June 4, 2025
I walk through the forest for the first of two rounds with all my gear. After a few minutes, a moose cow with a newborn calf passes right in front of me. Is this a way for the taiga to welcome me?
After carrying all the equipment I wait for the wind to calm, then inflate the packraft and paddle across the lake at the narrowest point, where the current picks up. Wind and rain makes me feel small out on the water.
I rest for a moment on the far shore, glad to have made it across — it’s not always possible to cross this large lake. Then I carry the gear in two loads up to the next lake. I paddle the last stretch to an island where I’ve camped before. A steady wind blows from the south. I pitch the tent and crawl inside.
Dinner is simple tonight: some bread with butter, and dried mango for dessert.
The first day of The Old Forest is at an end. Ahead lies a year in the taiga. I fall asleep to the gentle sound of waves against the heather-covered shoreline.
~June 5, 2025
I wake to the sound of wind and light rain on the tent. Today I decide to take it slow. This is my first longer outing since finishing fieldwork with Moments in the Wilderness a year ago. It will take a while before everything becomes second nature again. I need time to adjust both body and mind to life in the forest.
In the afternoon the weather clears and I head toward a small tarn. Along the way, I walk through wetlands, and a particular scent hits me — Labrador tea. I pick a few needles between my thumb and forefinger and rub them near my nose to fully take in the scent. It brings back memories of past adventures in the forest.
I continue a little further and pass an old pine stump. The trunk has long since rotted and returned to the forest, but the stump remains. I break off a piece to reveal its secret to longevity and breathe in the sweet scent of resin-rich pinewood. There is hardly a more pleasant smell.
~June 6, 2025
I spend the night under the open sky. A small fire keeps me warm as I watch the lake settle into a mirror. I enjoy a late dinner at midnight, accompanied by the distant call of a black grouse.
The temperature creeps down toward freezing. I put on extra clothes and doze for a short while before the light returns. A thin mist forms on the water’s surface and I paddle out in search of a photograph — one I don’t find this time.
Later in the morning, as the sun reaches my campsite at the north side of the lake, two old friends visit within half an hour. First, I catch something in the corner of my eye and hear a familiar sound. A Siberian jay lands in the pine tree beside me, watching me curiously. It hangs around the camp for a while before moving on.
Not long after, a shadow sweeps quickly across the ground. I look up and see a northern hawk owl gliding twenty meters above me. We make eye contact. It circles once more, inspecting me, then flies gracefully across the lake and lands in an old pine on the southern shore.
Just before midnight it returns. I see it flying over the lake straight toward me. For a moment I think it’s going to attack me, but instead it changes direction and lands in a tree right next to me. We look at each other for a while before it decides it’s had enough and disappears into the taiga.
In the forest, I am never alone.
— Magnus
