log book 14/06 _ sky route no edge

h 22.49

viktig

some sketches and some object found it

whatever day into the forest lake

the green seen from the water

forest encounter

drawing on the water

sail to the only island _ sea lane north west _ I°step left side lake

Track Live Happening #1 _walk whit me in to the forest

the way woods to the boat

without darkness h. 23.00

logbook 5/6_cartography

logbook 5/6_making off to sail away

swedish sketch diary and red pavilion

this is my sea and this my dinner

now between two lakes

II° Step_Borssjön Lake_Sweden_June 015

Dopo l’esperienza norvegese la seconda tappa del progetto North_Way si svilupperà sulle sponde del lago Borssjön, situato nelle sconfinate foreste della Svezia meridionale.

Come per Thoreau sul lago di Walden, lo specchio d’acqua sarà il territorio di indagine e di esplorazione, un dialogo trascendentale tra visione e natura. 

              

                  

walk with me in the MYR

MYR_daniele girardi_2015 from daniele girardi on Vimeo.

Excerpt from the norvegian sketch diary

Nation: Norway

Country: Finnskogen forest

Date: November 17 2014

Coordinates GPS: N 60° 5'37.53'' E 12°20'50.64''

Track: Smorholmen Lake (second step)

Temperature: min -3° max +8°

Equipment list: compass, work gloves, map, insulation mat, multitool, thermal blanket, stove, fire stell, tarp, cords, water pot, scotch tape, sketch book, pencil and camera.

The forest is a natural cathedral, an arboreal shrine, an elite place to breathe silence and to cross its wild forest bulwark.

The preparation takes me a long time, especially since the climate has changed and I try to make a careful selection between water-proof clothing and emergency equipment.

The path is hostile and at times very swampy - Norwegians call it "MYR" - it’s a land soaked with water, where the feet sink as in quicksand; a step is like five and one doesn’t seem to advance at all.

Everything is decomposed humus: “locus horridus”, but sublime to the sight and smell, everything is water and chlorophyll.

My steps perceive a real sense of danger; the environment dominates.

I climbed the stream stretches thinking of reaching the lake, but I always find myself in front of a chaotic barrier, a maze of conifers and so the perception of space vanishes. (The birches dropped by beavers are like bridges that I use to cross the more swampy areas).

I can go even beyond those woods, but going through it, seems but a matter of mindset.

I saw two huge mooses and a small white ermine, which were are too quick to be photographed; on the ground there were skulls and bones of animals. (forest archaeology)

Numerous trees fell because of snow and water weight. Huge uprooted trees created caves and holes in the ground similar to Trolls’s danes. To cross them I have to go around them or get into the intricate branches webs.

The thoughts were accompanied by London’s suggestions: my Klondike was in front of me and its gold was the green path.

The trail is marked by little old and faded blue circles. I have the map with me, but it’s old and inaccurate. I cannot remember how to use the compass, the GPS does not work here, so I put on some red tape on the birches to have reference point upon my return.

I'm lost.

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