Every year in the second week of February I pack my sleigh and set out for a weeklong journey over the mountains from Sweden to reach the openingday of Røros winter fair in Norway. In my company I usually have 10-15 horses and 30-40 men and women who travel together. It is amazing, truly magical in so many aspects. My only regret has been how few people that are able to share the experience with me. This blogg is an attempt to give you all a glipse of magic and perhaps one day some of you will feel the urge to set out on a journey of your own... (Anette was kind enough to keep the entries of 2012 when I could not join)


Sunday, February 6, 2011

Like most people I am travelling to reach a destination but my destination this time happens to be a journey... Yes, it’s almost time to pack the sleigh and head out on another snowy adventure, starting Wednesday morning.

At the moment I am on the night-train to Östersund, Capital of Jämtland County, and I’m travelling along the railway-track that actually became the end of Forbönder and that era when sleigh-transported trade was the was the way to do it. On the other hand, the railway connecting Røros with Trondheim’s harbour became a gateway to the world for Jämtlandic farmers and on this route the trade by sleigh really picked up after 1860.

The 12h trip I’m doing tonight by train would have taken about a month with horse and sleigh, provided the weather conditions and all factors imaginable were playing on the same team. I can’t help reflecting on the development of infrastructure and change of pace in society. I remember a story I once heard, the details might be a bit fuzzy but...

-A few years ago a chieftain from a rather remote location was travelling to attend an important international meeting, -to represent the native population of his region. He also, for the first time, experienced to airplane travel. When he successfully reached the destination his travelcompanions hurried off to make the first bus into town, while our chieftain sat down on a bench and waited quietly. The others were a bit annoyed since he kept them from leaving and they asked what was taking him so long. The chieftain calmly answered that he now he had to wait for his soul to arrive.

I can’t help picturing all the souls that are hurrying around after their bodies in shopping centers, office cubicles and on highways,always one step behind, in hope of catching up before death catch up with them both.

In a sleigh there’s fortunately room for both body and soul and the pace is soul-appropriate. (Mine, soul that is, usually manage to catch up around lunchtime on the first day of travelling, so I suppose I suffer approximately a 4 Hour Soul-jetlag..

1 comment:

  1. I know exactly what you mean! That's why boats are better than planes and sleighs are better than trains!

    ReplyDelete


About Me

Home is often, too often perhaps, defined by where my backpack last was unpacked and part of the year home is in a sleigh somewhere in the mountains between Norway and Sweden...