“Arctic Silence” Companion Essay

FIMBULWINTER

Stepping off the plane and into the winter air, the latitude hit me. It was noon above the Arctic Circle, and the sun sat low in the sky, casting a golden glow through thick cloud cover. The tolerable discomfort of international travel behind me, the drive north was a relief to the senses. The Norwegian landscape unfolded through narrow winding roads, and countless frozen waterfalls leaned over black cliffs, suspended in blue and yellow-green. Except for the minor human intrusion of dilapidated villages, the endless valleys were truly wild. Hours passed and the sun moved, very gradually, towards the horizon.

Going into my trip to Norway, expectation played a heavy role in my planning. I spent endless hours searching for unique vantages on Google Earth, scouting out potential sunrise, sunset, and aurora-oriented locations. I dreamt of the classic arctic winter landscape - dramatic light, soaring peaks, and lots of snow. As the long drive north from the airport wound down, however, it started to rain. And once it started, it did not stop. For the four nights in our fjordside cabin, warm storms blanketed the island. The hillsides were a muddy green, and the dramatic peaks were engulfed in a near-constant veil of thick cloud. This threw a major wrench in my plans; all chances of Aurora chasing were out the window. More pressingly, without seeing any of the peaks that rose invisibly overhead, my wide-angle lens was as good as a paperweight. 

As a result of the photographic constraints, I pointed my camera downwards. Instead of the dramatic scenes I had envisioned, I found myself wandering through rainy birch forests, studying the thick tundra mosses and fascinating rock formations around me. Those fleeting moments when the heavens briefly slackened their downpour gave me my first real glimpse into the feeling of the Scandinavian landscape. As banal as this may sound, it was easy to see how the people of the Viking age could imagine trolls and giants roaming the barren earth. I did my best to shoot when possible, but the majority of my time was spent peering out the window at the incessant downpour. 

Stormy Conditions Along the Norwegian Coast

Mild frustration absorbed me as we began the long drive south. Thick flakes floated down in front of the headlights, fleeting apparitions amongst the black pre-dawn landscape. As the car sped through silent villages, the distant sun gradually illuminated the gentle fjords. With the sun and peaks finally visible, I grew increasingly excited about my surroundings. A few key elements (the only elements on display, really) spoke to me. Water in its many forms, from the brackish fjords to the rime-capped peaks, made up the landscape. Beyond snow and ice, two elements stood out against the endless white: rock and tree. Peppered with perfect frequency across the bright void, the black dots of granite boulders added an extra layer of balance to an otherwise scaleless landscape. The few bare birch trees that clung to mountainsides or clawed their way up from powder-choked valleys hunched resiliently, clear allegories for the endurance of life in the grating conditions.

With luck on our side, the second leg of the trip offered much better conditions. The snow of my dreams came at last, coating the coastline in a deep powder. There were moments of clear skies too - dark nights spent basking in the polychromatic dazzle of the Aurora Borealis - but that’s a story for a later time. The forced immersion of our stormy first leg fresh in my mind, I took a slower, more purposive approach to my photography. The details that I’d spent such a significant chunk of time studying, normally mere pixels in a grand landscape, sprung to life. Exploring the simple minutiae around me, the hunched trees and snowbanks, the ice-locked bays and frozen streams, helped me to not only convey my experience above the Arctic Circle, but to realize it. The poor weather of the trip’s beginning, cause of much vexation, helped me see the Scandinavian landscape in a different light. 

While nothing beats being there, my primary hope is that these images transcend any verbose description of the Norwegian landscape and offer a truly immersive glimpse into the scenery of the frozen north.