Visions of the bbbrrrrrr North

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There is still a sense of the struggle of man to control the beast that is nature, as I travel across miles of untouched open spaces. Futile attempts at order are everywhere as you can feel the hands of the icy winter hovering. It is still quite wild and unexplored terrain in some parts f Scandinavia and the silence can be almost deafening. It has been 0 degrees with snow and the vast distances between any point of interest or hospitality remind me of a cold Australia.

How different it is to gaze on an ocean of whiteness, pine green trees trying to assert themselves against their new coat. How dramatically and beautifully a landscape can be transformed in just one night. It is one of the freshest, most poetic, but lonely landscapes I have ever seen. I cannot begin to capture it on film. For it is the first time I have watched it fall, perfect star shaped crystals toying with the earth.

I have been hours on the train to return to Sweden after a visit to the Arctic region. I wanted to discover the cultures of the past people living there and what may remain. Like most of the worlds indigenous people they have been exploited by tourism and shoved aside by mining, hanging on to their tethered roots with dress up days and cultural performances. The Arctic Museum was great though because it detailed the cultures of the Inuit, Sami and Polar Eskimos. It outlined Shamanism in contrast to the current dominating religion of Catholicism as the elders are trying to return to their religious roots.

There were exhibits of their earthy way of life, how they survive in such extreme weather using little changed dugout canoes, fur tents and sleds. The animals they hunt (reindeers are attracted and caught using human urine), the animals they herd, and the changing environmental concerns of a climate that is struggling to sustain them in their traditional ways. SUPER interesting.

The humorous part of of the visit involves Mr Santa Claus. The well advertised Santa Claus Village was really a trip for my nieces and a reassurance once again that the GOOD things to do with Christmas have been destroyed by commercialism. The 'Village' was actually a shopping centre of about 30 stores, all selling hard and basically the same tourist garb of handmade Sami clothes and decorations naturally. Besides that was the Santa Main Post Office where I sent a letter personally signed by the man in red to my family. PLUS there was Santa in the flesh! He looked like Santa, sounded like Santa, asked if I wanted anything for Christmas and then offered me a photo with him for a mere $40. I ho ho ho'd louder than he did and made a quick exit. Santa has copywrite in this part of the world. But it was cold, it did start snowing while I was there and all those Christmas tunes reminded me of home. You can't entirely take the fruit out of the pudding after all.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Since I last experienced the magic of Christmas I have done a lot of impressed gazing from the train, stopped in Northern Sweden for a day of bright skies followed by a long day travel to Northern Finland, lots more powdery snow and a chilly -8 degrees!!

In Swededn, Ostersund village was the quintessential Swedish rural lake kind of place you all think of. A farming area surrounding a massive lake with a mysterious sea monster in it, historic buildings and remnants from one of the earliest Viking Settlements. The old monster of the lake catching equipment was COOL.

The best part of the town though was the farmy atmosphere aided by the crispy weather. Quaint bam type homes of timber painted rust and white, log piles, old carts, milk urns, chooks, pigs, horses, autumnal beech trees and the smell of fire. Topped with enticing cafes serving beautiful food I have discovered myself to be a HUGE fan of cinnamon rolls with tea. They use candles in their cafes even during the day, everything looks like a photo shoot for Gourmet Traveller and thank god the heating is fantastic.

Then I passed through more evergreen snow covered mountain valleys to the coast of Northern Norway. The sea opened up to a hilly settlement from Medieval days. The capital of the isolated North, Trondheim is a mix of ultrachic design and friendly weatherboard icecream coloured houses. It has the feel of a cosy port town, low misty clouds creeping up the cobblestone streets. Medieval warehouses converted to groovy cafes but it is all so damn expensive. Norway is THE most expensive Scandinavian country yet so I must hurry to glimpse those Fjords, soak up the atmosphere and keep peering in the windows of the restaurants as Im rugged up on the outside. I'm hoping the Netherlands will be cheaper, it's gotta be. I just hope the weather is conducive to Fjord enjoyment before I scamper way South away from this cold.

Snow to the max.......

The journey to reach Fjordland far exceeded my expectations. Iridescent white snow has fallen heavy on this part of Norway for the last few days. I could never have pictured in my mind how beautiful snow is when piled precariously to kiss the edge of a massive grey ocean. How a palette of grey and white can be so remarkably moody and silent. And how lakes can form complex crystalline patterns as they begin their rapid freeze.

Suddenly the landscape has changed to an iceland, trees heavy with their new icy weight, houses recognizable only by the meandering mist of smoke rising from their chimneys and almost all signs of life taking comfort indoors. It is so beautiful and expansive, some treeless areas like an untouched albino desert being shaped by the winds. For an enchanting six hours the landscape gave me the pleasure of its snowy company passing by rivers, forests, oceans, thin sheets of ice and a few towns. Sometimes becoming a dusty snow storm, but often still and waiting, blinding me with it's brightness.

I feel so far away in this environment alone, it's strange but enticing, magical but unwelcoming, isolated but so highly developed. Maybe a snowman will soothe me? I am full of frustrated creative inspiration and the sun is teasing to come out so I must go and explore. The regret of traveling alone is not being able to share, and this space is one I am desperate to capture and remember. Be prepared for lots of white photos 😊. I hurriedly leapt from the train platforms hoping to catch the intermittent photo opportunity and I've even resorted to desperate moving train shots so overwhelming is this view.

There seems to be no other tourist around in this pre-ski season and people are looking at me oddly due to my over enthusiastic clicking as I capture their everyday world. It is true that we often miss the beauty that surrounds us constantly and travel is refreshingly opening my minds eye.

Fjordland majesty......

Rain fell gently over Fjordland today, wispy low clouds hugged the valleys and the numerous cascading waterfalls sang out fiercly. Above the Fjords, towering snowy mountains watched over the water, sometimes coming close to shadow a closing river. Luminous thick green moss carpeted the woods making way for the occassional field of soggy sheep.

Remnants of Autumn are serenading the peaks as the last of the yellow leaves and red berries caress the snowline. Looking down a valley you can see the endless mountains overlapping to create a gorge of steep angles paler and bluer in the distance.

Little timber houses sit on the lap of these great giants with moss or grass growing defiantly over their roofs. Impatient rivers collide with great boulders as thin waterfalls from above race down to join in. It is a flourishing aqua landscape that changes around every bend and valley and I loved it. A whole day of trains, buses and boats from sea level to the towering snowline with only 5 other tourists. It is one time that off peak has really allowed me to see something so uninterrupted and majestic as the Norwegian Fjords.

It could be compared to a ferry ride along a wide river through the Parbatti Valley in India, or a magnified proportion of the Sounds of New Zealand but with a Scandinavian twist. Impossible to describe really but I know that all of you would have adored it.

I'm heading to Oslo overnight to see some art, Edward Munch, the only artist to make Norway famous and the painter of 'The Scream' has a gallery devoted to him there. He painted emotional, tortured pictures to process the pain during his sisters slow death. Hhis vivid colours and style where innovative and gorgeous so looking forward to that!

Then Im dreaming of warmer days until I write again......

Kris
xxx

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