Southern Sweden - One man and his Merc

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Well I'm glad I packed my laptop, not entirely sure what I'd be doing at this point otherwise. I’m in the passenger seat, with a paper cup of rose and a dim light above me and I feel like blogging this weekend.

...I just wrote two pages and managed to delete the lot. I'm a bit pissed off about that to be honest, but as I've little else to do I guess I may as well do it again...

When I first found out I may be heading over to Sweden and was asked what I planned to do over there on my own I replied, somewhat off the cuff, "I'll just hire a car and drive around the place, kipping in the car". I didn't give it much thought after that, aside from the odd re-iteration of this idea after a few beers.

Monday came around this week and I needed a plan for the weekend. I'd spent last weekend watching a beautiful sunset over a beer down at Malmo's Western Harbour and had enjoyed a great day taking in the sights of Copenhagen during a day trip to Denmark; I didn't want to waste this one. As Monday morning came around, as is par for the course with me my thoughts turned to the coming weekend. As I wandered through ideas in my mind, I stumbled into the idea I'd hatched back in the UK to spend the weekend in a hire car. I wasn't too taken with the idea to begin with, it seemed a little daunting I think; but I think that’s what ultimately drew me in.

Come Wednesday, whilst still undecided on what I planned to do, I began to get some quotes for hiring a car. The first quotes were far too expensive, £200+ for 2 days; far too much for me to take on on my own, I could do a lot with that amount of money (well, not too much in Scandinavia if I'm honest!). Later that day I found a good quote, £92 all in for Friday night to Monday morning. The car was tiny and powerless, but it was a car. I didn’t commit to this though and went on to make arrangements to meet some other UK grads that night for a pub quiz. I met many new people that evening, on placement in Malmo from the UK. Whilst it was an all round pleasant evening, one thing I took away was that, whilst enjoying drinks in an upmarket terrace bar, the best plan anyone had for the weekend was to watch a football match on Saturday then go out drinking. I didn't go to Sweden to do things I'd pass on at home, especially when for the cost of a night out, at £6-20 per beer, would cover an entire weekend of proper activities.

With that in mind, as I sat in work on Thursday morning, I retrieved my quote and booked the car. The car I booked was small, a 2 door Toyota Aygo city car, similar in size to a Smart Car. "Am I really going to be able to sleep in something the size of a shoebox?"

Friday evening came around and I left work for the short, convenient stroll to the rental office. Hiring the car from the basement office was nothing out of the ordinary, the usual language issues and odd gesturing to get forms signed and details transferred. What was slightly more unusual was when the clerk came to hand me the keys. He paused. In broken English he stammered "emmm, it, umm, upgrade?" He handed me a set of keys and I knew the sort immediately, in doing so he pointed up to the window, at floor level on the street outside, the tip of his finger painting a line right to the back end of a brand new Mercedes CL200 Estate, gleaming white in the afternoon sun. I hid my excitement as he took me up to the forecourt to hand the car over and I took the car.

I hadn't really been nervous about driving abroad as I've done it many times before, but this did raise the stakes a little. Off I went back to the hotel, eager to pack and be on my way. This took much longer than expected, as a graduation parade was occupying the streets surrounding my end of town and everything ground to a halt. The high school graduations over here are another story altogether...

So I'm changed, I've packed the kitchen sink and off I trot, loading up my flashy new toy and starting off out of the city. The traffic had eased slightly at this point, which was rather handy!

With my 13 page Google Maps printout and a laminated map from 1991 as my only guides, I made my way out of the city, aiming for the highway to make my way south east. Onto the A65 ring road before diving off onto Route 9, the first big stretch of the journey. In my Google Maps plan, I'd decided which towns I was going to visit, however trying to read a small printed sheet, whilst also focusing on driving on the wrong side, with different road rules and rights of way, in a car that worth more than all you've ever owned combined; well it's just not going to happen. Within the first thirty minutes my elaborate plan was out the electric window and I was winging it.

I considered stopping in a few towns, but each time I came across one that I recognised from suggestions of my team at work, I'd hit another patch of rain and stopping for more than a few moments just wasn't a great prospect. I stopped periodically anyway mind you, as I'd skipped dinner and the best thing I had to hand was a giant pack of Chilli and Chive crisps, which combined with two cans of Red Bull provided me a source of sustenance!

