I hadn't meant to go to the beach today. It was more a case of having to go to the village for some emergency supplies. It was the first day the rain stopped. It's been the sort of rain that scares you, non stop for days. Loud slashing teamed up with violent winds, testing my cabins legs on the hill side and making me worry about my blackbird.
When I came out of the forest there was even pale sun, making the clouds transparent white gold. I might go to the beach I thought.
It was only my second visit. The first was in bright sun, the most sun I have ever seen in the winter time in fact. And there was snow on the sand and a whole sea urchin shell, coffee on the rocks and a diving board.
The rain has washed the snow away, making the fjord full to bursting with clear snow sea water. It almost looked inviting as the sand gently sloped into the clear non threatening water because you could still see the bottom.
It's not a fancy beach. Or a large beach on the ocean. It's just a village beach for the locals. The sand was probably put there and there's a factory to one side, but it's just a small Norwegian one. Made of wood, so not bad as far as factories go. I could almost hear the teenagers in the summer time. The ones from the Kiwi supermarket, stripped from their bright cartoon green uniforms, diving off the diving board, flirting with the girls. There's a hut with a life ring and a shower. A bar b q area and a wooden staircase which leads over rocks to the diving board. I love how its a fjord with a mountain right on the opposite shore, but its sea water. In another part of the shore, near where the boats are, you can look right down to the bottom and see huge spiky sea urchins and orange starfish, but the sea is some miles away.
I thought about winter swimming. If only I was brave enough. Maybe if I was with a braver than me friend who would egg me on and we made a fire before and had dry clothes and a flask and maybe even some whisky for when we got out. Maybe. And maybe a female friend would be best so I wouldn't have to think about my winter legs and flinging off a wet costume in adrenalin panic, freezing cold. I haven't had a female friend in 2 months.
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Monday, 20 January 2014
Day 12
I'm writing this because I've turned into a person on F*cebook who is probably annoying semi friends. That, and my cooler friends don't use it.
To catch up, some exerts from my diary. My diary is my routine. I get up, hopefully at a reasonable hour (but that means the sun hasn't risen), make tea, (I brought 40 bags), sit at my kitchen table and write. I am not a morning person when around others, but here I do just fine.
Day 1.
What I really want is to not worry about time.
I've woken up in my own cabin. My own cabin! I don't get it, I feel like I've won a prize. There are mountains with snow, other cabins. Christmas trees, tupperware sky.
My head can't grasp 3 months, but I need to relax.
In the night I was filled with adrenalin and I was thinking how anything goes at the airport. I had 5 hours at Bergen airport. You can sleep on chairs/ lay down in public. Take your shoes off. Look like shit. Loiter in shops. Spray expensive perfume you'll never buy. Drink beer at any time of the day.
Day 2.
I managed to walk along the fjord a bit. It didn't stop raining once. Thank goodness for Gortex! The rain is stopping me falling in love.
Day 3.
I needed to walk. The sign said 8.3 km, a marked circular walk. Fine I thought, I'd packed a banana, chocolate, water. It wasn't raining.
The path soon ascended quite steeply through skinny, dense pines. It was spooky. Quiet wind made them sway and bump into one another, creek and groan. If you looked into the forest it was oppressing. It didn't feel good.
Past the tree line, the landscape changed suddenly. Across moss and stone, views of snowy peaks, the great mass of fjord, tiny farm steds. Then up again. Up, up, up. It was subtle, til I realized my city, christmas body was struggling.
At the top I realised I'd just climbed a frigging mountain! But there was a bench and it felt good. There were even patches of snow. I walked along the plateau, cold and windy. I got to a lonley wooden sign post and had to guess the way. But there were still red dots to follow. The path went left into a small rocky, marshy valley. Waterfalls wetting the rock. On and on, my mind no longer on silly thoughts, but survival! I ate my last bit of chocolate.
Eventually into the forest and it got pretty. Mossy glades, gushing streams, I wondered about trolls.
I actually got lost right at the end. Out the forest I came to a Norwegian forest cat sat by a boulder, he didn't help. I could see Dale, but I was too near the bridge. I figured it out and made a messy exit crashing through undergrowth, right by the studios. I hoped no one had seen.
Ate last nights spag bog, lay on the sofa. Ten minutes later it was dark.
Thursday.
