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PER MARE PER TERRAM

Chant du monde boréal
Shoormal.
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.


CHRONICLES FROM ARCANIA

Preamble

Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.


Sunday, 10 July 2011

Happy Birthday M/S Nybakk!

Nordic world connection reunited


Just over a year ago, I was introduced to my "West Norwegian Connection" whilst being invited on board M/S NYBAKK as part of a first celebration of Norway Liberation Day on 8 May 2010.

Budding friendship burgeoned and began to flourish over time, as we kept in touch and the ship's return on our side of the North Sea promised to reinforce the bond we began to weave in 2010.


Such return coincided with the 50th Anniversary of M/S Nybakk's Venners - the fishing boat being restored and used as a floating museum under the Nybakk family & friends - which graced the harbours of both Orcadian & Shetland shores. ...Old (Viking) habits die hard! However, M/S Nybakk's Venners also wished to use their boat as a symbol of renewed friendship between Måløy and Lerwick.


To this effect, open days were orchestrated on board the ship between 24 June till 1 July. A formal meal and official evening was also organised on the final day of June. M/S Nybakk's Venners



Officials from the Shetland Islands Council, Shetland Museum, UHI Nordic Studies and Swan Trust were notably invited on board to carve that Nordic connection further in stone and a traditional dish of lytefisk (Ling) was served with great smiles. Toasts were exchanged throughout the evening. 


This reunion was very well celebrated through that gentle Simmerdim night... 


On the following day, Nybbakk's skipper, Per Kåre Nybakk, was presented with the Shetland Crest by SIC Convener Sandy Cluness.  M/S Nybakk's crew and Shetland friends were extremely proud of such honour.
To celebrate such achievement as well as our friendship, a BBQ was organised on 1 July night.
Norwegian & Shetland hospitality mirror one another. 


Another great feast was shared that night and such moments remain precious, for this friendship is cast in stone :-)


See you again soon, Nybakk's Venners! 
It was so good be re-united this year :-)

Sunday, 3 July 2011

tell me summer boreal style

...So many faces, 
just like a meadow of scentless sea mayweeds facing the sky! 
So many colours...Pristine magic! 





Even painters could take our world for a palette in Panavision! 


And when one walks on this sandbridge at St Ninian's, we lose our feet deep inside blue... 



And when sky turns to titanium...


Life continues its festival!

Monsieur Giono called it "le chant du monde" (worldsong) - here, on the island this song becomes a symphony. 

This world anchors, moors around us; the island turns a honeypot.






Then, back to blue.

Blue of the day delves into  night. after sunset.
This shade of blue darkens slightly for a short while...

Universal game of colours! 



As our world rotates closest to the sun, shades and hues stick to dreamers' dreams and through the lens!



Back to petals...


Like ballerinas in the breeze or summer rain. Shameless yellow of the iris; scented lilac of sea rocket... 



Or danger red of the sundew!

Van Gogh would be dazzled by the game of light on the island! 

Uplifting, ascending, overwhelming sense of joy as Arcania unveils itself in sheer splendour. 

Haiku companions


Flûte à bec -
baroque blackbirds bare to north breeze,
in this great summer symphony.
#haiku fae 60N 


Monkey's fist -
guillemot chicks bounce off white stacks,
adrift in this great fishers' world.
#haiku fae 60N

Crepuscular -
nothing can stop light hemorrhage,
in auto-reverse, spinning sun.
#haiku fae 60N


Tuesday, 21 June 2011

broch 2 broch

midsummer


Solstice to solstice, broch to broch... That leap from one side of the Mousa Sound to the other does not demand dexterity, but a boat trip from Cunningsburgh's Aith Voe at this time in the year. For every time I set foot on Mousa, one of my favourite offshore islands, that very name, Burraland, staring at my heart from Burgi Ayre (Castle Beach, since "broch" means "castle"!) where the foundation of a sister broch still stands, had to be eventually explored. What more apt than a sunny Saturday afternoon closest to Midsummer? Bagpacked, bootlaced, and eager to see "this other side" so long contemplated from the famous Mousa Broch... It had to be done. 