I drove into a town called Simrishamn, where I was to weave through the quiet, drizzly town and come out the other side back on the highway. This would have been nothing unusual, but as I joined the highway again, something was indeed different. The highway was made out of intricately paved, light coloured cobbles, arcing across the road, like perfect rainbows reaching out to each other. This road was a main highway, with I imagine often heavy traffic, but there wasn’t a crack or a rut in sight, it was perfectly maintained. This was a really nice touch; I’m really starting to like this country!

I didn't feel I'd been driving very long when I glanced to my right to see and extensive vista of open water; I'd reached the sea. I assumed it must be the south coast, as my plan for the night was to reach the east coast before dark and find somewhere to stay. A few hundred meters on I pulled into a picnic area to use the loo (good old Red Bull). I checked the map on the information board and to my utter amazement I was less than an hour’s drive away from where I was aiming to be in three hours time. This was partly down to having not stopped to see any towns, with their shops all closed and the rain pouring, but regardless of that, I was making great progress.

I stopped a little further down the road in a town called Kivic (Chivic) on recommendation from a guy at work and found a small road down to a beach. I pulled in and wandered down, it was nice, loads of birdsong in the trees and water lapping onto the shore, but it was cloudy and felt a little grim, so I took a few photos, gathered my thoughts and headed back to the car.

In double quick time I found myself once again parked up in the town from which I'd planned on finding somewhere to sleep for the night. My plan was to head a little north west, to a hilly nature reserve, and find a nice secluded spot to finish off the daylight and settle down. It was cold and muggy and the very idea of it sucked! I was back on track, but no longer following a plan, so I took to the map and looked for an interesting route to press on with. I spotted a road that would keep me close to the coast and would eventually meet up with the highway I needed. With a vague idea of how to get there, I hopped back onto the roads.

As I drove along, through the predominantly flat, green countryside, I slowed my pace to take in my surroundings a little more. To my left mist was rising from the trees towards the red evening sun, to my right, farmland was dotted with traditional wooden houses, church-like towards and old, postcard like brick domes. I don't yet know what they actually are. As I plodded along, I was suddenly struck by sunlight, from a break in the clouds to my left. The pines to my right were illuminated and my mood lifted somewhat; I at last felt more relaxed and ready to enjoy myself, whereas previously I'd been rather tense, wondering what I would actually do about sleeping in a car on my own, with no privacy to find comfort in, just big open windows. I pulled off the road by a patch of woodland and jumped out with my camera for a play. I took a few shots, I doubt any of them will be worth writing home about, but it was fun.

Further down this road, still milking the break in the clouds, I was the now familiar sign indicating a beach that you may bathe at. On a whim I pulled off down this single track road and, with my window down to grab some passing shots of the traditional houses and picturesque settings, slowly followed the signs towards the beach. In the car park, which was well signed to indicate 'no camping' sat a motor home, curtains down and lights on, settled in for the night. I threw on some extra layers, grabbed a hunk of dry bread out of the boot and chewed it down as I walked through the open woodland, along the creaky planked path towards what the signs assured me was the shore. Suddenly I heard a familiar and welcome sound, that of waves lapping onto the sandy beach.

The beach was lovely; I had no trouble picturing the place on a warm summer’s day, full of happy families and the chorus of children's playful shouting. This evening however, I was alone with the scene and the song that was looping in my head. I strolled along the shore, the sand flicking up from my toes and the clouds glowing at sea from the sun that was lowering further behind me.

Leaving this beach I felt much more chilled, strolling back to the car I wondered what lay ahead for the weekend. I was still debating what I was to do to get a night’s sleep, but by now I'd accepted that I'd just get on with it and see what happened.

Joining the main road I continued at a leisurely pace for some time, making the most of the sun and the scenery. As I emerged from a short spell of woodland, I realised that I'd lost the sun for the day and the next stop was night time. I picked up the pace until I reached the town that I'd planned as far as. A quick map stop and I was on my way again, aiming for a small peninsula with some tiny, barely discernable towns on it. I was sure I'd fine a quiet beachside road to get some sleep in.