Arild (the director) took me and the new artist, Paul, on a trip to Forde this morning. Apparantly Forde has been voted Norways ugliest town. But it has an art shop and a booze shop. Also an Asian food shop and a recycling centre. I bought a kitten cross stitch to cover my spooky bedroom window, and a nordic looking fruit bowl. I am pleased with my purchases.
Scenic drive home cheered me right up; snowy mountains, glass water, big waterfalls and bits of sun.
Had a beer at 6 and started painting. We'll see.
Made a stew and a fire. Watched Netflix under a duvet, alone again. Loud rain all night.
Saturday.
I've made a friend! We had some food and wine together. Feels good.
Sunday.
Painted lots. I actually have ideas, I'm surrounded by them. This one is of a very dark fjorde and a tiny boat I saw, the tops of houses at the bottom. Feel like it's the first time I've ever painted in my life. So fragile.
Monday.
The relief of snow. And a beautiful blackbird on my deck as if he's decided it's now cold enough to ask for food. I fed him and will do so every day.
Woke in the night worrying about getting bored and feeling stuck here. It's because sometimes I feel like a pretend artist. I just need to use the time to paint, not paint to fill in time.
Tuesday
Blackbird was waiting for me this morning. I'll walk into Dale this morning and buy some seed.
Yesterday was the first day I wasn't in awe of my surroundings. It was just really cold and grey, still snowy. My studio just wouldn't heat up. I sipped vodka.
So fed up at lunch time I fried bacon and watched Man v wild with Bear Ghryls. Then I Googled Bear Ghrls v Ray Mears.
Paintings going well, blackbird, snow and tiny lights.
Had tinned mackerel, rice, broccoli and carrots. Watched another man v wild and two episodes of The Bridge. Felt a bit blue.
Wednesday 15th jan.
Did not sleep well. Nearly full moon shining right through my blinds.
Pink mountain
Moon
Ponies.
Thursday.
Up at 8, dark. Fed Blackie, cold.
Did the windy steep forest path to Dale yesterday. Never again, treacherous! Saw ponies. I found out later they are Norwegian fjord horses and are the oldest of breeds. They are prehistoric looking with their short up right manes and thick coats.
Friday
Paul showed me his paintings. His studio seems nicer than mine. It's organised and full of work and equipment. Theres a plant and paper on the floor. Mines wasted on me, I've just built a nest in the middle. He also has 2 shows coming up and more than one gallery. I had a little cry, then painted a pony. Looks like a ten year old did it.
Saturday.
Got drunk and started a big painting. Felt good to loosen up.
Sunday 19th Jan
We went on our trip yesterday. Over the bridge to the other side, through a tunnel then a statue of a mighty viking looking out toward the sea. We were heading for the sea.
At the town of Askvol we walked around in the cold and wind. Saw ferries, wondered where they went.
We drove as far as we could out on a peninsular. Shear cliffs and the sea, obscured by tiny islands. Ancient trees, occasional wooden houses and a beautiful hairy horse.
Then another peninsular drive, bleaker still. A trail with a sign 'to the rock carvings' which were faint and had a button in the rock to press for light.
To catch up, some exerts from my diary. My diary is my routine. I get up, hopefully at a reasonable hour (but that means the sun hasn't risen), make tea, (I brought 40 bags), sit at my kitchen table and write. I am not a morning person when around others, but here I do just fine.
Day 1.
What I really want is to not worry about time.
I've woken up in my own cabin. My own cabin! I don't get it, I feel like I've won a prize. There are mountains with snow, other cabins. Christmas trees, tupperware sky.
My head can't grasp 3 months, but I need to relax.
In the night I was filled with adrenalin and I was thinking how anything goes at the airport. I had 5 hours at Bergen airport. You can sleep on chairs/ lay down in public. Take your shoes off. Look like shit. Loiter in shops. Spray expensive perfume you'll never buy. Drink beer at any time of the day.
Day 2.
I managed to walk along the fjord a bit. It didn't stop raining once. Thank goodness for Gortex! The rain is stopping me falling in love.
Day 3.
I needed to walk. The sign said 8.3 km, a marked circular walk. Fine I thought, I'd packed a banana, chocolate, water. It wasn't raining.
