The road to Konya, after the rain
A muleteer's almanac, recovered from a coffeehouse. He counted miles in the colour of dust.
Field journalVolume IV · Folio 27 · A field journal in revival
We retrace the footsteps of merchants, monks and reluctant cartographers — collecting what remains of cities the maps have already forgotten. Read the dispatches; trace the routes; carry a small piece of the past forward.
Twelve hundred dispatches. A few of them, true.
A muleteer's almanac, recovered from a coffeehouse. He counted miles in the colour of dust.
Field journalThree porters, two theodolites, and a question about ice that nobody could answer in daylight.
ExpeditionLimestone, freshwater, and a length of rope that ran out before the bottom did. We returned the next year.
SurveyForty-two fountains catalogued in summer; thirty-one of them still ran. Notes on the missing eleven.
InventoryWool, peat smoke and a paraffin lamp. The shortest postcard runs 23 words; the longest runs 4,400.
CorrespondenceEighty recipes, seven entirely indecipherable. The cooks went home in February and never came back.
ManuscriptRoutes you can follow on foot, by ferry, or in your reading chair.
Tracing five extinct languages across the inland sea. Train, ferry, donkey. No flights, no haste.
A coastal expedition aboard the post-boat, recording the names of fjords whose pronunciations have drifted in the last century.
Where mulberry pulp first met the steppe. A walking tour through workshops still firing kilns by lunar calendar.
The old courier route, reopened by handshake every February. Rice straw boots strongly suggested.
A century-and-a-half of small, careful work.
Founded above a bookshop on Lamb's Conduit Street. Eleven members; one rule — never publish hastily.
A pair of cartographers reach Halifax with sixty pounds of survey paper and a marriage proposal in pencil.
Six months across the western Sahara; the first photographs of cities the dunes have since reclaimed.
12,400 pages of correspondence committed to film. A separate copy travels each summer to Reykjavík.
The full catalogue, finally searchable. Users may still request the smell of the paper by post.
Membership exceeds 4,000 worldwide. The kettle, in the upper office, has not changed.
One folio every full moon. Paper if you wish.
We send a single letter each lunar month — fieldwork, an excerpt from the archive, and a small map. It arrives without urgency. You will not be sold to.