Upon reaching the peninsula, it was actually much more populated than I thought, so I abandoned my original idea and aimed for the most insignificant looking place I could find. I arrived in Horvik at around 10pm, in the last dregs of daylight. The town is a handful of houses around a marina, with some nice yachts moored up in it. By the marina sat a couple of populated campervans, a good sign I thought. I ambled around the nearby roads for a short while, before settling on the idea of getting my head down in the marina, where others where spending the night. I pulled the car in by an old boat standing off to one end of the car park, tightly parking the passenger’s side in which I'd be sleeping, by the obstruction that I'm to call privacy this evening.

After something of a debacle trying to get the seats to recline, setting off 30 other motors in the process, I managed to get the seats down and try out my bed. It was remarkably comfy! I needed something to do for the remainder of the night and I got back to something which had crossed my mind earlier. I'll get my laptop out and start blogging the weekend. I poured myself a rose from the carton in the boot, the only drink of the evening thanks to the incredibly stringent drink-driving laws, and set about writing.

Its midnight now and from my north facing windscreen I can see daylight on the horizon. If I drive much further north it won't get dark all night. I'm thankful at this point that it is. Its bed time now anyway, I have a distinct feeling I'll be up with the birds in the morning, so had better get some shut eye. Time to set the seats back and settle down under my hotel bedding, my mind full of hope that the weather will be reasonable tomorrow.

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What an amazing day! And finally a real meal!

Well, after lying in the car for a good hour or so feeling somewhat uncomfortable with my situation, I eventually dozed off. My sleep was poor for the first few hours; I woke up at around 4am to be greeted with an amazing scene of daybreak. It had never gone entirely dark, but now the whole windscreen was awash with shades of fiery orange, accentuated by the varying densities of mist that had built up as I'd lay there. I spent some brief moments appreciating the sight, before getting back to the task at hand and trying to get my sleep in. I vaguely recall opening one eye at around 6ish to see the same scene, but in even more vivid hues.

What the hell is that noise?! At this point I'd clearly got myself comfortable, as the phone alarm I'd set for 8.15 was vibrating around and I was clearly in a really deep sleep. I wanted to roll over, but the sun was up and I knew I should be if I wanted any hope of sorting myself out before life sprang up all around me. I threw the bedding over to the back seat, righted my chair and sat in a daze for some time, my body still shaking slightly from its sudden awakening. The scene outside soon spurred me into action; a cloud free sky, the virgin sun beaming out over the sea and the promise of a day of proper adventure.

I hauled on my trainers and set about finding a legitimate place to drain my bladder. This took all of 2 seconds before I found a toilet and a shower; I promptly ran and grabbed my wash bag and sorted myself out like a civilised person. The car was sat in the shade as a result of me tucking myself away the previous evening, so I shifted around into the sun and pulled up by a picnic table. Breakfast was done properly, I sliced up several chunks of my loaf and had my daily dose of buttered bread with cheese and cooked meat. Unfortunately the only cooked meat I had to hand was eyelid-hotdog sausages, but I'll let that go!

So I'm up, dressed and eaten and I'm on my way back to the highway that will lead me onwards. I'd enjoyed winding my way aimlessly down small roads and through utterly random villages and decided I'd keep this up for a while; looking at the map there was promise for plenty great coastline and with the sun beaming as it was I couldn't see any reasons not to give it a go!

After a short stint on the E22 highway I was once again following signs towards a town I hadn't bothered figuring out how to pronounce, or even reading the name properly for that matter. As Karlshamn came into view I dipped into a lay-by with a tourist information board. The board had rip-off maps attached to it and as luck would have it, there was one lonely map hanging down waiting for me to collect it. I didn't know if I needed it, but having looked at both sides, I soon realised there was a lot more driving to be had than my huge scale freebie from the rental agency was aware of! I skipped through the town, aiming for a chunk of land that appeared to be holding onto the mainland the skin of its teeth. I was distracted by another great view before I got there and drove in a different direction, now following nothing more than the ever changing coastal scenery, flickering in and out of the trees to my right. As I passed by a campsite, the view opened up into a great glistening bay, fronted by a sandy shore. As I saw this view I also saw a parking area and within minutes I was kicking sand along the shore, camera in hand. I could hear the campsite buzzing with life in the background, but this bay was tranquil and idyllic. I ambled around, taking photos and considering whether or not to set off on a blind hike around the bays. My surroundings were telling me to explore further, but my goal of covering 1000km was telling me to press on, I might be missing something extra special while I'm walking around the same scene for hours. I located myself on the map, and slid away.

