Lachesis Lapponica; Or, A Tour in Lapland, Volume 2 — A Reader’s Guide

Climbing and Descending: The Body in the Landscape

Linnaeus's account of the Norwegian mountains is visceral. He notes that the height 'cannot be taken by any geometrical instrument,' because the summit is invisible even from a few miles away. His estimate—exceeding a Swedish mile—is a guess born of exertion. The climb was 'worse than going two miles any other way.' Water was abundant, but without it they would have been overcome. The transition from sweat to frozen clothes is a single sentence that captures the alpine extremes. In the same passage, he records finding Astragalus alpinus and Gentiana nivalis, tucking precise botanical notes into the midst of physical ordeal.

Reindeer and the Oestrus Fly

At a Laplander's hut, Linnaeus observes reindeer whose horns are 'not above half an inch long,' damaged by the Brom-fly (Oestrus Tarandi). He compares these insects to 'the gnats of Swedish Lapland,' a typical cross-reference that links local phenomena to familiar benchmarks. He also records a 'curious piece of information' about castrating reindeer, though the excerpt cuts off. The passage shows his method: a single detail—horn length—leads to a chain of ecological and ethnographic observation, all noted without embellishment.

Fishing, Sealing, and a Potential New Crop

Near Tornea, Linnaeus describes how fishermen catch Salmo Lavaretus by wading naked into cascades with a net on a pole, sometimes secured by a rope held by a friend. The seal nets are made of cord 'as thick as a goose-quill,' with meshes two spans wide. These technical descriptions are precise and functional. Then, on a sand-hill, he finds a grass with blue leaves, Elymus arenarius, and speculates whether it could be cultivated as a grain on sandy soils, noting its perennial roots would save annual sowing. This blend of practical agriculture and botany is characteristic of his economic eye.

Natural Compasses and Local Wisdom

Linnaeus lists four natural objects that Laplanders use as compasses: pine trees with more branches on the south, ant-hills with grass on the south and whortleberries on the north, aspen bark rough on the north side, and old pines with black lichen on the north. He also records that in the Tornea alps, cold comes with a south wind and mild weather from the north, because of the sea. These observations are presented as facts, not folklore, and they reveal his respect for indigenous knowledge as a form of natural history.

Readers approaching this volume should expect a journal that moves quickly between physical ordeal, precise natural history, and ethnographic detail. Linnaeus rarely pauses to reflect; he records what he sees, what he learns, and what he wonders about—such as whether a grass could become a crop. The editorial notes by James Edward Smith, added in 1811, occasionally clarify Linnaeus's later identifications, but the core is the raw, unpolished field notes of a young naturalist in a landscape that constantly tested him.

Reading Linnaeus’s patient notes on reindeer lichen, I remembered a grey afternoon in Maine, my paddle still, watching a moose wade into the same cold water Thoreau once described. That quiet recognition—landscape as a shared text—is what Canoeing in the wilderness — Inside the Classic reawakened, a familiar ache for places where observation feels like companionship, not conquest.