Another Nordic Summer

My posts seem to revolve around the state of the weather and I make no apology for that. The weather dictates all our lives, but in my experience, none more so than in Sweden. May offered some glimpses of what was to come after a miserable winter and then of course, June – which included a rather cold mid-summers day was reasonably average. This had us both worried about the summer plans… with what could be summed up rather nicely as an intensive two month period of visitors which arrived in such frequency, that one could literally hold the door open for the next arrival - the vicious cycle of bed linen laundry only just keeping up with the pace of change.

 

Mid-Summers Day. Barely even summer!

Despite the onset of visitors, we still hadn’t quite adapted to the Swedish way. That is taking 6-8 weeks of summer vacation in one block. We adopted a more conservative approach of a 2-3 week block surrounded by weeks before and after the main season, taking days off here and there and in a way prolonging the holiday period over 3 months with a few weeks of work getting in the way in between. I know, it’s a tough life living in Scandanavia. However sure enough, come July, pretty much 80% of the neighbourhood packed their car to the tilt and drove off to their summer houses not to be seen again for many weeks and in most cases months.

The visitor rules were soon in action at our place on Ekovägen. On the first one or two nights, visitors were treated like long lost friends – which of course they were. Beds were made, dinner was prepared with much deliberation, sightseeing adventures were organised and led, and nothing much in return was expected. Then the 2 day to 1 week rules came into play which generally revolved around visitors being a little more self-sufficient, not expecting 24/7 attention, cooking a dinner or two and maybe taking themselves off sightseeing by themselves. After one week all bets were off and visitors generally had to fend for themselves at our house. Three weeks plus and some servitude to the hosts was expected and anything above five weeks and guests are generally invoiced upon departure and pushed into the departing transport with – if their lucky, a fleeting farewell. No one dared stay longer than five weeks!

In order to limit the indoor chaos around feeding times and in blind faith of the oncoming Swedish summer, we purchased outdoor dining furniture and hoped for the best. The day it arrived it was cold and miserable and we questioned our folly of our faith. However, June clicked over to July and our faith started to bear fruit and Sweden bathed in what was one of the hottest July’s on record. In fact it was so hot, morning, day and night I think we ate outside for every meal for nearly every single day for 6 weeks straight.

Outside dining and World Cup winner supporters in action.

Our small garden was put to good use too. The vegetable garden was a disaster – it started out well, but as soon as the seedlings popped out of the ground, an army of slugs from the bordering forest attacked and decimated the entire thing – who said Sweden hasn’t been at war in 100 years! So we tried flowers instead and after yet the same result decided to give up on it; the buggers even ate the marigolds. However Ana’s pool was a permanent feature in the garden for the whole of summer and combined with all the other small gardens of the adjoining row houses – which unlike in New Zealand are not fenced fortresses but open and continuous, the kids enjoyed a rather large garden to make the most of on the long hot summer days. This enabled us to easily make friends with most of our neighbours who arose after the long winter hibernation. Before they all left on holiday several days later that is.

Various short stayers came and went, the fridge was replenished with beer for the arrival of Tina’s parents - Karin and Michael, and the nightly World Cup watching commenced. Their place was taken by the arrival of my mother - Hilda, and a week later we all bundled everyone into a people mover and south we went.

Any excuse to cool off was welcome in what turned into being a blazer of a summer.

From our base just south of the city of Kalmar we explored the local area, swam in the Baltic, took in the local church’s and castles and frequented the camp ground pool and ice cream shop liberally. Temperatures soared into the mid-thirties throughout Sweden and the country seemingly beamed in delight; albeit a bit lethargically.

Kalmar Castle

Ana getting into some horse riding practise

The very warm Baltic Sea

Back in Stockholm, temperatures continued to bask, only to be broken by massive thunder and lightning storms that sank the odd boat and burned the odd apartment complex to the ground. A friend made a whistle top visit and in the midst of it all I squeezed in some work.

Blue Lagoon

Specially designed sun catching park benches - only in Sweden

Ice-cream. Need I say anymore

 Meanwhile I made the most of the very long days by riding most mornings and getting some miles into the legs before the 3 Peaks later in the year. Like last year, I slipped into the summer routine quite nicely. I was generally awake between 4 and 5 am every day. I’ve always been a morning person but I have never found it so easy to get up and go and get in a couple of hours riding before work than I have in Sweden.

