The Project 2016-2026

The Story of the First Decade

05/06/2026

It is certainly not time for conclusions. Besides, I have never had much patience for assessments—whether they come in the form of numbers or life lessons.

The Project is exactly what its name suggests: a project. A journey. A way of life. A vision. A philosophy. It has never remained the same, yet it has always revolved around a number of essential and immovable centres of gravity. At its heart are also my dogs – my Siberian Huskies. Without them, The Project would almost certainly never existed. Over the course of these ten years, the dogs that have accompanied me through my daily and cold journeys have become twelve. Within them live the many seasons of my own life, and in their eyes I can still see the echoes of the different versions of myself that have walked this path.

The Project began with Indi and Ciuk as an exploration of the intimate and personal relationship between myself and nature. Over time, that exploration expanded, almost as if it was moving along with forces greater than my own. What had started as an inward investigation gradually became a broader reflection. The human being, understood as an ecological being, took centre stage in my research as I sought to understand why our lives have fallen so profoundly out of balance with Mother Earth.

It was with Indi that I first began walking through mountains and valleys, sleeping in a tent and slowly learning to understand dogs—their nature, their temperament and their silence. The scooter was one of the first tools that allowed us to run together.

Then Ciuk arrived, and the sled opened the door to the world of mushing. Winter was becoming something more than a season for us. It was becoming home.

As the years passed, The Project evolved around a series of questions.

Why is humanity at odds with Nature?

Why has it become estranged from it?

What are the roots of this imbalance?

The answer I arrived at was civilization itself. Not a definitive answer, certainly. It opens the door to countless further questions. Yet I believe it represents a fundamental starting point: the rise of Civilization marks the beginning—the alpha—of humanity’s crisis.

Then came Adi and Tulku, along with the first winter expeditions across the Alps. Those journeys led me to another realization. Today’s mountains have largely lost their natural and cultural integrity. Their relationship with both land and people who once belonged to it has been profoundly altered. Everything is increasingly shaped by consumerist and tourist-driven dynamics. Mountains cease to be places in their own right and become little more than backdrops for an endless range of human activities. The balance has not merely been compromised; in many cases it seems beyond recovery.

Awareness remains low, and the divide between two increasingly distinct visions of humanity becomes more evident with every passing year.

To many people—whether critics or simply observers—my reflections appear utopian or ideological. I see them differently. I see them as radical and realistic. A punch to the stomach reminding us that it is time to wake up.

With Tayen and Dolly, the Arctic entered our lives and confronted us with its uncompromising reality. Then came Den, Askan and Vittra. Together with the rest of the team, they helped crystallize the exploratory path of The Project and revealed how its lifeblood could be found in living farther North. Vittra, my first dog born on Swedish soil, sealed our bond with this part of the world beyond the 60th parallel.

The Northern lands opened a new chapter.

In some respects, The Project became more radical in its ideals and convictions. At the same time, it broadened its horizons, incorporating spiritual, philosophical, artistic and anthropological perspectives that deepened its meaning. It was from this same impulse that the Jaranga Cultural Association was born—a community built around shared values, shared intentions and the desire to communicate, create and contribute. A natural extension of the principles that have always guided The Project.

Along the way, I left many things behind. Not without disappointment. Not without bitterness.

The more firmly I stood by my convictions, the farther I drifted from the Italian sled dog world of which I had once been a part. For years I watched it becoming increasingly stagnant, self-referential and obsessed with its own image—a world in which dogs were too often treated as instruments for feeding personal ego, chasing recognition, pursuing empty fame or cultivating appearances. Dogs frequently become secondary to performance. In some cases, they are discarded and replaced simply because they are not performing well enough. There are still a few Italian mushers whom I deeply respect and from whom I have learned a great deal. Those friendships remain important to me. Yet they increasingly stand apart from what has become the official circus.

Others, meanwhile, entered our lives unexpectedly, sharing ideas, passions and experiences that enriched our journey.

Then Kaufiaq arrived. His character revealed itself early. As he grew, he chose to learn how to lead the team. Somehow, he speaks to me.

The winters spent in Sweden gradually became an essential part of carrying The Project forward; with each passing year, we stayed longer: The Way, Inspire, and this most recent long winter spent preparing the next expedition were all lived according to the same ideals and principles.

What began as an intuition has now become a conviction etched into my mind, carried in my spirit and written into my cells: if we are ever to restore our balance with nature, we must begin imagining ourselves beyond civilization and work toward dismantling the foundations upon which Civilization—and its technological-industrial society—have been built. This is perhaps the most powerful message contained within The Project. It is also the most difficult to communicate. And undoubtedly the hardest to accept.

The Project continues to grow, change and evolve. With each passing year it resembles more and more a living creature—one for which I feel a deep affection. It has grown as I have grown. It has grown as my dogs have grown.

And now, with Áile and Orion joining the team, we move together toward a new chapter of this story in the North.

There can be no final reckoning for The Project.

Because The Project was never meant to come to an end.

And it never will.

Fra Indi