It wasn't long before I was parked up again. Another amazing bay, loads more photos to take and a really tempting diving board. Tempting until I tested the water. This site had facilities too which was handy, though I'd forgotten just how much I hate public long-drops. It was getting cloudy now and I was concerned for the well being of my enthusiasm; I pressed on hoping for brighter things.

I took a lazy amble back to the highway, skipping a junction and taking some slower back roads, in and out of sunshine, crossing gentle rolling hills, fields atop and forests between, one eye on the road and one eye on Sweden.

It was past noon now and I had a long way to go if I was going to get to Oland, the island off the east coast that I had my sights on. That thought passed me by however and it wasn't long before I was off the highway again with a vague idea of where I wanted to go. A set of small, interconnected islands could just about be made out from the map I had and I was intrigued enough to start off in that direction. I didn't seem to take long before the road in front of me appeared to hump up into the sky, a huge rolling bulge of tarmac dominating my horizon; as I soon realised this was the first of the bridges I was aiming to cross, humped as it was to allow vessels passage on the water below.

The bridge turned out to be somewhat spectacular, like a graceful wave lunging for the sky. Clearly I wasn't the first person to notice this as there was a well populated tourist pit stop at the foot of the tarmac on the other side. I was soon wandering around with my camera, in a little more sun than I'd seen for a few hours. Perfectly preened parkland adorned the waterfront, with picnic tables shrouded on three sides by colourful bushes. Two fishermen stood on the end of a jetty to my left as some old people posed for a photo with the bridge to my right. There were a couple of shops here, which a quick investigation revealed to be full of nothing but overpriced clichéd tourist crap. I ran over the road to see what the waterfront on that side had to offer, but unfortunately this was no more than an accumulation of pond scum and a mildly repulsive odour.

Ten minutes on and I found a rest spot by a quaint old church and I called in for no particular reason. I realised I'd promised to give my mum a bell on Saturday, which it now was and as she was likely to be heading to work I thought now would be a good time. The sun was out and with horses grazing in a colourful meadow to one side, it made a great setting to sit down and chat for five minutes.

As I reached the final patch of land, the deserted coastline I'd hoped for turned out to be a massive camping and caravan site. I wandered down to the shore regardless, past a randomly distributed set of stilted, blue plank wooden chalets, where I stood once again with my camera and took in what I'd found.

"Time's getting on now; I need to make a bit of progress."

I jumped on to the highway, wondering whether or not to keep exploring these little towns. Whilst in my thoughts I was struck by the warm sunlight. There were clouds all around, but not to the east. This is where Oland lay and that appeared to be where the sun was shining. I still didn't put my foot down, as I was enjoying the scenery far too much, but I rolled up my sleeves and set about driving. I stopped often, both to take photos and just to keep the drive pleasant. The further north I progressed, the more traditional the scenery seemed to become. Increasingly houses were square with the old style two-pitch roof covering much of the upper floor of the house, and old rustic windmills bean to pop up between the trees.

There are some things you can't help but notice whilst driving in southern Sweden. The wind turbines are a good start, you can barely go ten minutes without seeing one or ten, but rather than being an eyesore they're actually quite beautiful. It's not just the grace of their movement, slowly glinting with sunshine against the backdrop of a padded blue sky, but it's what they represent. Sweden is one of the World's lowest carbon producers and seeing the countryside accepting these pieces of technology makes you wonder why anyone else needs to be any different, the red tape and public objection in the UK suddenly seems a little absurd. I could go much further with this, but then I'd be writing a rather philosophical essay and not an account of my weekend!

Where was I? Oh, driving. Road use is taken really seriously here, driving after even half a pint can land you in jail, the speed limits change massively whilst driving through the smallest of hamlets on the biggest of main roads, and breaking these can get a bank breaking fine and a ban. Even parking violations incur unfathomable penalties. That said, driving here is a joy, I've driven over 400km today and thoroughly enjoyed it, at whatever pace I've felt like. The final thing you notice is the extensive, tall fencing lining the edges of all the major roads. Apparently, collisions with moose are one of the biggest causes of road deaths in the UK, and this imposing network of wire fencing is designed to combat this!