Did I mention the heat?

Early August saw Hilda jetting back to New Zealand, and Tina, Ana and I packing up another hire car for a week road trip to the west coast circumnavigating Sweden’s largest Lake – Lake Vänern in the process. Of course the weather couldn’t last. For six weeks in a row it was stifling, but the moment we set off on our camping trip the temperatures plummeted and it poured down. It rained so much many of the towns we passed through seemed to be left in a state of flood. However, we made the most of it, spending most of our nights in rented stugas (holiday houses) and squeezing in a couple of nights in the tent when the risk of floating away in the night was at its least.

 

Now time for 'our' holiday - a little colder and wetter

On the northern shores of Vänern we followed some random signs ‘Picasso Statue’ to low and behold, a huge Picasso Statue. Apparently the locals had thought that there was no reason why they shouldn’t have Europe’s most famous artist commission a large statue for them, and they obviously had way too much money, so that’s exactly what they did. We only found it by chance while looking for somewhere to pee.

Picasso was here

Near Karlstad we camped the first night only to be warned that it got noisy. Apparently the area used be known for a local fresh water crayfish which was eventually fished to its death. So now, the people still come, but rather sadly they don’t fish as there is nothing to fish for but instead bring frozen Chinese imports and drown their sorrows with alcohol. We have definitely had better night’s sleep!

The next day we drove in torrential rain – something that was to become a pattern of the trip, to the town of Arvika where we dined on a greasy lunch at the only establishment we could find open. It appears Swedish towns are about as quiet on Sunday than I remember the New Zealand town centres of my youth being. And… the food about as healthy! When we first arrived in Stockholm well over a year ago, we were amazed at what a fit and healthy looking bunch inhabited it. However as we have travelled further abroad in Sweden, we have come to realise that this is not actually the norm elsewhere in Sweden. If food options in town centres outside of Stockholm have anything to go by, that in part would explain the difference.

Next stop was the beautiful national park of Glaskogen were we spent a few days canoeing the water ways and walking the trails in between the down pours of astronomical proportions. Ana got to practise her favourite Swedish summer pastime of blueberries and lingonberry picking and we always rolled back into the stuga with a belly full of wild berries. The little hire car got a good work out driving out of the park on the very windy and hilly dirt roads and from there we headed to the West Coast.

The good rural Swedish life... Fires, Stugas, Canoes and cold

We took a ferry out to Koster Island on what was truly the only day we saw the sun in a week. Koster was a sleepy hamlet bursting with Norwegians (the border was only a stone’s throw away) and their luxury yachts (all Norwegians are millionaires) but that didn’t ruin the rustic ambience on the island and we made the most of the weather swimming in the crystal clear water and soaking up the rays of sun at every possible opportunity – we truly are adapting to the Swedish life.

 

The beautiful Kosta Islands

A day exploring the iron age ruins of the area and we were ready to make the long journey east once more. We were determined to at least camp one more night on the trip so we split the drive at Läckö Castle on the southern shores of Vänern and camped in the woods in a scene reminiscent of home.

Old rocks - must be Europe

Camping...at last

Back in Stockholm once more, the miserable August weather deteriorated even more and we figured that we were well and truly on the path towards the long winter once again. However September has been glorious so it’s not quite ready just yet much to everyone’s delight.

This week I have been feeling a bit stateless as I cannot vote in the New Zealand general election as I’ve been out of the country too long, and we are not allowed to vote in Sweden as we are not citizens. We are able to vote in the municipal elections held at the same time though so I figured I may as well. Both Tina and I laughed at the process of casting our votes. This involves selecting a pre-printed card for the party you would like to vote for in full view of everyone at the polling station and then placing and sealing it an envelope. The trick we heard is that people simply take a whole bunch of the cards from a variety of parties and discard the ones they don’t want at a later date. Once more, parties have to supply their own cards and solicitation on election day is not only legal (contrary to New Zealand) but party members stand outside polling booths handing out their voting cards and bribing young children with balloons. If Ana could vote, she would have voted the Social Democrats – they supplied helium filled balloons. I did note a few days earlier a couple of their type loitering at our row of letter boxes and depositing their voting cards for our convenience. I laughed when our letter box didn’t contain any, they were only giving their cards to the letter boxes with Swedish sounding names. I ended up voting for a guy who wore a t-shirt, sported some stubble and looked like someone I could actually sit down and have a chat with, rather than the twats in suits that featured on nearly other party poster I saw. I definitely wasn’t going to vote for the incumbents whose sole political agenda was along the lines of ‘If you vote for them, say goodbye to jobs’ without actually outlining any policies of their own.

