On Treasurehunt through the North - Part 3 - Norway

(If you prefer listening to the AUDIOVERSION, you'll find it in the very end of the blogpost) (...)

Winter was coming and we still had at least three destinations to visit. All of them were in Norway: a family of friends who practise unschooling near Hamar, a friend near Oslo, and friends in Vågå, close to Jotunheim National Park. So we said goodbye to Skattungbyn for the time being.

Off to Norway!

(...)

These were the last lines of the previous blog post in our trilogy. ‘Treasurehunt through the north – Skattungbyn’

Norway. Northway, the way towards North, is what this country was once called because sailors could use its coastline to navigate as far north as was possible at the time. If you look at a map, you can see how far this country stretches along the Atlantic Ocean. Almost half of the country is located within the Arctic Circle. The distance from Oslo, the capital of Norway, to the Russian border in the very north is exactly the same as from Oslo to Italy. From this perspective, we were still very far south during our entire trip. Nevertheless, while we already had a very northern feeling in Skattungbyn due to the taiga landscape, we got it even more in the mountains of Norway; on the one hand because of the harsh landscape, but also because of the sharp drop in temperature.

However, our first destination in Norway was near the town of Hamar, on Lake Mjøsa, which has a comparatively mild climate.

There we immersed ourselves once again in the spirit of free learning. We visited a family we had met two years earlier. Interestingly, two of the four children had since voluntarily decided to attend the Waldorf School. This freedom of choice seems to us to be the best solution: the children can go to school, but they don't have to. However, it's not quite that simple: since the children decided to go to school, they should also attend. But sometimes they don't want to. That makes it difficult. In general, according to the parents, life has become much more challenging since they have to get up early in the morning to take the children to school and pick them up again. On top of that, there are parents' evenings and all kinds of joint school activities. Everyday life is much busier. It would probably be different if all the children went to school, then there would be free time in between. The eldest, however, did not want to under any circumstances. Nevertheless, he already knew that he would study later, namely geology.

It was exciting to watch the children with all their projects: de-rusting and sharpening old knives, building slingshots, building ramps for their bicycles. One was a talented violinist and pianist. You could always hear Vivaldi or the theme tune from Pirates of the Caribbean coming from the house. Elouan found more playmates here. Even though Hamar offers a more alternative scene and a very good Waldorf school, we ultimately couldn't imagine moving here because it was an agricultural and urban landscape and we were looking for a wild country. We hoped to find this on our next stage of the journey: in the mountains near Jotunheim National Park.

Jotunheim – Home of the Giants

Here they were: the legendary great mountains of Norway. They reminded us a little of the Alps, because here too the lakes and rivers were turquoise. However, the mountains were long and stretched out rather than towering high. The paths are usually much less steep, so it can be surprising when you suddenly reach the tree line. Then a wide landscape covered with lichens and berry bushes stretches out before you.

The traditional log cabins with their green roofs were nowhere more beautiful than here. In the small town of Vågå, we visited our friends Forest and Miri with their daughter Ronja. Ronja was still a baby when we last visited. It was a lovely reunion. We were able to park our caravan at their place and feel at home in their kitchen and living room. That was a real blessing during these cold days.

Marie, Manu and their daughter Tora also lived in the neighbourhood; the Swiss-German family we had met at the Lithica Gathering. We actually became really good friends. Elouan and Tora also seemed to be best friends right away, so we spent some time cooking, eating, harvesting potatoes, catching fish and making fires together. I was amazed at how skilfully Elouan, at four and a half years old, could already unwind the reel of the fishing rod, cast it, close the reel again and retrieve the hook. But he caught his first two trout using a much more primitive method: simply holding a line with a hook and bait in the current of a wild stream.

Manu and I set out some nets in a mountain lake to catch trout. It was inspiring to experience the vast landscape in which Manu and Marie offer wilderness courses and excursions, as well as vision quests, with their company ‘Wilderness Vision’.

Lou, Elouan and I spent a few lovely days together as a family by the River Sjoa. It is a wild river in a wild valley, whose banks are home to gnarled birch trees. Here, we cooked over the fire again, picked cranberries as well as juniper berries, and slept in our cotton tent for a change.