Burraland, the "land of the heather", lies east of Sandwick, just opposite Mousa. It feels a bit isolated, for it is highly exposed and stuck between the Wart of Burraland (a 72m metre high hill) and the North Sea. Broch-of-Burraland  To reach the remains of this Iron Age fortification, you need to follow the coastal walk from Leebotten or simply catch that track from The Pund, near Wart Hill. Ditches and meadows are filled with colours - monkeyflower, buttercup, shepherd's purse, cuckoo flower, red campion, red & white clover and bird's foot trefoil. Cattle may greet you at the gate, however, the track leads you to adventure!




The cliff edge is carpetted with equally wondrous colours: sea campion, thrift, bird's foot and tormentil.  And when you look to the water, emerald melts deep inside blue... A Jenny Wren (Troglodites troglodites) slashes silence for a fraction of a moment.


If the Broch remains the prize, the remains of the crofting settlement remains equally tantalizing to the imagination.  It is eerie, quilted in thick fungi and left to the bon-vouloir du temps. I was later told it was haunted! Some wild stories fly around of secrets of unwanted unmarried young mothers who were kept hidden, or "quarantined" at Burraland to avoid shame... I'm going to have to verify such stories. 


The view from the broch is simply breathtaking. 


Time-travelling in-between stones is amazing. Shetland sticks to that tradition of recycling the most common building material through eras. Unlike Mousa Broch, Burraland Broch has been literally dilapidated of its grandeur (imagine a double-walled tower standing at about 10 meter high on a ness (or headland), et voilà! But man deconstructed it to build his own dwelling. Walking around the headland feels like a a mini version of Ground Zero, with scattered lintels and other impressive stones. Like an open and unhealed scar, the fort base still remains filled with unwanted stones and sea campion, silverweed and adorned with sea pearlwort, nature has a knack with repossessing, re-starting any form of life.


So we walked closer to da bank's broo and stopped, where we spent a moment watching the other side of Mousa Sound.   From there, we watched Mousa Broch, passing wildlife - gannets, eiders, gulls and bonxies - held a conversation with a seal and waved at folk  whoa dared to stand at the top of Burraland's "sister broch". Magic afternoon.


And if the adventure was not enough, a reunion with a friend would make us cross the Sound later that Saturday night. 


Since Tom does not leave before 2300, we had dinner at Sumburgh and watched sunset adorn puffins with grace and gold... Kate's Sea & Sky of Honey inhabited my heart after ten o'clock. 


My friend wanted to see the storm petrels. So we legged it to Aith Voe and joined a boatful of tourists eager to connect with nature. I love Mousa whatever the hands say on the clock... It is magic around da Simmerdim (Midsummer). Both eerie and serene, a walk to the Mousa Broch at twilight remains deeply rooted in your heart. I shan't forget my very first time. Thousands of those minuscule seabirds (the smallest in the Petrel family) trade places using the curtain of night.  They nest everywhere around the offshore island - boulder, drystone walls... any stony cavity! - and they are the firmly established tennants of Mousa Broch during summer!
Folk stood and walked around the broch, as avian individuals flew around the human chain in seach of their mate hidden behind stones. You hear them first and if you are lucky enough to stay long enough, they come to call in Dolby Surround Sound! Unforgettable experience, Mousa by Night, that is nightless...
The iron-Age tower becomes alive, as if hundreds of mini-poltergeists flirted with mossy stones, so desperate to return home after a feast. 


Walking back to the West Ham and the return crossing to the Mainland leaves you dazzled with memories. past 1 a.m., dawn seems clad with gold and purple. The narrow inlet of water at Aith Voe somewhat looks like glass and it is time to renew with the softness of our dreams.




I doubt my friend will ever forget that moment.


And we face ourselves to Simmerdim

18 hours and 47 min of light, 
as sun will only dip in and then dip out...

