Norefjell

This project documents my journey of returning to the cabin after not having visited it for 12 years, following the death of my father. The faint memories I made at Norefjell as a child became vivid as I retrace my steps towards the cabin, rediscovering this beautiful yet nostalgic place. The first thing that struck me as I climbed the makeshift wooden stairs and followed the path up to the cabin was the instant memory of the air that surrounded me, the musky and earthy smell of the summer grass was so surprisingly familiar. These memories, so many that I didn’t even know that I had, continue to come back to me with the more time I spend at Norefjell. I remember picking berries on the moor behind the cabin as the flies buzz in my ears, or building a treehouse with my brother, or looking for damp mossy areas to catch the most frogs. Still, even though 12 years have passed since our family holidays there, everything about the cabin feels the same. As if the passage of time doesn’t have any effect on this little family sanctuary, only the seasons seem to change around it. Although it will never be the same as when I was younger, being able to sit and read through the stacks of books and pictures that my family have kept documenting life at Norefjell from 1967 until now, lets me hear all about the stories that my father can never tell me.