So, with the days shortening and nights cooling, we again find ourselves moving rapidly towards the slippery slope of winter. Not just a couple of months of it, but another long Nordic winter. Are we ready for it? Not really. We just hope it is a good one this time. And by that I mean lots of snow, very cold but clear and crisp. Will we get it? We will see.

In two weeks time I jet to the United Kingdom for the first time in nearly ten years. Although by the time I get there it might not be that United if half of Scotland get their way. What will they call it then? They’ve lost or given up half the world and now their very own land lubbers are potentially going their own way. It will simply have to be renamed A Kingdom. Why am I going to the United Kingdom? Well, this will give you some clues:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDP9STnZpvQ

An expedition to the midnight sun

About a fortnight ago, just like last year, someone flicked a switch and summer started. The trees budded and flowered, the following week they were green with leaves. The frosts stopped and then it wouldn’t fall below 20 degrees centigrade during the night. The seemingly endless nights are now seemingly endless days. Wherever the sun shines, people are worshipping it. It’s as if no one has a job anymore, the parks are filled with bikini and short clad locals all day long. All the talk at work is of the upcoming vacation period. Trying to plan field work any time in June, July or August is a nightmare as nearly everyone will be on leave, many for the entire three months! So we thought we would warm ourselves up to a summer of fun ourselves, make the most of the weather, celebrate the one year anniversary and bugger off too.

 

Ana was pretty excited about the summer too

Well, the timing was more luck than anything as the tickets had been booked months ago. Tina and Ana were off to Germany, and although the draw of Hotel Bayer was as ever strong, I booked myself a ticket north, in anticipation of a week hiking my way through Lapland, recharging the brain and body, and escaping the city life for some much needed sanity.

Abisko is located near the very top of Sweden at latitude 68.35. To put that in perspective it’s closer to the North Pole than the top of Iceland and about the same distance north from the very top of Scotland, as the very top of Scotland is to the very bottom of Spain to the south. A very busy month at work saw preparations a little rushed and panicked. A few phone calls on the Monday had me worried. They had had a lot of snow this year, the season been between winter and summer meant all the huts were closed and I was unlikely to see anyone else, snow shoes were a must. On Thursday I picked up Ana from dagis (Kindergarden) and we went shopping. The outdoor shops were empty of winter gear. The retailers looked at me if I was a little mad. It was thirty degrees outside, buy a canoe or something! Ylva, a colleague at work came to rescue, rang around a few shops and Friday lunchtime saw me in the possession of a pair of snow shoes that had been confined to the store room of a city outlet for the summer. A rushed food shop that night, taxi to the airport, kiss the family adieu as they got on their plane and headed south, and I was heading a long way north.

The plane landed in Kiruna, but more on that dire location later. I was eager to camp in the wild on day one and by the late afternoon I had managed to transport myself to Abisko, buy some fuel for my stove and hit the trail for a couple of hours to a beautiful camping spot by the side of a raging river on the Kungsleden (Sweden’s national hiking trail). It was good to be sleeping under the stars again. Except there were no stars. The sun dipped below the horizon just after midnight and then popped back up a few minutes later, the sunset and sunrise merging into one. At 5am I gave up trying to sleep - it felt like midday, packed up my things and headed on my way.

 

Great to back in the hills

The river raged its way down the valley and I headed towards its source, the frozen Lake Abesko. Great mounds of soft snow littered the track sporadically which made the going slow and awkward and it was very tempting to simply go and walk on the frozen lake. However it was hot, the world around me was melting like mad and I wasn’t an idiot, I stuck to the path for the time being.