The area around Jotunheim National Park came very close to my former idea of the wild north, which I once had before I became disillusioned by the reality of the pine and spruce plantations of Sweden and Norway. Here, it actually felt wild. And clear. And vast. And quiet.

A dream flickered into life: calling a log cabin our home, in the middle of this beautiful natural setting. With a few nice neighbours with whom we could share work, but also celebrations, ideals and childcare.

We realised that a school like the one in Molkom, a social structure like the one in Skattungbyn, a landscape comparable to Jotunheim, and like-minded friends like Marie and Manu would be the right place for us. But this place does not seem to exist.

‘Are we too picky?’ This question keeps coming back to us. We have already scaled back our grand visions and dreams considerably. Or do we simply know what we want, and reality just isn't there yet? Is it simple lack of money? Or a lack of mindset? Of being ready to create what we dream of? No matter where? But everywhere this is just not possible.

In the end, a decision remains open, given the reality as it is now, and not just as it could be. But how to make it?

As a father, I suppose it's my job to decide on the best school or social network for Elouan. Sometimes it seems to me that we just have to make a decision, no matter what. We have to compromise anyway. And then make the best of it and bring our visions for life into the world on a small scale. It's better than searching forever.

Anyway, the question always arises as to what the point of all this searching is. It actually takes us far away from what we wanted: to live close to nature and give our son a childhood that suits his needs. Hours of driving and constant social change are not really part of that. The fact that Elouan is growing up and needs social contact, as well as the question of school, doesn't make it any easier. It's a pressure that takes the ease out of the search. A change is clearly needed.

Nature gave me signs that confirmed the change in its enchanted, clear and at the same time vague way: I encountered nine ravens twice. In numerology, the number nine stands for completion, for something coming to an end and/or finding fulfilment. The raven itself has so many meanings and powers that it can interpret light and shadow for me in equal measure. I am as blind as I am in knowing which of the many possibilities for the future is the right one for us. One thing is certain: a change is imminent.

I encountered a 10th raven. A single one. I was standing in the forest. Suddenly, there was a caw and the high-pitched cry of a bird of prey, directly above me. A black and white ball flew over me and landed less than ten metres away behind a small hill. A fight for life and death. I can only hear it, not see it. Every now and then, a wing lifts up. Loud cries. Like two dragons, black against white. I wonder if I should intervene, but I believe that only what must happen will happen. Finally, silence.

Shortly afterwards, the white bird flies away. But it disappears so quickly between the trees that I cannot tell what kind of bird it was. A hawk? The bird seemed too large for that. A buzzard? But its feathers were more white than brown. Perhaps a harrier? An owl flashes through my mind. A snowy owl? This far south? It remains a mystery. When I step up to the scene of the fight, there is a huge raven lying on the green moss, its wings spread out. I sit down next to it and look into its open eyes. I'm not sure if it's still breathing, but I think I can see its body rising and falling slightly. Its black plumage glistens with shades of purple and green in the sunlight. Almost golden. Sadness envelops me. Such a beautiful raven. Why did it have to die?

Incomprehension and senseless anger at the white bird. Aversion to this aggression. Should I have intervened? Should I have made a decision to act instead of waiting inactively? Is this the lesson of this encounter? Or has good – the white – triumphed over evil – the black? Is there something in me that must or will die, something I am attached to, something I love, even though it is “evil” and harms me? As I ponder this, the raven closes its eyes. It almost seems to me as if it is now less shiny than it was a few minutes ago.

For a while, I ponder the possible meaning of this encounter. Was it coincidence, or was there a message behind it? Sometimes nature's messages are as clear as a mountain lake, showing us the way as clearly as an arrow hitting the bullseye. But often the messages are as confusing and unclear as our own minds. Perhaps it could be the following: stop thinking too much?

In any case, our minds were and still are clouded by all the information we had gathered over the past few months. Once, near Jotunheim, we had a rather clear feeling; we got out of the car at an old farmstead and were embraced by a sense of peace. Silence surrounded us, only a few ravens cawed in greeting. ‘This is where I want to be!’ my cells vibrated. But the farm was closed. The residents were not at home. A little later, we heared that the Glittersjå farm, including the tourist business, was actually for sale. However, for about 3 million euros... Something always gets in the way of a clear decision.

