*Friluftsliv; a handy word meaning open-air living, capturing the Scandinavian approach to living life in harmony in nature.

Its Good Friday and I am sitting next to a campfire in a secluded bay amongst the archipelago of islands off the south-east coast of Norway.  Heldrig, the wooden boat we sailed here on, is moored up, Annita is reading, Sigurd is fishing and Adrian and I are cooking tea while listening to the bird life, our only neighbours in this stunning setting. I feel completely calm, happy and at one with the landscape around me.  I have come to Norway, as part of a Churchill Fellowship to learn more about ‘friluftsliv’ and what we can learn from this Norwegian concept, to enable our older generation to spend more time in nature.  If I wanted to experience friluftsliv for myself, this surely is it.  But what is it, and what can we learn from it?

The term friluftsliv literally translates as free air life, or open-air living and is used to encompass time spent outdoors in harmony with nature. In my discussions with Norwegians about friluftsliv, many referred to hiking, skiing and camping, but hinted at more than activities, but a philosophy or way of life.  As a word, friluftsliv first appeared in print in a poem by playwright Henrik Ibsen in the 1850s, but as a concept it predates this by hundreds of years.  In this country of mountains, coast and fjords, Norwegians have always lived closely with nature, and you can find many descriptions of the transformative power of nature within the Viking epic poems.  The use and meaning of friluftsliv grew in the nineteenth and early twentieth century as it became closely attached to a sense of national culture at a time when Norway was carving an identity for itself as an independent nation, separate from Danish and Swedish control. In his poem Paa Vidderne, Ibsen writes, ‘friluftsliv for mine tanker’, (‘friluftsliv for my thoughts’) and is describing the spiritual freedom of being in the mountains.  Further writing suggests the hard-to-define concept of friluftsliv is of nature as a liberating homeland for all people to find peace and themselves.  For myself, leaving behind ‘civilisation’ for days in close contact with nature, helps me feel in touch with this sense of freedom and self.

The boat we have sailed on is admired wherever we go.  Amongst the fancy yachts and motorboats, this wooden craft turns heads and brings many sailors over for a chat.  It is in the style of an ‘Åfjordsbåt’, a nineteenth century fishing boat from the Trøndelag region.  They may well admire, because from its wooden hull to the six-metre mast, this boat was carved and built entirely by young students of Fosen Folkehøgskole, one of Norway’s ‘folk high schools’ teaching traditional skills such as sailing, building or traditional crafts. Annita stitched Hildrig’s sails herself and knows the boat inside out.  She and Sigurd, both in their early twenties, are already expert sailors and patiently try to teach Adrian and I how to steer, read the wind and to get out of the way quickly when the sail needs to come down, (listen for the shout of ‘Ta i hop’!).  They are passionate about the boat and how it is sailed, having been part of the team that built it.  Back in the 1970’s, Jon Bojer Godal, the head of the school had discovered an original Åfjordsbåt in a museum, and sought out old sailors, by then living in nursing homes, to glean knowledge about how to sail them.  It is this knowledge that is being kept alive through the practical education and self-led adventures of young people.

I have the privilege of experiencing this memorable trip as Annita is the daughter of my friend Adrian, and he has come to visit her in Norway for the Easter weekend.  We were away for four days and in that time sailed to different islands, stopping off where we wanted to picnic, swim or camp.  We did not need to seek permission, nor pay campsite fees, even where facilities had been provided for campers. There were no signs keeping us out of certain areas nor was a licence required to fish, although there was an understanding of the rules around both.  Friluftsliv has its own law, Friluftsloven, which also includes the famous right to roam or allemannsretten, which protects by law the right to access nature.  I asked Sigurd about the campfire, as I had seen on the news that there is a fire ban between April and September.  He told me that was only where there is a danger of setting fire to the forest.  You can have one if the risk is low, you can control it and you are responsible for putting it out.  The difference in the UK approach is stark; here in Norway you are trusted to do the right thing, to make good choices and manage things safely.  I have heard many people in the UK argue that we need tighter rules to prevent the public damaging our natural spaces, using the extensive littering and damage to nature spaces after Covid rules were lifted as examples of how people don’t know how to behave.  But it seems to me that it is the fact that British people have less access to the landscape, that people don’t necessarily grow up experiencing nature-based activities, that contributes to that lack of respect.  In Norway, where people grow up with friluftsliv, it is assumed that you will behave responsibly, and as a result, people generally do.

Friluftsliv implies an ideal, but is everything perfect in the land of friluftsliv?   I spoke to Helga Synnevåg Løvoll, Professor of Friluftsliv at Volda University College.  She had concerns about how friluftsliv is expressed at a time of so many pressures on nature.  She described how friluftsliv is a cultural mindset, integrated into the Norwegian way of living, but that it can be exploited in an increasingly wealthy society.  She advocates for people to understand about nature in an empathetic way, but unfortunately sees people behaving individualistically, interpreting friluftsliv as the right to do what you want, where you want.  At outdoor shops, in Norway and the UK, it is apparent how a concept is becoming increasingly commodified.  Behind the till at Fjallraven in Oslo, a sign reads ‘Lets inspire the world to walk with nature’.  The nature experience is being harnessed as a tool to sell more expensive rucksacks and state of the art waterproofs.  At the extreme end of the scale, the Norwegian landscape has seen unprecedented increase in the building of cabins, which often now take the form of luxury lodges, rather than simple buildings in which to escape and commune with nature.  In conversations with Helga Løvoll from Volda University and Helen Adamson from Den Norske Turistforening (the national trekking organisation), both mentioned concerns about unequal access in an increasingly diverse society where not everyone has their own cabin or can cross country ski.  Nordic states have a more egalitarian society than the UK, but nonetheless, the difference between rich and poor is getting wider and this can be seen in the spread of luxury cabins across the countryside, many as second or even third homes.

For friluftsliv to be preserved, it needs to be understood and enabled, such as through the experiential education of young people and increasing access to transformative, adventurous experiences.  It needs to pay its dues to the traditions and knowledge of the past through our older generations who have grown up with a greater connection with nature. Of all the descriptions of friluftsliv, the one that resonates the most with me is that of a finding a way back to ourselves.  If spending time in nature is the way for us to feel at one with nature and ourselves, then we must work at preserving the practical and spiritual nature of nature experiences, as everyone deserves to be able to find their way home.

Header photo:  Adrian Bebb.  With thanks to Adrian, Annita and Sigurd for the magical sailing trip