The Axe and Survival

Tobias grew up in southern Sápmi, surrounded by mountains and forests, where nature became a part of his life and heart. He dreams that more people will experience this closeness to the primal and believes that we need to return to what truly matters – feeling the wind on our skin, the scent of the forest, and the stillness of nature. As an educator, nature guide, and survival instructor, he is passionate about sharing his knowledge of traditional crafts and cooking, and showing the way to a life in harmony with nature. Here is his story about the axe and survival.

The first axe

Born and raised in the forests and mountains of southern Lapland, I spent a lot of time outdoors. The feeling I have out in the taiga is best described as a sense of being truly alive, and no matter the reason for the outing, a small axe always accompanied me. The connection between living with nature and having an axe close by created a strong bond and fascination for me.

In middle school woodshop, we made various practical items, and I chose to make two axes. The axes were nothing more than a piece of cut and hardened steel sharpened decently and welded to the eye. The handles received as much care as I could give, and my 13-year-old self was very proud. With sober, adult eyes, I can easily see that the axes were, and still are, quite ugly. But they worked very well nonetheless. One of them became a Christmas gift for my father, and the other followed me in my backpack for many years.

The grief in the taiga

My little axe came along on the canoe trip that my friends and I took with the goal of paddling about 100 kilometers in the great adventure of exploring Långseleån. As usual, things went brilliantly: the weather was fine, and the water was warm for mountain water. We were so focused on the task that we forgot to eat and rest, so when we reached a waterfall that our navigator had missed, we were all quite tired. The water was shallow but very fast-flowing, and we struggled to get the canoes ashore. Finally, my canoe filled with water, and we realized the problem we faced. We dragged, pushed, and shoved the canoes to the nearest road where we were picked up. The adventure was over, and my phone and my axe had ended up in the river. I never found the axe again, and this can best be described as the first grief I experienced in the taiga.

Life’s not only about survival

Many forests and mountains later, I have made traditional knowledge and survival my profession. As an instructor for the Swedish Survival Society, you have to go through several trials, the last and greatest of which is “The Trek.” For my group and me, it was six days in the taiga during midsummer with only the food we could find and walks of about 10 kilometers per day. The gear consisted of a knife, fire steel, an extra pair of socks, rain gear, a warm garment, a mosquito net, and first aid.

All training with the Survival Society is without an axe for safety reasons, which is very understandable considering the physical and mental exhaustion, and the inability to assess the person’s knowledge and experience with an axe. It became very clear to me during “The Trek” what distinguishes living from surviving. It can quickly turn from living to surviving, but turning survival back into living is not possible without the axe.

The initial fascination has been replaced by a love for the tool and what I can create with it. The possibility of living out there, in the middle of life.

Follow Tobias at Instagram: @vildmarkshjarta
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