A change is imminent. Right now, or in a few weeks or months?

We considered staying. In Norway, in Vågå. We looked at various properties for sale. It was more expensive than in Sweden, but still cheap compared to Switzerland or Germany. And there were some really nice houses: for example, a beautiful large log cabin with a barn and smaller cottages, plus a large plot of land for less than €500,000. But we didn't have the money. Should we rent a house or flat near our friends? There are various log cabin construction companies there where I could work. Elouan would go to a kindergarden where they had goats and chickens, among other things.

The idea of leading a relatively normal life and being rewarded with such a landscape triggered two things in me: on the one hand, a sense of relaxation. Because a decision would have been made. The search would be over for the time being. It would also bring a clear structure and financial stability to our lives. On the other hand, however, it would feel like the death of what I and we had been striving for over the last few years. Freedom, closeness to nature in everyday life and, above all, our vision of community.

Is that perhaps what has to die? The vision of being part of a community, an ecovillage, creating a different, more nature-oriented way of being human?

I realised how much focus this vision has received in recent years and how far we seem to be from truly living it.

When we joined the community in Italy, it felt like we had arrived at the beginning. But it showed us all the more clearly what a task it was to change the structures and patterns of our modern human existence. Sometimes I longed to return on our journey north. To a community embedded in nature. The forest as a learning space for Elouan and other children. Then I was plagued by nightmares again, in which our community experience in Italy played a major role. Or I lay awake for hours, pondering our life. Things couldn't go on like this! What good is our external freedom if it robs us of our inner freedom? Who or what does it serve to be part of a community when the relationship conflicts become toxic? I was on the verge of deciding that we would rent a house and I would work for a log cabin construction company. I would certainly enjoy the work for a while.

But on the one hand, it felt a bit too drastic to start in the winter, and on the other hand, we still had our things in Italy and it had been agreed that we would come back and take care of them. We also couldn't really decide whether this was the life that would suit us. We had a few friends here, but compared to Skattungbyn or Molkom, the social circle would be very small, because there was no alternative lifestyle here. And even if home schooling were possible, without being part of a community with other children it didn't seem right to us. Could we imagine sending Elouan to a regular school? It was a big decision.

In the end, we decided to let all the impressions sink in first.

Surprisingly quickly, a fairly clear plan emerged: drive back south over the winter, work at the Christmas market in Zurich, then back to Italy, partly to take care of our things there, and partly to complete the circle of our journey. And from there, look at everything with fresh energy in order to make a concrete decision.

But before we set off on our journey, we stayed for a few more days by the beautiful River Sjoa. We had a wonderful time there once again.

Silence. The sound of rushing water. Sun. Stars. We went fishing (unfortunately without success), cooked over the fire and let ourselves be inspired by the beautiful autumn nature.

Yes, after many days of rain, the sun was finally shining again. It was the end of September, and within a few days most of the birch trees had lost their golden leaves. There was frost at night. We were surrounded by air that was almost as clear as in winter. Somehow, it felt good and was beautiful. We were filled with excitement for the northern winter, which made us question our plan to travel south. But we stuck to it and just enjoyed the moment.

The stars were the most beautiful. It has been a long time since we were able to see the Milky Way so clearly. If we were ever able to gaze at it so magnificently before. We were filled with happiness and sadness at the same time. Happiness to experience this as part of life on Earth. Added to this was the knowledge and also the ignorance that one becomes aware of when looking into the vastness of countless stars. As well as sadness that most people are not even aware of the treasure we are losing due to ever-increasing light pollution and the loneliness we are creating for ourselves in the vastness of space.

Finally, we drove south along a beautiful mountain road. Rarely have we experienced such vastness as in the mountains around Jotunheim. The journey took three times as long because we had to stop constantly to admire the beauty of the landscape.

We visited our friends in Hamar, the homeschooling family, again. I got a construction job, which was very convenient for us because it allowed us to replenish our travel budget. We then treated ourselves to a restaurant visit and some nice thick wool socks.

