LAND 28 Dawn at Vestermarie. I walked slowly around the church’s graveyard, rubbing my eyes and preparing mentally and physically for the day ahead. Three hares, unused to such an early visitor, looked at me with surprise before gambolling off along the immaculately maintained paths. I tried to capture the salmon-pink light from the rising sun hitting the top of the distant cumulus clouds.
The church was built in 1885, replacing the original church dating from at least the 1300s. In the graveyard stood six runic stones, with a short description of their provenance. Some had been rediscovered during the building of the new church, and others had been found in nearby farms. They dated from the 11th century or so, just as Christianity’s arrived on the island, and all were written in the old runic script of the Vikings. I made some quick drawings, noting the similarity between the cross on one of the stones and the cross above the smart new door of the church.
I walked on to a small wood on the edge of the village – a trip made hundreds of times when I lived here. It felt very familiar but different. Old benches had rotted away, replaced by new ones. The old camp that my kids had used was being consumed by the forest. I continued walked along a narrow bridle path that snaked along the edge of fields towards Almindingen, the central forest.
In the forest again, I walked along my old running route, reminiscing about times gone past. By the old running club, I stopped and painted a pair of six-spot burnet moths – obliging models that thankfully sat still, gazing into each other’s eyes, for a long while.
I left the clubhouse, walked past the shooting club, and ambled along the new mountain bike paths snaking through the forest, pausing by one of the forest shelters for lunch. People jogging, cycling and dog walking – the whole area was a mecca for recreation. The weather was fantastic but artistically I felt somewhat insipid and uninspired. I forced myself instead to enjoy the walk.
I tried to capture the light shining through the plantation. I vowed to myself to stop painting trees for a while.
Despite all the recreational activities, the forest is large enough with many paths and I saw very few people. I stopped for a snooze in a sunlit glade by the side of a small lake, drifting off to the sound of the wind in the trees and the distant mewing of a buzzard. Later I stopped by one of the many piles of timber, drinking in the intoxicating scent of pine and warm sunlight.
The NATO radar station loomed rather ominously from behind the trees.
I trudged on, annoyed with myself for not producing more, but glad to be in the forest. Eventually I reached the island’s highest point, Rytterknægten, where the observation tower was unfortunately closed for restoration.
Somehow time was running out and I rushed a little to get to the end point in time.
My last painting was near Christianshøj, where some of Bornholm’s oldest trees can be found. At last I felt as if my painting was flowing, but the sun was setting and the day was over.
LAND 28
WEATHER REPORT – overcast then mostly sunny. Temperature 17 – 19 degrees. Wind 4 – 6 m/s, from the W. Hours of precipitation: 0 hours. Hours of sunshine: 10 hours.
STOPS with the BIVVY – 0
KILOMETRES WALKED – 16.50 km
DAY LASTED – 17h and 00 m
PEOPLE TALKED TO – 4
BIRDS SEEN and HEARD – 42 species: 0 new = 123 species
LESSONS LEARNED – I didn’t print a map as I knew the paths so well, but I ended up walking over a previous path (LAND 27) which really annoyed me. Next time, bring a map!
IN MY HEAD – The Fanø trip, family visitors and plans, the bathroom and bedroom renovations, preparations for next week’s højskole teaching, citizenship paperwork, tax self-assessment, KYST books reprint and send out, party trip to UK, why I didn’t feel like painting – also thinking of times past in the forest.
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