Experiencing Stone Age life in Arctic Sweden
Diary - Day 5:
“It’s 10pm and I’m hand-carving reindeer antler by candlelight in a smoke-filled cabin. The cold Arctic air creeping in through gaps in the wooden floor and biting at my toes. Five days earlier I was whizzing through the Swedish countryside on a night train to get this far north. And now, away from the hustle and bustle of civilisation as I know it, I feel like I’ve entered a whole new world. A calm world full of magnificence, where I think clearly and feel so grounded. Almost like something deep within me is at home here.”
Since I was young, I’ve been fascinated by how our ancestors lived. I love the rawness and simplicity of it. Today, I find myself in a forest near Jokkmokk in Arctic Sweden, learning to live like the Stone Age and exploring traditional Sami culture. I feel like I’ve jumped into a storybook. Eyes wide open with wonder and heart eager to learn.
These 10 days have shown me so much more than just how to ‘survive’ in the Arctic winter. They’ve shown me how to live and thrive in it. How to laugh, play and find the magic in every moment, in this snow-filled forest in temperatures as low as -30 degrees.
Into the Forest. . .
Day 1, Friday:
As the sun was setting, we trekked along a narrowing path through the deep, deep snow and into the forest. The sound of a river flowing fast somewhere underneath beside a frozen lake. Reaching our destination we gathered around a campfire like moths to a light, huddled in close to keep warm. This was it. This was our group. The people I would grow to know over the next few days. The like-minded folk who share my passion for living close to the land.
The forest near Jokkmokk, Arctic Sweden
A Cabin in the woods
That first night, we stayed in a basic cabin. No running water, no electricity, no toilet, and the log walls cold to touch. Simplicity at its max and the best way to describe this place is ‘Hugge’, a Danish word meaning “a quality of cosiness (feeling warm, comfortable, and safe)”.
Cabin in the woods - ‘rustic & cosy’ with 16 people
Our hand-built ‘Snow Village’
Day 2 - Saturday:
After preparing a reindeer to feed us for our time here in the north, we set out into the forest to build a Stone Age village out of snow in a small clearing. We walked for a while to find the right spot, with clear views of the sky and where the land is shaped to capture more heat. Not too low and near the river where the coldest air collects and not too high on a hill where we’d be exposed if the wind picked up.
Hours later, we’d packed down a big section of snow ready to saw into building blocks to create our igloos!
Diary - Day 2:
“Yesterday I felt like a cross between Bambi and a bull in a china shop.
Falling and stumbling on my unsteady feet and leaving Amanda shaped patterns in the snow. Wearing snowshoes makes me feel safer today. I like to think I look a little more like I know what I’m doing now.”
Day 3, Sunday:
Overnight our packed down snow set perfectly into building block material and we spent the day building 2 types of shelter - Quinzhees and block houses. Let me know what you think! Rate our igloos in the comments section!
Snow shelter, block house in our Stone Age snow village
Living in the snow
Diary - Day 4 - written from inside my igloo before bed:
“Looking out through the fur hood of my big warm winter coat at the snowy forest. A wonderland. Here the snow and forest is like no snow and forest I’ve seen before. Have I walked into a storybook? Am I dreaming?
Here, the snow is so soft and fine, like desert sand, the tiniest bit of wind and it blows softly from branches above. It’s so still. Peaceful. This wonderful land in light and darkness. So still. So pure.
The snow falling from the sky and on the ground glitters, like in a snow dome which you shake upside down.
My eyes are wide, taking it in.
It’s stunning.
I have to stop writing now, my fingers are freezing.”
The Darkness - a place of dreams and creativity
There’s a certain enchantment and calmness about this place. In the evenings when we’re in the cabin, we craft, sing, read and write by candlelight.
It’s dark by 3:30pm and light again by 9am and changing rapidly as the midpoint of winter releases its grip on the land and the sun stays to play with us a little longer each day.
Diary - Day 4:
“The forest is beautiful at night. I really love it.
I’m amazed and totally mind-blown at how light it is at night here.
The vast white blankets of snow covering the ground reflects the moonlight.
It’s light enough to walk across the forest without a head torch.”
Writing by candlelight, inside the cabin
The Aurora
Diary - Day 5
“It’s not only the snow that dances up here. A beautiful show of northern lights in emerald green drew us outside tonight. Our eyes peeled to the Arctic Sky of the north. Our fingers and toes painfully freezing in the cold. A backdrop of bright, bright stars, planets and silhouettes of trees against the deep midnight blue and dancing green across the sky as far as we can see.
I can’t help but wonder what our ancestors would have thought of this. In a time before modern science. The spirits of the reindeer we’re eating leaving this land? Perhaps.
Whose muscle, fat and bone broth are feeding us keeping this week and us alive, whose antlers and bones we are grateful for to make tools, whose skin we curl up against at night to protect us and keep us warm from the cold. ”
The Aurora - watching the northern lights in the forest
Vegan Fail
I ate the reindeer.
It’s cold, and we’re working out in the snow. My vegan ways are out. Morality being questioned in the back of my mind.
It’s odd eating meat after so long. Each day, I’m infinitely grateful for the calories, grateful for the zero food miles. But still, I feel a sadness and a great respect for this creature. I feel connected to it in some way. There’s something humbling about getting food this way, rather than pre-packaged in Tescos.
I’m keen that nothing from this reindeer will be wasted. The bones make our stock, the sinew we are using for sewing thread, the antlers for our handmade tools, and even the Astragalus (ankle) bones we’ll use as a tool to start fires.
Gratitude
Every night before dinner, we gather to share what we are grateful for today. It’s one of my favourite parts of the day, sharing the moments each of us have loved. I feel so humbled, to see the world through their eyes and them through mine.
Some highlights for me have been:
Something I will never forget is the cosiness of the snow shelter and the soft golden colours from the candlelight, flickering and glowing against the snow.
Digging down through the snow, through the ice, making a little round hole (enough to fit a small bucket through) to collect fresh drinking water from beneath the snow and ice.
The wisdom, playfulness, and kindness of these people. They have eyes that tell a thousand stories.
The moon casting long shadows behind the trees, the star-scattered sky and the dancing aurora in beautiful colours of green. I will miss this very much!
Last light - Saying goodnight in our igloo snow village
Feeling at home
As the days go on, I’ve learnt to walk in the snow. I’ve learnt to dance in it, run through it, to make snow angels in it. :-)
Minus 15 degrees feels like a warm day to me now. I can cope with about half as many layers of clothing as I wore at the beginning of the trip - which makes moving around so much freer!
Feeling far from the modern world and technology and crowds of people, I’m finding my senses are alive, and I’m noticing so much more about my surroundings.
I feel connected to this land, wiser knowing how to survive and thrive in it. Perhaps in a way not too dissimilar to how our ancestors would have done. And I feel inspired that there are communities here today, living close to the land, passing down the skills, songs and most of all, the stories.
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