Summer Solstice, Midsummer, Simmerdim,
for you, I wrote a mini-string of haiku

Summer solstice -
when dawn slithers deep inside dusk,
blackbirds offer gifts to the sun.
#haiku fae 60N

Midsummer -
in your apparel of feathers, buffalo skull,
war, scalp, sun dance.
#haiku fae 60N

Simmerdim -
sea of stars set invisble,
diminished silence on bank's broo.
#haiku fae 60N
The final one began in French...

Songe d'été -
dans mon ciel boréal  délavé,
l'aurore se donne au crépuscule.

***
Summer dream -
in my blue-washed boreal sky,
dusk yields to dawn.
#haiku fae 60N

Happy solstice celebration,
wherever you are!

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

the final leg to midsummer

wacky racer


13 days to da Simmerdim -  Midsummer, Litha or Johnsmas. 
Summer struggles against the mood of our world, resilient and industrious. Already night has turned a dream. 


Broonies'Taing (Pier)
On a light day, the island feels a termite mound: parenting birds defend their chicks against all odds - others race against cosmic clock to lay an egg after a gale. Flowers explode inside meadows... Sheer pleasure for the colourist! As we wander around headlands, we hear their calls, frantic wingbeats, as we collide into their world... A simple wander by the shore turns into single file adventure! Close to our hut, there is a dilapidated harbour and a secluded beach. 


A world of rust and organic dominates our meaning of the littoral.


Thrift at Broonies' Taing
Man's just like a bird on passage. He builds a nest on the shoreline and wanders off, according to the direction of the wind...
Nature sets a home everywhere: amidst the most unexpected, including piles of corroded machines left to teeth and claws of climate and time.


I found sea pinks flourishing in between a bed of metal and mortar! Here, at the Pier, amid concrete... Where chlorophyll reigns like a queen, like an beacon of light and life.


 And as we follow the shoreline, we forget lines of massive containers once filled with formic acid to focus on lushness of grass, summer meadows where skylarks and meadow pipits mimic each other for a song. And find orchids among buttercup and cuckoo flowers. 


Our small stretch of white sand connects us to the world.


We sometimes find eyes staring at us at the surface of the water.
And then, signatures through a myriad of prints.



They remind us we only exist among them. 


And we you look deep inside sand, we imagine a richer world. 


There, inside this quadrat of our world, I saw in the sand a stampede of wildebeests eager to reach out to the shore... The blueness of the Simmerdim, as we waded like sanderlings close to the surf. 




from one headland to another


if I tire of my familiar tongue of land,I wander off to my other great promontory and watch the world from the edge of the southern tip... On my right, the North Atlantic and on my left, its concubine, the wild North Sea. As they embrace and kiss,  waves of seabirds loot the larder. Shalders fly past and feast on greens, as they forage the stone walled fields...  


This final leg to midsummer reminds us that we shall soon reach the pinnacle of life; promises planted during spring... Like a finale in waiting by a cohort of musicians eager to share their symphony. In the meantime, sunsets still blaze deep inside skies we sometimes lose in evening mist or lazy clouds.  

Monday, 30 May 2011

wandering on the wild side

monday on the wild side


The island had temporarily eclipsed our sliding to da simmerdim (mid-summer) with gales, plummeting temperatures and freak showers... But then again, our world is resilient and it was with a certain delight a day out on the Westside of the island led us to many magical encounters. What a way to begin a brand new week! 


 our  world full of birds oystercatcher, redshank, lapwing, meadow pipit... Adult and young in a world filled with blue.
Arcania is teeming with life, as we wandered towards the edge of the west side. The more west we wandered, the more we found life on our way...

We met with Mark and shared a moment in the sun. My eyes riveted to the blue on either side of the horizon, and spoke of wild flowers encountered alongside embankments... marsh marigold, common butterwort, cuckoo flower.... A myriad of colours to welcome mid-summer in this nordic lushness.


And then, as we made our way back towards the 60th Parallel, I stopped and marveled at the evening sun beaming though leaves of a few trees - back-lit moment here, in our world. Time stopped as blackbirds filled silence with their song. What a grand way to end Monday!