So I've been cruising down the highway for about ninety minutes now, stopping and starting as I pleased. The sun is beaming now, narrowly avoiding the clouds to my left, covering everything west of me, I know my next change in direction is taking me yet further east, where the sky is clear as it could be. The green country side is dotted here and there with wood clad, traditional houses, skipping in and out of forests and rolling greenery. I snake through a couple of towns and stay on the highway, I'm almost at Kalmar now and that's my gateway to Oland.

Kalmar wasn’t much of an event, my route took me by the north corner of the city and I got to see nothing more than industrial buildings and a couple of McDonalds. Right after this, the road opened up in front of me, becoming a single line stretching out into the now all blue sky. I’d hit Olandsbron, the bridge off the mainland. This bridge was vast; it took a good 10 minutes to cross, with tightly packed cars, un-separated, travelling two lanes each way at 90k/hr. With a big drop into the sea on your immediate right, this was somewhat daunting!

I pulled into a roadside rest stop soon after hitting Oland, to see if I could devise a plan. Other than sitting on a bench and taking in the sun for a while, I’d come up with nothing and so drove onwards. The scenery had changed a lot now.

To my left, land dropped steadily downwards toward the sea, which came and went as the road snaked east and west on the island. To my right, fairly constant pine forest glistened in its own mist, as the warm afternoon sun warmed the morning’s rain on the branches and shone back at me like a passing kaleidoscope.

I made several stops as I went, but I kept pace for some time and headed north, following the signs towards Borgholm, not that I knew why, but it was the way I planned on heading. As I reached the outskirts of the town, I was struck by the sight of a huge castle to my left across extensive green fields and made a bee-line for it. I slowed right down, probably annoying those behind me who knew where they were going, but soon found a turn-off that was aiming right for the castle. I parked up at the end of the road and set about exploring.

The castle was huge and imposing, hundreds of feet across the front from where I was standing, the sun illuminating it from the left, casting huge angular shadows down its face, from the sides of the solid, circular corner towers. As I looked to find a way in I was shepherded around by signs, into a shop that sat off to the side of the right hand tower. The shop was full of the usual pointless souvenirs, one or two interesting candle holders and stone knick-knacks, but nothing exciting, or reasonably priced. In a glass cabinet in the centre of the room sat a scale replica of the castle ruins. From looking at this it was clear that the inside of the castle was just a fairly basic courtyard; the interesting aspects were all around the outside; thus that’s where I went. I spent the next half hour wandering around the outside of the castle, weaving in and out of fields trying to get good photo angles, at one point I myself became the subject of another photographers shots, as I listened to his shutter clipping closed over and over again behind me, as I crouched in the yellow flowering grass to get my own shots.

After taking my fill of photos I headed back to the car. The sun was beating down now and I took some time out to enjoy it, as I rolled my sleeves up and sat on a nearby wall, eyes shut and head back, my only company the pulsing sun and the bird in the try by my side, singing it’s melodic songs. Eventually a couple wandered back for their care and the moment was gone, cue me wandering back to and starting mine up, taking my leave also.

I hit the road with a bit more pace now, the day was ageing and I wanted to see the north of the island. Some stops had to be made, to look out over the coast and take yet more shots, but no more town were visited until I drove into Byxelkrok. I slowed to a coast as I entered the town, I needed to find myself somewhere for the evening so I could get the car parked and relax. As I passed a busy marina I noted the option to myself, but decided to press on and see what else the town had to offer. No sooner had I finished thinking this then I’d reached the end of the town. To the side of the road was a sandy lay-by, the open ocean glistening in the lowering sun. Parking the car, I dove out with the camera and took some cheesy top-gear shots of myself and the car by the ocean. This was no easy task, as the nearest place I could set the camera up was a good 40 yards away. See me hitting the timer button and sprinting across the pot-holed grassy ground to get into place in 10 seconds. It took a few attempts, but I got the shot I wanted and headed back to the marina.

The marina was lively; it had shops, a restaurant, good facilities, a pub and great scenery. I used my limited language abilities to translate a sign and understood that overnight parking was 100 Kronor. This worked out at about 8 quid and after wandering around for a while, weighing the pros and cons, I went and found the harbour master and paid my dues. We had a good chat for some time and he advised me all the best spots to see on the north of the island. He also let me charge my camera batteries, which was a god-send as I was down to my last set. The level of trust here is great, as I returned to collect my batteries, I was told to just go and grab them. Unsupervised, by the open cash drawer, I grabbed my fully charged batteries and thanked the kind harbour master with a real gratefulness. On his advice, I jumped back in the car and drove up to the northernmost point of the island. I parked the car under a tree at the end of the road, and made my way towards the lighthouse, that towered above the bushes across a nice footbridge, flanked either side by the ocean.

