Fri Flyt - Article | Farout - event & adventures
FRI FLYT: THE ARCTIC CALLING
FRI FLYT: THE ARCTIC CALLING
Davide Sapienza, www.davidesapienza.net
Sitting in the warm cozy hytta in Dovrefjell, Davide and Eirik are two friends intent in searching through the cracks of time and space. Their fondness for the snow, the Northlands, the Arctic, exploration and opportunity in the big expanse of Norway’s northern soul – so far, and yet so close: “I have a feeling the Arctic is not really a place. It is an emotion.” This is probably how, two years ago to this day, I decided I could make it up north again and use my legs power to experience the North –since travelling overseas also to Nunavut, The Yukon and Newfoundland in Canada – and put on my skis in the wide and wonderful mystery country of the mind called “Troms”, so “farout” – the same name Eirik Bræin Gikling used for his new and original venture. Because that’s where these dreams live: farout. Like in 1997, when I was for the first time in my life in Finnmark, Kautokeino and later on again in Ersfjord, Nordland; Vadso, Finnmark. But this time, this time it was with skis.
Travelling is a good way to develop our desires, and desire is the spark of a life that can be both fulfilling and carved in wonder. Precisely how this trip to Lyngen and the surrounding areas started: with desire and the wish to explore opportunities in the big white north in winter. Desire to see the beautiful landscape of desire become real, and share it with friends – and the wonderful skipper Ivar Bertelsen that was to navigate the Arctic waters with his boat Fri Flyt (a perfect name for our journey). We have come all the way from the Italian Alps to see the beauty in Troms as the very moment of Creation, laid before us for a whole week - floating mountains and the blue sea, the wind, the silence, the tracks – of animals, and of men with skis.
Tromso is obviously a special city. Yes, the gates to the Arctic. Yes, the city surrounded by mountains and built on a strong relationship with the rest of the world. Yes, the city that has turned his isolation into a vantage point to see the world become concerned with “global warming” and a lot of gibberish gossip about the environment. The city where journeys are always bound to start – as five friends and the skipper heading to the wild blue yonder were experiencing on a cold sunday morning in late February.
In a matter of hours we were “into the wild”. It takes some time to adjust and I felt perfectly in tune through the lonely silence at the top of Blatinden, on Uloya. Ivar and the Fri Flyt disembarked us in the early hours of a wednesday morning and we all headed out of the sun and into the land of “bjork” for more than an hour with a slow and regular track into the white fresh fruit of the arctic - wondering about our route up to the top at 1189 metres. A day born out of the windy womb of the arctic that whirled us inside the very moment of creation. I looked at my friends, I looked out to Arnoya to the north and to Lyngen. And what did I see? I saw the whole world. Yes, the whole world was there and it was ripe with promise and opportunity: the Arctic is the first ray of light, the Arctic is the big bang that comes from the frozen mystery beyond our imagination. The Arctic is emotion turned and distilled into light, the nectar of beyond.
And then, down we head on a beautiful carpet of white snow, virgin daughter of wind and sky, and down to the hidden realm of elk and bjork, where we all look at each other with a funny smile, and the pain of beauty in our hearts. I see them now - here in my home - the silent little houses on the coast of Uloya. I remember how good it felt to get back into Fri Flyt, and be welcomed by the friendly and reassuring smile of Captain Ivar – the look in his eyes approving: “there are a lot of things happening at sea.”
Norge, land of explorers and dreamers, quiet haven for many: we have come to sail our skis across your white nectar, and on the Fri Flyt we have returned to “camp” – Tromso – across wild and unpredictable waters. I am still looking out at “Fuggeløya” as if the island was ready to sail and follow us to our homes. Fri Flyt in the endless and mysterious mirage called Arctic – strong and powerful like the slopes that graced us with their welcome smile made of wind. Arctic Dreams, everyone.
Davide Sapienza, www.davidesapienza.net
Sitting in the warm cozy hytta in Dovrefjell, Davide and Eirik are two friends intent in searching through the cracks of time and space. Their fondness for the snow, the Northlands, the Arctic, exploration and opportunity in the big expanse of Norway’s northern soul – so far, and yet so close: “I have a feeling the Arctic is not really a place. It is an emotion.” This is probably how, two years ago to this day, I decided I could make it up north again and use my legs power to experience the North –since travelling overseas also to Nunavut, The Yukon and Newfoundland in Canada – and put on my skis in the wide and wonderful mystery country of the mind called “Troms”, so “farout” – the same name Eirik Bræin Gikling used for his new and original venture. Because that’s where these dreams live: farout. Like in 1997, when I was for the first time in my life in Finnmark, Kautokeino and later on again in Ersfjord, Nordland; Vadso, Finnmark. But this time, this time it was with skis.
Travelling is a good way to develop our desires, and desire is the spark of a life that can be both fulfilling and carved in wonder. Precisely how this trip to Lyngen and the surrounding areas started: with desire and the wish to explore opportunities in the big white north in winter. Desire to see the beautiful landscape of desire become real, and share it with friends – and the wonderful skipper Ivar Bertelsen that was to navigate the Arctic waters with his boat Fri Flyt (a perfect name for our journey). We have come all the way from the Italian Alps to see the beauty in Troms as the very moment of Creation, laid before us for a whole week - floating mountains and the blue sea, the wind, the silence, the tracks – of animals, and of men with skis.
Tromso is obviously a special city. Yes, the gates to the Arctic. Yes, the city surrounded by mountains and built on a strong relationship with the rest of the world. Yes, the city that has turned his isolation into a vantage point to see the world become concerned with “global warming” and a lot of gibberish gossip about the environment. The city where journeys are always bound to start – as five friends and the skipper heading to the wild blue yonder were experiencing on a cold sunday morning in late February.
In a matter of hours we were “into the wild”. It takes some time to adjust and I felt perfectly in tune through the lonely silence at the top of Blatinden, on Uloya. Ivar and the Fri Flyt disembarked us in the early hours of a wednesday morning and we all headed out of the sun and into the land of “bjork” for more than an hour with a slow and regular track into the white fresh fruit of the arctic - wondering about our route up to the top at 1189 metres. A day born out of the windy womb of the arctic that whirled us inside the very moment of creation. I looked at my friends, I looked out to Arnoya to the north and to Lyngen. And what did I see? I saw the whole world. Yes, the whole world was there and it was ripe with promise and opportunity: the Arctic is the first ray of light, the Arctic is the big bang that comes from the frozen mystery beyond our imagination. The Arctic is emotion turned and distilled into light, the nectar of beyond.
And then, down we head on a beautiful carpet of white snow, virgin daughter of wind and sky, and down to the hidden realm of elk and bjork, where we all look at each other with a funny smile, and the pain of beauty in our hearts. I see them now - here in my home - the silent little houses on the coast of Uloya. I remember how good it felt to get back into Fri Flyt, and be welcomed by the friendly and reassuring smile of Captain Ivar – the look in his eyes approving: “there are a lot of things happening at sea.”
Norge, land of explorers and dreamers, quiet haven for many: we have come to sail our skis across your white nectar, and on the Fri Flyt we have returned to “camp” – Tromso – across wild and unpredictable waters. I am still looking out at “Fuggeløya” as if the island was ready to sail and follow us to our homes. Fri Flyt in the endless and mysterious mirage called Arctic – strong and powerful like the slopes that graced us with their welcome smile made of wind. Arctic Dreams, everyone.
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