It wasn’t long until I bumped into a German guy… the only other person I was to see during the near week long trip. The timing was impeccable, we were going the same way, and we were similarly equipped, so we talked as we started to climb up into the whiteness ahead and although we walked largely independently and spent the nights in different locations, we spent much of the next three days walking together.

Up to now the snow shoes had been on and off as required. A reasonably annoying process and we joked that we could have left them behind and saved the hassle. However as we ascended into the Alis Valley it was soon to become apparent that the snow shoes were to be fitted and not taken off for many days.

 

Plenty of snow shoeing action to be had

I’m not particularly experienced in snow shoeing I have to admit, well not up to that point anyway. Therefore I was surprised how much hard work it was, about a quarter the pace of a brisk walk would be my guess, or maybe that’s just to do with me not being used to having feet ten times the size of my normal footprint. It didn’t help overly that by mid-afternoon the metre deep snow was as soft as butter and we sank up to our knees anyway. It probably would have been our waist without the snowshoes! To make things even more interesting, the track (of which was buried and not visible) snaked its way through significant swathes of swamp and crossed many small streams along the way. Of course the swamps and streams were buried and invisible, but we found them alright and it wasn’t long until the water permeated into our boots and started to develop a sixth sense of how strong the snow pack was likely to be by the hue of blues and whites on the top of the snow pack.

I was pretty pleased to find a shelter to kip in that second night vowing to avoid the afternoons in the future and hopefully walk on more solid ice for the rest of the trip. The weather was improving markedly (not that it ever been bad) and the clouds of the morning had long disappeared and were never to reappear until I was back in civilisation.

 

View from inside a shelter

The next day I made it to a group of huts on the south shore of Lake Alis. A collection of 5 or 6 large huts housed a sauna, shop, reception and quite a few beds. Of course, it was off season and they were locked. However my German friend had got wind of the emergency shelters. The backcountry hut complexes all had them and they were open when the main huts were closed out of season. I was expecting something pretty basic from my experience in New Zealand and was imagining a barren wooden hut with a bench, maybe a chair and a couple of worn out mattresses in a bunk bed. Still, they would be a welcome respite from the elements if needed. However I was pretty surprised to find real mattresses and pillows, gas on tap, a plentiful supply of firewood, emergency phone, pots, pans and even cutlery. It was early in the morning but already the ice was softening so together with my new German acquaintance we hatched a plan to rest for the remainder of the day in the hut, seeking shelter not from the cold wild weather but rather the pounding sun and soft snow, and to then head onwards after midnight.

 

Skimming across the ice early in the morning

We awoke just after midnight. I hadn’t taken any source of light with me on the trip and was glad I hadn’t as it was as light as day. We packed and by 1 am we were on our way. In the twilight, the ice was hard and in conditions that would make the most experienced mountaineer smile we headed up steeply onto a snow encrusted plateau up above, the snow shoes skimming off the hard surface in what were near perfect walking conditions.

No problem with the light at 1 am

Near the top of the pass we spotted the only reindeer of the trip, seemingly heading from one valley to the other in search of better grazing grounds. From the top we could judge by the different shades of the ice the pathways of the rivers and swamps and plotted a route to avoid them and spent a glorious morning plotting our route down into the heads of the Abisko River Valley. Further down below the icy plateau, crossing the rivers high with snow melt was interesting. Valleys and chutes were metres deep in snow, corniced at the edges and often housed snow bridges tempting us with easy passage. However by mid morning the snow bridges looked dodgy and although they looked solid enough to cross we figured the risk wasn’t worth it and were forced either up or down the valley’s to find more appropriate (and safer) crossing points.

 

Sunrise - or is that the sunset 1.30 am

The comparison to New Zealand was marked. Where visible, the alpine vegetation was dominated by a low growing snow berry looking plant and the other alpine plants all seemed to be very closely related to the ones I was used to seeing in the alpine environment back home. There was even a hawk which sounded remarkably like a kea and species of wren, finch and something that looked and sounded very much like a pipit were in abundance. But my favourite was a strange hen type bird with red toggles above its eyes that sounded like a someone trying to jump-start a model-T Ford. The main give away that it was not New Zealand though was the broad wide snow encrusted valleys with the still leafless birch as apposed to the narrow green valleys of New Zealand.

