Driving away from the Höga Kusten makes me somehow sad. Maybe it is the weather that slowly changes, the last cold night in a humid stuga or the kilometres of broken asphalt (and me focussing not to puncture another tyre…) that makes me a bit melancholic. Keep reading
The tenth time; it is the tenth time that I am spending my holidays in Sweden. Apart from one time in spring and one time in winter, which is one of my most memorable experiences where I would gather around the fire at night with the people I love after either a snowmobile or dog sledging tour, a hike across the lake with snow-shoes, cross-country skiing or ice-fishing to finish the day rolling in the snow after a hot sauna, the other times I have been were in summer. The Swedes themselves are off, enjoying the sun, bars and restaurants put their terraces out, nightlife is Keep reading
I have hiked in summer in basically all the provinces of Sweden, not having any problems finding accommodation. Thanks to the Allmansrättan, giving anyone the right to enjoy outdoor activities respectful of the environment, including camping on any land (but for a few exceptions), I have pitched my tent along hiking trails many times, occasionally staying at a local bed & breakfast, or stuga (a small wooden cabin). Keep reading
Hiking the High coast trail, we have experienced many different comfort levels and heating devices in the stugas we stayed at.
Last night, after a hike up through the wet forest in the Höga Kusten, we arrived at a small stuga. Happy to see a small wooden cottage in the distance and eager to discover what surprises it would hold, we sped up in our soaking hiking boots and opened its door… Keep reading
Yesterday, after some unexpected events, we arrived in Hölick later than planned. As the season only starts in mid-May, finding a place to sleep in the deserted village was merely impossible. Far from being as comfortable as in other parts of Sweden, shelters of the nature reserve with their very basic 3 walls and 2 built-in benches were not an option to spend the night as it would be too cold. This led to my first experience with the Swedish Allemansrätten: Keep reading
Driving the Volvo V-60 reminds us of David Hasselhof’s talking car, Kit; alarm bells start ringing when we switch lanes, a red light pops up in the windscreen when we get too close to the car in front of us, light flashes on the sides of the front-window when overtaking a car or in the rare occasion of being overtaken by another car on these winding Swedish roads on which Swedes take it very easy.
Peeping through the porthole of our cabin on the AF Chapman, I see a few white boats anchored to the harbour of Skeppbron on the opposite bank of Strömmen, the body of water separating us from the 5-to-8-story-historical buildings on the East shore of Gamla Stan, the old town of Stockholm. The seagulls are awake. It is only late April and the sun already rises very early: it is 5AM and it is daylight. Keep travelling!