The beach is empty and small riddles of sand forms around a few stones in the wind. The beach is famous. "The finest sand in the world" the locals claim.
Trees meeting the sea
For years they have been looking at each other. And for every year the sea moved a bit closer
Following a stream to a watermill
From the beach I couldn't see much, but following the stream up I soon faced an old watermill
Nobody is here
Walked between the small shacks build more or less together, my backpack telling I was not a local. Not one of the fishermen who owned these shacks, but there were nobody listening
Rocks where I thought not
Walking across the beach I come to some red, what look like rocks. There shouldn't be rocks here. "They are not rocks" The lady tells me "more a kind of red clay"
When the colors fade
Painting in the sun is so much different from in the early morning fog, not only what I am looking at but also the way the colors blend, and the way the paper react to them
Walking and sketching
It feels like I have sand in my eyes, from the strong sun. Time to sleep... It is 2012 - it is 2020... Still walking and painting.
Homes along the way
House by the trail. I look at the windows, the garden, someone living in each house along the way, with their hopes, worries and stories I will never know
Looking at nothing
Thirsty, maybe hungry I sit down in the sand. Looking back at my heavy footsteps, not even taking the backpack of. With a bit of effort I can reach my water bottle on the side.
Through the trees
I watched the sea through the pines. Maybe if I just sat down a few minutes I could sketch it up and still hike the 6 hours I'd planned before it got dark
Old defence tower Bornholm
Stopping, I could see the old castell of the town - the only thing of a great defence plan that was ever build
Fallen trees along coast trail
Walking past them can be hard, sometimes I have to go out into the water, making my way around, while they tell their stories
Roenne – Bornholm
Getting out of the warm ferry and into the largest, still small town of the island, I know most places from back 30 years when I walked around the streets painting watercolors here, for the first time
Bornholm Ferry
I heard the voice so many times - telling us aboard the ferry, that soon we will reach our destination... It was time to get up from the floor underneath the tables, pack down the sleeping pad and bag. And put my backpack on again...
The strange reality of large roads
While walking I could hear it from a long distance - the highway, I knew there were a footbridge, so I could get over
Still on a hike
He looked like he had come home, but still not really ready for it. Still wearing his backpack, like he was still out of the city
Two hiking Moen island sketches
Walking along trails on a small island with tall white cliffs facing the Baltic Sea
Those closest to the problems can be the best to help solve them
Challenges from pollution, to habitat loss, to hunger, to climate change might have at least one thing in common - Those closest to them can play essential roles in solving them
Jumping the motivation gap
What is it that makes us take the first steps?
Dealing with expectations when hiking
Expectations comes in many forms - some of them are our own, in our backpack - other expectations are from those around us
Path away from it all or towards a better place
What we focus on seems to me to define us more than we realize, no matter if we walk away from it or towards it.
The challenge of being the edge
Thoughts on innovation, hiking and being first movers
Hiking between high and low habits
Habits are a bit like places... or maybe we can also see them as trails? Notes on habits, recovery and paths
Hiking along a rising sea
One of the strongest lines of defense against rising sea levels and climate change can be coastal trails on dykes
Learning to live with less
We humans put a great pressure on Earth, if we had to carry all our stuff, our impact on the planet would most likely be much smaller