I passed an old Swedish couple, pushing their bikes along the path between the bushes, the late afternoon sun casting through and illuminating the scene in a really peaceful and almost romantic fashion. I soon left the path, carving my way through the bushes to the stony shoreline, which seemed a much more interesting path to take. I took endless photographs as I made my around the headland, eventually standing in a great spot, the sun right behind the glass tip of the lighthouse, illuminating the bulb room so brightly that to look at it cast the rest of the scene into silhouette, an amazing display, the lighthouse powerfully illuminated, dominating its surroundings, yet it was the middle of the day.

I took my time making my way around the headland, taking many more photos as I went, before making my way back towards the car. Once in the car, I rejoined the road and set the cruise control to 20. The road at the top of the island created a large loop, back around to Byxelkrok, so heading the long way I let the car drive itself as I took in the amazing scenery. Beautiful bays coming in and out of pine forests, with the low sun casting long shadows through the trees, glistening off the low lying mist on the ground. Every scene was like something out of a movie.

All too soon I was back at the marina, but the day had little left to give and I was hungry. All I’d eaten thus far was fruit and hunks of dry bread, like a muscovite refugee. The Greek restaurant on site smelled great, after a quick look over the menu I collected my cash and my iPod from the car and took a table outside. After rearranging the furniture so I could face out to sea, I settled down with a beer and my music and put my feet up. I waited some time before ordering food, taking some time to myself to appreciate everything that was going on and reflect somewhat on the last 30 hours. Eventually my stomach won out and I ordered myself a special Souvlaki, which came quaintly served with a little Swedish flag in it. It didn’t touch the sides.

The sun was almost setting now, so I didn’t wait for the bill, opting instead to approach the bar, pay swiftly and make my way off down the shore, eyeing the horizon to find the best spot to photograph the sunset. I got some great shots, before perching on a boulder, which had been warmed to a great degree by the day’s sun and was something of a treat in the rapidly dropping evening temperature.

As the sun went behind the low lying clouds I could see that there was going to be nothing impressive to see form where I was perched, thus I made my way right around the other side of the harbour, climbing a concrete wall onto the pebble coated shore line. I must have been near the nesting site for some sea birds, as I was loudly dive-bombed repeatedly by what appeared to be seagulls, but black and white and not the usual chip-thieving sort. I later found out that there were in fact guillemots, which until that point I’d thought was just a semi-popular indie band.

Having taken my last shots of the bay back in the harbour, of standing yachts reflecting beautifully over the glassy harbour water, I returned to the car to prepare for the evening. I retrieved my ‘bed’ from the case in the boot, popped to the toilet block to scrub my teeth and made my way back to the car. Opening my laptop I set about continuing my blog.

The sun set a long time ago, but the western third of the sky is still flooded with daylight. I’m quite far north now and can’t help but wonder; is it actually going to go dark?

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No. It didn’t go dark.

During my disturbed sleep, I periodically looked out of the windows, noticing the daylight remaining strong across a third of the sky, marching across a path to the east, where the sun eventually rose again, beaming in through the opposite window in which it had set.

The morning routine was done in double quick time, though I took my time as I ate my continental breakfast on a nearby picnic bench, amusing myself by lobbing chunks of stale bread towards the crowd of screaming seabirds and watching them chase each other around the bay for the spoils.

I had a plan this morning; I was going to head to the other side of the northern tip, into the forests for the only hike of the weekend. The forest car park was fairly empty, it’s still not the summer season yet so the crowds aren’t yet here. As I explored the area, I noticed an array of little black felt-roofed, red wooden sheds just inside the tree line. It turned out that each of these huts contained an educational exhibit, explaining both the nature I was about to explore, and the traditional history of Oland’s farming past. One thing I hadn’t expected that day was to find myself looking through a microscope at 11am, observing the strangely scary face that appeared to be present in the armoured back of a rose-winged grasshopper.

