for some refreshment! 

SVENSKA

Det första av två brev skrivna av Gustaf till Sally (mina farföräldrar) på en cykeltur han gjorde en sommar tillsammans med hennes bror Nils. Året är inte angivet, men uppenbarligen efter att de två blivit ett "par" - så tidigast 1926 (jmf tidigare inlägg). Men troligen före deras förlovning (1929).

Svensk titel på detta inlägg skulle vara "Två män på velociped" - kopierat från Jerome K. Jeromes bok "Tre män på velociped", från år 1900 (uppföljare till hans kanske mer kända "Tre män i en båt").

Vårgårda, lördag kl 10.30 fm

Älskade Sally!

Vi befinner oss i Vårgårda. Vägvisaren visar 3,3 mil, alltså ha vi tillryggalagt en dryg tredjedel av dagsetappen. Solen strålar från så gott som molnfri himmel. Vägarna äro idealiska, utan nämnvärda backar. Det känns som om cykeln ginge av sig själv. Naturen är fager. Böljande sädesfält omgärda välbyggda bondgårdar. Havren, som på några ställen börjat skördas, är dock kort och dålig. Ljungen doftar utefter vägkanterna. Luften är ljum och balsamisk.

Sådär! Nu har jag beskrivit bygden och vädret på några få rader, nu kommer turen till oss själva. Jag själv är nätt och jämt varm i kläderna, som det heter. Nils var svettig så det dröp av honom – åtminstone från överkroppen – tills vi hunnit till Tämta, då han började svalna något. Nu är han all right. 

Du bad mig skriva något roligt, något som kunde liva. Du får förlåta mig om detta mitt första brev blir något torrt, men saken är den att det roliga varit tämligen tunnsått än. Ja, vänta. Strax vid Vårgårda mötte vi en tös, troligen med långa flätor. Nils, som alltid varit svag för det täcka könet, ropade till henne med sin kraftigaste ton. Flickan, som cyklade, hoppade plums ned mellan tramporna, alldeles perplex av tilltalet och åsynen av tvenne dammiga karlslokar. ”Vet ni hur långt det är till Vårgårda? Hurudan är vägen? Hur skall man åka för att komma till Vänersborg?” Flickan rodnade inför korselden av frågor och måste tillstå att hon ej visste så värst mycke av det Nils frågade efter. ”Hur långt är det till Vårgårda?” sporde han. ”Det är fin väg,” löd svaret. ”Jag frågade inte hur vägen var, utan hur lång!” - Så fortgick det en stund. 

Så kom en gumma med ett onämnbart kärl i handen som hon pietetsfullt sökte dölja bakom det rena förklädet. Hon visste heller ingenting, och vad hon eventuellt en gång vetat, hade hon glömt av. Nåja, vi fortsatte förbi Tånga, där [soldaterna] gingo och drogo benen efter sig. Så anlände vi till Vårgårda och hittade ett kafé, som tog sig tämligen bra ut utvändigt. Vi trädde in. Men interiören är helt annan än exteriören. Svarta bord och stolar, svart tak, en skylt med orden ”Drick Pommac, serveras här” i förgrunden. Servitrisen var en tandlös skönhet på 60 vårar, med hungriga ögon.Kaffet var svagt och grädden dito, tvi då. Det enda som var bra var att jag fick tillfälle skriva brev. Jag lämnar det här på järnvägsstationen, när vi befinner oss vid nästa station veta vi ju ej. Med den goda fart vi hittills ha nått orka vi utan motlut[?] en tio à 12 milper dag. 

Skriver icke mer nu. Nils sitter med klockan i handen och muttrar: ”Det är för galet skriva flera [sidor] och efter att endast ha varit borta 2 tim.” Han ”nedlåter” sig dock att be om sin hälsning. Hälsa din mor att han är glad och ”lever livet levande”. Oss vederfares inget ont. Vi befinner oss som fiskar i vattnet. Det enda jag längtar efter är dig. ---
Tusen kyssar! Det kan du inte neka mig, eller hur?
Vidare framdeles.

Din Gustaf