Background

Levi Mikkelsen was born in Aarhus, Denmark. Born to a Danish father and a Canadian mother who had come to the city for university and never found a reason to leave. His childhood was unremarkable in the way most children’s lives are. Levi spent most of his time at school during the week and venturing through the forests at the back of his house on evenings. His sister dared often to tag along, yet he didn’t object. He rather poked holes in her plans, warn her about certain things. Not because he wanted to scare her off but because he needs to be sure she understands and does things he expects - leaving no room for surprise. Once she joined Levi more frequently, he became more quiet with an overbearing protectiveness. Over-preparing, double-checking everything and taking on risks himself rather than let her near them. Weekends weren’t spared from her intrusion, showing up at the mall with his friends to tag along. A violation of his sanctuary and his safe space which caused him to become curt and irritable during these occasions - balancing out their closeness as siblings. Their parents love was presumed but they were largely distant people. Their father was quiet and emotionally reserved and their mother was practical and restless. Levi learned early that affection was something that was a “assumed” rather than received outright. And for that reason he became observant, attentive to tone and routine and good at reading rooms before feet crossed the threshold. As he grew older Levi developed a habit of self containment. He did well in school not because he was driven, but because he couldn’t take the feeling of instability at home. To guess whether his parents were upset, angry or disappointed. Good results guaranteed stability and left no room for guessing. And when things became “different” whether it was arguments between his parents or friends drifting apart, Levi withdrew rather than engaged. It wasn’t fear so much as it was discomfort. He didn’t know how to fix people, and he hated feeling responsible for things he couldn’t control. By his teenage years he was already better at leaving situations than resolving them. When his parents separated after his sixteenth birthday, the divorce came abrupt and neutral. His mother was returning to British Columbia, which had always been her backup plan. He and his sister went with her but for Levi it wasn’t because he wanted to but because his father never asked them to stay. Canada unexpectedly suited him. The space from his father helped and the peace and quiet helped more. He took a summer job in trail maintenance and found himself folding naturally into seasonal forestry work. It was purposeful and yet most of all peaceful. After his stint of temporary work, he took up his first permanent job - a wildfire lookout. His training taught him reading maps, first aid and self sufficiency in the event of delayed supplies. Long stretches alone in towers where the world made sense but became a wedge of distance between him and his remaining family. By his early twenties Levi had settled into firewatch contracts across western Canada. He kept logs obsessively - not just weather and smoke but sounds, patterns and radio interference. Anything that felt out of place. He didn’t believe these details meant anything but writing them down made him feel in control. Which even if it was an illusion - it was comforting. In 1992 while stationed near the U.S. Canada border, Levi began hearing strange reports filtering through radio. He didn’t believe the stories, but he recorded them anyway. Around the same time, his mother who was living in Ontario had fallen ill. A reminder that time still passed without his attention yet instead of visiting, he took another year contract. He didn’t do well with uncertainties and he wasn’t prepared to say goodbye unless he knew it was for real. In early March of 1993, his mother had been referred to a specialist clinic in New York City. She pleaded for him to visit, to see her and his sister whom he’d largely distant to. And he obliged. However to get there, he covered the guilt of not seeing her with a purchase. Uncharacteristically indulgent as it was. Instead of flying, he travelled down to California, buying an economy ticket on the Silver Meridian. It was charged to a credit card he promised himself he’d deal with later. Though the appeal wasn’t comfort or status. It was time. A long trail, sightseeing and time to process his life and where he wanted to be and what really mattered.