I threw my trainers on and set off into the woods, there were various trails to choose from and naturally I picked the longest. With my bag on my back full of just-in-case supplies I made my way into the woods. The track was well marked, despite being fairly un-trodden, by red sprayed lines on the trees, with one easily visible from the next. I had a moment of appreciation for what I was doing as I walked slowly through the forest, the place was amazing and I felt really lucky to find myself there. Two sounds filled the air; the frantic songs of wildlife, and the sounds of waves on the shore to what seemed like all sides of me.

It wasn’t long before I found the waves, rolling on to a beach that despite being windswept and cold was extremely beautiful. It reminded me of Black Rock Beach, a lovely spot on the west coast of Rarotonga in the Cook Islands, only much more rugged and obviously less tropical. I ambled around this area for a while; I knew I had a lot of ground to cover today, but I was really appreciating the scene that I’d found myself in and wanted to be sure I gave it the time it deserved. The next quarter mile or so didn’t see me on the track much, as I returned to the shore through every gap in the trees that I could get through without trampling the wildlife.

A little further down the shore I spotted a sight that I’d seen on a lot of postcards and pictures on tourist information boards. Tipped on its side, right where it washed up 300 years ago, was the element ravaged carcass of an old Dutch merchant ship that met its match on a sand bar just out to see, one stormy, foggy night in the 1700s. Naturally the camera got a good working again here, and I posed for a few more cheesy shots of myself, determined to finally go somewhere and have proof that I was actually there!

The remainder of the walk took just over an hour, passing old broken sea defences, manmade trenches, Viking burial mounds and the oldest oak tree on the island. Troll’s Oak was an impressive 900 years old and it looked it. I stumbled across a well in a sunken green meadow, picturesquely illuminated by the no well-woken sun beaming through the trees. A helpful sign nearby told me that local legend tells of the well’s water having supernatural powers. Interestingly, it didn’t specify what those powers were, and after glancing at the stagnant, mulch filled water in the bottom, I had no intention of trying to find out.

As I neared my starting point, the path I was following took me down by the shore, this time on the other side of the peninsula. This patch of shore was home to a moderately large herd of cows, which a notice in the car park had assured me were friendly. Perhaps they are, when you don’t stop in the middle of them to take photos. Some of the younger members of the herd took something of a dislike to this. See me power-walking into the nearest tree-line, hotly pursued by three trotting, snorting dirt kicking cows. I felt rather stupid, but a trampling is never ideal, particularly when you’re alone in the middle of nowhere in a sparsely populated foreign country.

Safely back in the car I hit the road, I had 6 hours of driving ahead of me and it was one in the afternoon now.

The drive back was a little surreal, I chose a different route to that which I’d arrived by and it took me through hour after hour of pine-forest lined roads. This reminded me of New Zealand so much and made me very aware of how my situation had changed since then. I spent these hours deep in thought, despite not wanting to be, the solace left me no choice.

Emerging from the forests and back towards the west side of Sweden, the road began to appear as it had on my way over. I stopped for the loo and decided that I’d passed enough strawberry stalls at this point and I should see what the fuss was all about, was each and every one of them had had an extensive queue of Swedes eagerly waiting to hand their cash over. I’ve never tasted fruit like it. Perhaps freshly picked passion fruits in the tropics could be a fair comparison for the amount of flavour that burst from the soft and juicy fruit, picked in the sun that morning and being enjoyed on the road in a matter of hours. I wish you could get fruit like that at home!

After a final loo break and filling the fuel tank back to the brim, I found myself back in Malmo. I clearly know the city well as I navigated my way through the city and right back to my hotel, without the aid of any maps. My incident free drive almost came a cropper as I hunted for a parking space. Weary from my massive trek and concentrating much more on parking spots then what I was doing, I managed to drive the wrong way at some lights, approaching oncoming traffic at a duel carriageway. Luckily, the late Sunday roads were quiet and I was able to reverse across the junction and correct my course.

I was tired and a little shaken as I parked the car in a tight space in the multi storey by the hotel, but I was riding on a high from the amazing weekend I’d just experiences.

I’m now in my hotel room, desperate to go to bed, but my overwhelming thought it ‘my god, how soon can I do that again!?’

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Comments

[Lynda]

OMG :-D
Hey Hey This is a great collection of photo's they captor a very much carming feeling, you could only be realxed on this trip. Lookin good on your pic's!! Glad to see you have managed to get your self in on some of them but you look a little aged on photo 11 what was it to much wine night before hee hee. Keep up the good work chat soon and hope your having a uber great time xLx :-D