A Winter Walk on the Marsh

Have you ever walked across an open marsh? If you have, you know the feeling. And if you haven’t, it’s hard to explain properly—but I’ll try. A marsh (bog/peatland/mire) feels like a world of its own, loosely connected to our everyday reality, as if it exists slightly outside normal time. That is exactly why stepping onto it is so liberating. For a while, you leave the ordinary world behind and enter something quieter, slower, and strangely comforting.

On a clear winter day the marsh is the most astonishing place to visit.

There is a marsh I return to again and again with my camera. Every season gives it a new personality, and that is part of its quiet magic. On January 1st, 2026, it revealed one of its most subtle and beautiful faces.

There were only a few centimeters of snow. The ground, usually wet and soft, was frozen solid. Where you would normally have to watch every step, you could now walk freely. The thin layer of snow covered the mosses, grasses, and low shrubs, turning everything white. Even the small, scattered pines carried snow on their branches. It felt like stepping into a world that had been freshly washed—bright, clean, and calm.

I parked my car very close to the marsh.

I just had to cross the icy main road and go through a few meters of forest before stepping onto the marsh.

In January, the sun never climbs high above the horizon here. It’s casting long shadows and a soft, silvery light across the landscape. That day, the light transformed the marsh into something almost unreal. The snow didn’t just reflect light—it shimmered.

It was cold, no doubt about that. But I was dressed well, and in fact I was a bit too warm. I kept moving almost constantly, stopping only to frame another composition or adjust my camera. My camera worked hard and I came home with countless images—small variations of the same place, yet each with its own mood, its own balance of light and form.

The sun at its peak, barely rising above the horizon, but still giving light for a few hours.

The pines on the mire never grow tall. Two or three meters is usually the limit, and they are rarely straight. Wind, poor soil, and harsh conditions shape them into twisted, crooked forms. In winter, with snow resting on their branches and no movement in the air, they look like silent beings standing watch. Not threatening—just present. Patient. As if they have seen countless winters come and go and see no reason to hurry.

Walking there, surrounded by silence and light, I felt a deep sense of calm. The marsh doesn’t try to impress you. It doesn’t demand anything. It simply exists, and if you allow it, it pulls you into its rhythm. Time slows down. Thoughts become fewer. Your senses sharpen.

Different parts of the marsh look very different. Next to the open marsh is an area with short pine trees and behind them is a small hill with forest.

Between the short trees is a path to the bigger open marsh.

I never grow tired of taking photos of these snowy trees. The sunlight swept gently over the landscape from a low angle.

This is why I keep returning to places like this—and why I photograph them. Not to document them in a scientific way, but to bring back a fragment of that feeling. The quiet, the light, the sense of stepping into another world for a while.

If you ever get the chance to walk on an open mire—especially in winter—take it. Dress warmly, move slowly, and let the landscape do the rest. You might find, as I do every time, that you return home lighter than when you left.

I walked through a loose forest between different parts of the marsh.

The largest open part of the marsh is impressive. Very few trees grow here. I wonder how long the tall one has been dead.

Smooth snowy parts means frozen pools. The ice was thick and it was easy to walk anywhere on the marsh.

The crooked pine trees are like strange silent creatures.

The natural art installation of a dead tree.

My last picture of the day turned out to become my personal favourite. Which one is yours?

A beautiful winter landscape can decorate your wall. Go to my website to see more pictures. And if you want any of these on your wall, please let me know and I'll fix it in any size you wish.

Ove

Nordland Aurora

More Nordic landscape photos here