We also visited our friend Sil and her daughter Gaia near Oslo. It was a really lovely and heartfelt reunion. We even enjoyed a cultural day in the city with them. We marvelled at the frescoes in Emanuel Vigeland's mausoleum and the sculptures by his brother Gustav Vigeland. As exciting as it was to immerse ourselves in Oslo's art culture, it was surprisingly tough and overwhelming to travel around the city by bus, tram and underground after so many months of wilderness life. The boat trip to and from Oslo was like a portal into the hustle and bustle and back again. It was clear to see that Norway is a rich country and that alternative scenes only exist in oases. The place where Sil lives is known among the people of Oslo as ‘Hippie Town’. However, when you walk past the well-tended front gardens, you see a Tesla parked in the driveway of every other house...

On our way further south, Skattungbyn and Molkom were also on the route again, as we wanted to get a feel for both places once more. This resulted in new wonderful acquaintances and possible opportunities for the future. For example, we met a woman who had also been at the Lithica Gathering. We got along well right away and had a very lively exchange about our ideas of rewilding projects and community.

The idea of living with her in a neighbourly wilderness community felt wonderful. Especially because she could see the challenges we face as parents.

In addition to the Lithica network, the Wild Moon network also revealed concrete ideas and visions for a similar project. But so far, it was all just pie in the sky, and neither land, people nor finances had been fully clarified.

In any case, our new friends are keeping their eyes and ears open for us. Who knows what will happen. Who knows what we will decide.

To make the choice even more difficult, we visited the Earthbound Ecovillage in southern Småland at the end of our trip. Large oak and beech trees welcomed us here, as did a handful of lovely people. Earthbound is a very young community that inhabits a 70-hectare estate. Their vision is to form a regenerative community that lives in close connection and communication with the land. Unfortunately, the community had just finished an intensive community week when we arrived, so the members were all a little tired and more introverted than they would have been at another time. The initiators of the project were not present. Nevertheless, we got a detailed insight and some things appealed to us very much. There are visions of self-sufficiency, their own free school and a birth temple. We were relieved to find that this community is structured very differently from Terra Amica, the community in Italy. Earthbound is very keen to break down hierarchies from the outset and create equality.

Earthbound is officially a company, and anyone who becomes a member buys a share in this company. It is not possible to buy more than one share. Members can leave at any time, in which case their share is simply paid out to them. Earthbound is still in its infancy, but the foundations appear to be very solid and well thought out. Soon, an organic garden and shop will be built here, log cabins will be erected as living space, and a large barn will house a cultural space as well as rooms for creative and sustainable companies.

We spent just under a week in Earthbound, but it was actually far too short. In fact, each of our stays at the various locations on our trip seemed too short. Because to really get to know a place, the people and life there, you have to stay for at least several weeks, if not months. The fact that we didn't reach the north until the end of July shortened our time in each place. We couldn't really immerse ourselves deeply, but we were able to gather lots of impressions and perspectives.

We also became increasingly confused about what our priority was, what was right for us at this stage in our lives. And what was even possible. We had once set out to find a wild country and like-minded people with whom we could lead a wilder, freer and more nature-oriented life. For ourselves, but also to show the world how to live in harmony with people and nature. Now, our main priority is to find a home that suits us reasonably well and to build a stable foundation. A safe nest in which our family can grow. A den. A home.

It was early November. Samhain.

Nature was preparing for winter. Animals were nesting in their burrows. Others were travelling south, and we were travelling with them. For some time, we had been accompanying cranes and geese, as well as yellow-glowing birch leaves, which would soon bid farewell to the joys of life. A new cycle was about to begin. For us, this meant returning to Germany, then to Switzerland to work at the Christmas market.

On the ferry, we look back to the north. Memories of the mountains of Jotunheim, the lakes of Värmland, the vast forests of Dalarna and the lovely landscape of Småland pass before our eyes. New friendships live in our hearts. Part of us wants to stay there. Part of us is confused. Another part wonders what may come.

We look back and ask ourselves: ‘North, are you our happiness? Or will only memories remain within us?’

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