Igloo: A House of Snow and Ice
March 2026 Project
Igloo: A House of Snow and Ice
Wild living and a writing residency in the heart of the tundra
Two Journeys
This text introduces an adventure that will begin in less than two months. I have come to believe that there are always two journeys. The one we dream of, imagine, write and reflect upon. And the one we truly live — with our feet, our hands, our breath, our soul.
The challenge is to bring these two journeys together until they become one, like two lovers slowly discovering each other.
Reaching the Great Lake
It will take several days on skis to reach the vast high-altitude lake, entirely sealed beneath ice. There, north of the Arctic Circle in the Lapland tundra — far from any village, track or cabin — I will establish my home for one month.
Solitude. Silence. Snow. Wind. Sun.
A temporary dwelling of snow and ice, inspired by the Arctic peoples: the igloo.
Surviving for a Month
For a full month, I will attempt to survive, hoping to experience — however modestly — something of what the Indigenous peoples of the Arctic endured in these frozen deserts: far from forests, exposed to blizzards and extreme cold, sustained by the most fragile sources of warmth.
To feel is to attend to detail: the shifting colours of the landscape, the scent of snow, the scales of a living fish, the sudden tension in the line. In silence, everything becomes nourishment for the mind.
Breath and Warmth
Breath and mental discipline will be vital. Body heat is the first and most essential tool of survival. I will need to protect it, conserve it, cultivate it — as the mammals of the Far North do instinctively.
Depending on the Lake
For sustenance, I will rely entirely on the lake: water to drink, fish as my sole source of food. I must learn its rhythms, understand where life moves beneath the thick ice, and adapt to its hidden patterns.
Continuing a Lifelong Commitment
This journey forms part of a commitment I have pursued for more than twelve years: to bind myself to the wild through total immersion, and to share what that immersion reveals.
Learning to Relearn
This is not an expedition in search of achievement. It is, above all, an attempt to feel and to be within landscapes of immense beauty and vastness.
The true purpose of this adventure is simple: to learn to relearn the wild world — as a child would — through experience, through mistakes, through presence.
The igloo will become my place of writing, contemplation and solitude. Through writing, I will bear witness to this experience — giving words to untamed beauty and sharing the quiet intimacy of daily life in the Arctic wilderness.
Equipment
In my sled, I will carry wool and fur garments — some sewn or purchased, others inherited from earlier journeys among reindeer herders in Siberia.
For sleep: reindeer hides laid as a mattress, wool blankets for warmth. The remainder of my equipment will be simple and essential: axe, knives, ice pick, wooden snow shovels, fishing gear, and eight kilograms of reindeer meat — enough to sustain the first eight to ten days.
Writing to Share
Carefully wrapped and protected from moisture, my journals will travel with me, along with the works of ethnographer Paul-Émile Victor — invaluable accounts of the lives and knowledge of the Inuit of Greenland. His writings will guide and inspire me as I seek to survive in these landscapes of snow and ice, where the sky feels immense and commanding, and humankind appears wonderfully small within the infinite cosmos.
