Kevin Jarvis

I flew freight across the Pacific for twenty years — 747s and MD-11s out of Anchorage, often on the same aircraft as my father. I set out following his footprints and ended up flying beside him. Once, the whole way around the world.

A shattered sacrum in Taipei ended it in 1999.

I went to the ground instead. Two years of naturalist training, and a wolf camp in the Frank Church Wilderness writing tracking software off a car battery. Then four Sun Dances in the Black Hills, and an apprenticeship with a Lakota elder whose instruction was to build on bedrock rather than sand. Then twenty-five acres on Lake Siljan in Dalarna, and a doctorate in eco-psychology and the fifty-four senses.

In 2022 I moved to a Saxon village in the Transylvanian hills, to a house built in 1907.

The photographs are the same eye either way. Permaculture teaches three things — earth care, people care, fair share — but mostly it teaches you to look at a place long enough to see what it is already doing. These are two countries looked at that way.