The path soon ascended quite steeply through skinny, dense pines. It was spooky. Quiet wind made them sway and bump into one another, creek and groan. If you looked into the forest it was oppressing. It didn't feel good.
Past the tree line, the landscape changed suddenly. Across moss and stone, views of snowy peaks, the great mass of fjord, tiny farm steds. Then up again. Up, up, up. It was subtle, til I realized my city, christmas body was struggling.
At the top I realised I'd just climbed a frigging mountain! But there was a bench and it felt good. There were even patches of snow. I walked along the plateau, cold and windy. I got to a lonley wooden sign post and had to guess the way. But there were still red dots to follow. The path went left into a small rocky, marshy valley. Waterfalls wetting the rock. On and on, my mind no longer on silly thoughts, but survival! I ate my last bit of chocolate.
Eventually into the forest and it got pretty. Mossy glades, gushing streams, I wondered about trolls.
I actually got lost right at the end. Out the forest I came to a Norwegian forest cat sat by a boulder, he didn't help. I could see Dale, but I was too near the bridge. I figured it out and made a messy exit crashing through undergrowth, right by the studios. I hoped no one had seen.
Ate last nights spag bog, lay on the sofa. Ten minutes later it was dark.
Thursday.
Arild (the director) took me and the new artist, Paul, on a trip to Forde this morning. Apparantly Forde has been voted Norways ugliest town. But it has an art shop and a booze shop. Also an Asian food shop and a recycling centre. I bought a kitten cross stitch to cover my spooky bedroom window, and a nordic looking fruit bowl. I am pleased with my purchases.
Scenic drive home cheered me right up; snowy mountains, glass water, big waterfalls and bits of sun.
Had a beer at 6 and started painting. We'll see.
Made a stew and a fire. Watched Netflix under a duvet, alone again. Loud rain all night.
Saturday.
I've made a friend! We had some food and wine together. Feels good.
Sunday.
Painted lots. I actually have ideas, I'm surrounded by them. This one is of a very dark fjorde and a tiny boat I saw, the tops of houses at the bottom. Feel like it's the first time I've ever painted in my life. So fragile.
Monday.
The relief of snow. And a beautiful blackbird on my deck as if he's decided it's now cold enough to ask for food. I fed him and will do so every day.
Woke in the night worrying about getting bored and feeling stuck here. It's because sometimes I feel like a pretend artist. I just need to use the time to paint, not paint to fill in time.
Tuesday
Blackbird was waiting for me this morning. I'll walk into Dale this morning and buy some seed.
Yesterday was the first day I wasn't in awe of my surroundings. It was just really cold and grey, still snowy. My studio just wouldn't heat up. I sipped vodka.
So fed up at lunch time I fried bacon and watched Man v wild with Bear Ghryls. Then I Googled Bear Ghrls v Ray Mears.
Paintings going well, blackbird, snow and tiny lights.
Had tinned mackerel, rice, broccoli and carrots. Watched another man v wild and two episodes of The Bridge. Felt a bit blue.
Wednesday 15th jan.
Did not sleep well. Nearly full moon shining right through my blinds.
Pink mountain
Moon
Ponies.
Thursday.
Up at 8, dark. Fed Blackie, cold.
Did the windy steep forest path to Dale yesterday. Never again, treacherous! Saw ponies. I found out later they are Norwegian fjord horses and are the oldest of breeds. They are prehistoric looking with their short up right manes and thick coats.
Paul showed me his paintings. His studio seems nicer than mine. It's organised and full of work and equipment. Theres a plant and paper on the floor. Mines wasted on me, I've just built a nest in the middle. He also has 2 shows coming up and more than one gallery. I had a little cry, then painted a pony. Looks like a ten year old did it.
Saturday.
Got drunk and started a big painting. Felt good to loosen up.
Sunday 19th Jan
We went on our trip yesterday. Over the bridge to the other side, through a tunnel then a statue of a mighty viking looking out toward the sea. We were heading for the sea.
At the town of Askvol we walked around in the cold and wind. Saw ferries, wondered where they went.
We drove as far as we could out on a peninsular. Shear cliffs and the sea, obscured by tiny islands. Ancient trees, occasional wooden houses and a beautiful hairy horse.
Then another peninsular drive, bleaker still. A trail with a sign 'to the rock carvings' which were faint and had a button in the rock to press for light.
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