In that very moment, Mother Earth was speaking to me.
Kornsjø, Norway. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
Sounds a little bit odd in your ears, I guess. Mine too, for that sake. Like a hippie or a member of the alternative society.
However, it is comforting. Healing, as well. It could protect you from anxiousness and depression. I highly recommend this medicine. To walk in nature and listen to mother earth. It is where we belong. It is where it all began. Not in a humanmade artificial environment, remote from everything natural. So, let us get back.
Kornsjø, Norway. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
Late September, I woke up early in the morning, curious to catch the rising sun. Not all mornings are the same; the light conditions can differ a lot. It could be too bright or too cloudy. But this morning was outstanding. No wind at all, the water lies like a mirror. The mist over the lake. The bright clouds. The clean air. The smell of autumn. And the silence was overwhelming. Lucky me, I thought. What colour cascade. What a magic moment. And there was I equipped with my iPhone 11. My only camera.
Kornsjø, Norway. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
Everything glows—the contrasts between light and shadow. In the east, from the Swedish side of the lake, I can hear a wolf scream in the far distant. Besides that, just silence.
Kornsjø, Norway. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
Look at the tiny cabin, floating on the mist. It lies on its small islet, separated from the island where I stood.
Kornsjø, Norway. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
The clouds sailed in convoy over the sky, stretching out its fingers from Sweden towards Norway.
Kornsjø, Norway. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
So near, but still too far distant – some places I can toss stones at Sweden – nevertheless Covid-19 makes us parted. That is a surreal situation.
But if the very bedrock under my feet could speak, it would say this is a small and short-lived problem. A glacial period of hundreds of thousands of years made a more significant impact when this bedrock was lying under the pressure of a two kilometres layer of ice. A vast amount of frozen water that melted away just some ten thousand years ago.
Quite impressing to know. It makes me realize that Mother Nature is a strange mother, indeed, and we must live our lives under her conditions – follow her rules. We need her, but she does not need us. We`re just lucky to be here.
Midsummer 2020 has been one of the most bizarre in my life, filled with silence and a lack of cheeriness. I even got a sense of breaking the law.
The Channel. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
The Channel
On the brightest day of the year, when the sun barely goes down, there was a shadow hanging over me. All thanks to the Covid-19 virus, which parted us Norwegians from our dear neighbours in the east. The Swedes, known for their joyful midsummer celebrations, were almost absent at Kornsjø — a lake on the border.
Well, I must confess: Yes, we crossed the border. More than once. Mainly on the lake. We even went a couple of kilometres into Sweden, into a narrow channel, under a bridge, where some of us got worried. Flying trouble in the air.
«Look out! There’s Batman!»
«Oh, is he that small? I’m not impressed.»
Not quite like that, these quotes were from another trip, but we joked about it now as well. Nevertheless, this time it was different. Now there was mention of bats and the Covid-19 virus, and we decided to turn back to Norway again.
Should we have been sentenced to 10 days of quarantine?
No, I do not think so. We did not meet any Swedes, other than at a safe distance, only on the water.
The Batman bridge is in the background Acrylic on canvas 50 x70 cm Painting: Tom ThowsenThe Channel from another trip where we used a canoe, in the happy days before the virus came. Photo: Tom Thowsen
The Signs
Two border signs. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
In some places, Sweden is exceptionally near, so close that we can toss stones at each other. The island to the left is Sweden. The pole in the foreground, and the cabin as well, is in Norway. Hey, you`re bound to break the law when travelling by boat. There are no markings on the waves.
Hisøya island
Hisøya island. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
The next day we visited «riksrøys» number one, a border marker from 1752, situated on Hisøya island. As you can see, the trees are chopped away along the borderlines — all the way down to the watershed.
Here some noblemen greeted us. — Yes, it is true. We saw their monograms carved in stone, placed at the top of the cairn. Strong guys? Yeah. It must have been a difficult job for them, to stack all these rocks into this fantastic pile. Just look at the photo; how proud they look.
The guy to the right, he with the sword in his hand, is the reflection of Frederick V. He was a freemason who loved to party. Besides that, he was king of Denmark and Norway. He would indeed have joined our midsummer celebrations if he could.
Hmm, one other thing that caught my attention — his sword. Did he cut down all those trees on his own? All by himself?
The guy to the left, Adolf Frederick, was also a Freemason. But as a Swede, he loved snuff. His favourite hobby was making snuffboxes, which he allegedly spent a great deal of time doing. He was supposedly a good husband, a caring father, and a gentle master to his servants. Besides all that, he was also the king of Sweden. A hard-working man!
Hisøya island and the borderline. Google Earth.
To make borders is a troublesome business—no wonder why they look so strange. Danes, Norwegians, and Swedes have argued about them for centuries. They have fought numerous wars and have been moving them back and forth and back again. Somewhere it follows a creek, and otherwhere it follows unexpected turns.
However, as this monument shows, they came to an agreement in 1752, or more precisely, one year previous, in 1751.
These kings did neither know that a crazy author of suspense books should pass this border 268 years later – illegally! Almost 1400 metres into Sweden. Still, nothing compared to getting illegally into Belarus. But that is another story.
Lake Kornsjø marked with a red squareMy wife handles our boat near Hisøya island. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2020
After we met with the kings, we headed back to our boat and left Hisøya island while the wind whispered gently in our ears: “Everything will be fine. One day the borders will open again.”
One year later
A Swedish farm at Lake Kornsjø, which could resemble a typical summer residence for Norwegians. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2021
Since 2019, the borders had been closed almost like during WW2. Both our government and our citizens were tired of the whole situation. It was a living nightmare for those who lived in one country and had to work in the other. They really had a hard time those days.
The same goes for those who had summer houses on the wrong side of the border. It went on for many months.
In the media, we heard of a desperate Norwegians caught while they illegally travelled by helicopter to their summer residence in Sweden. Apparently not a good choice. Noisy and expensive too.
I also read about one incident where a police squad hunted a 60-year-old woman. She had received a briefcase on the border. The poor, terrified woman left her car and ran far into the woods before they caught her. Mostly cigarettes, which are much cheaper in Sweden.
From the Norwegian side of Lake Kornsjø. With a view towards Sweden. Photo: Tom Thowsen 2021
In the meanwhile, I improve my self-discipline with stone balancing. This one lasted for five minutes. It was blowing in the wind that whispered: It will be over soon …
It luckily happened some months later, in 2022
PS. This sculpture would generally have fallen over to the right due to gravity. So why didn’t it? A crack in the bedrock holds it fast.
TOM THOWSEN 