Finally some real mountains...bliss

By eight we had descended to the valley itself and were in need of a rest. We had already been walking seven hours yet it was only just breakfast time. Usually, I would have rested and kept going. However I was in no rush, the weather was stunning and I was keen to avoid the soft snow of the afternoon, so I snoozed, then set up camp and spent the rest of the afternoon reading on the Kindle - the most amazing invention for back country travel I have come across in a while.

The next day was supposedly a pretty straightforward walk down the valley back towards the Kungsleden and the main thoroughfare. The track meandered through the naked birch forest, which was still not even showing any signs of its spring growth. However with deep soft snow everywhere, the going was painfully slow and the track, where followable was pretty much a waste of time. I ended up ignoring it completely and navigated my way between the side of the river and the high naked ridges in an attempt to avoid the worst of the deep snow and it took me all morning to travel what realistically should have taken a few hours.

The following day I was back in Abisko. and then the day after that I caught the train back to Kiruna where I spent a night waiting for my flight south to Stockholm. Kiruna was an odd sort of place. It’s a mining town with huge towering waste rock dumps looming over the city centre like it’s about to swallow the whole town. Well, that is exactly was is happening. The iron ore under the town is worth so much they are actually moving the entire town over the next thirty years so they can mine it out. It is probably one of the most uninspiring places I have been to in Sweden.

 

Down town Kiruna... lovely. That's the mine waste dump in the background

Overall it was stunning trip into the mountains and a beautiful part of the world. It is easy to forget that there is still a lot of wilderness in Europe if you look hard enough. I hope it is a place we will return to as a family in the summer when the foot travel is a little less rigorous.

We have been in Sweden a little over a year now. It’s gone fast. We have settled in reasonably well, of course there is still a way to go and there is to be some interesting developments before the onset of next winter which are going to keep us busy. The mountains cleared my head and at the same time reminded me of one of the things I always miss when away from home… being close to places like that. Of course the grass is always greener no matter where you go and we are very much looking forward to the summer holidays in the mean time, exploring some places close to Stockholm with friends and family, and of course, making the most of the generous leave entitlements!

A Proper Spring

Spring arrived early in Stockholm this year. By March, temperatures creeped up to a whopping 6-7 degrees Celsius during the day and the heavy duty winter gloves were put in storage, then taken back out again, then put in storage again, then taken back out again, and by the end of March they were put back in storage once more and have stayed there for the last month. Overnight temperatures still hovered just above or just below freezing, but after the long winter (which by Swedish standards would have to be nearly the shortest on record) it felt relatively warm. Maybe it was the light. Gone was the occasional sighting of the mythical round orb far on the horizon between 10am and 2pm for an average of what seemed like 73 seconds a day. In what seemed a period of a week, although I am sure it was far longer, the sun was waking me up at 4-5 am and its eerie late night glow keeping me awake when I went to bed at night. Yes, curtains would surely keep the house dark, but from our experience so far, Swedes don’t like to waste the daylight and the meagre see through blinds in our house are seemingly there to merely dim the glow. I questioned a few natives on this fact and was simply reminded of the long dark winter and the need to make the most of the long days in summer... fair enough.

Early March saw some scum bag steal our cycle trailer and two of our bikes from our front porch one Sunday night much to our annoyance. I have only had bikes stolen in two countries… Sweden and Japan. A statistic that seems a little unbelievable but no doubt driven by being a little too complacent in both comparatively ‘safe’ countries. I later found out Sweden actually has a very high rate of bike theft, no doubt driven by the many people that actually ride bikes here… well in summer anyway. Speaking of which, I actually loved riding the bike in the winter. With studded tyres fitted, hard packed ice and snow drifts were made short work of. When I finally got myself some wool lined gloves and my hands didn’t freeze after five minutes ensuring I could still operate brakes, gear and brain cells and I wasn’t going through one of the fortnightly sick cycles, I really enjoyed exploring the wider area in the frigid conditions when the chance presented itself. That’s not to say I did not breath a heavy sigh of relief when the temperatures started to rise… it was greeted with the fondest admiration. Most of Stockholm seemed to awaken from hibernation too. We saw and met neighbours we had never even laid on eyes on before, the many children’s playgrounds were busy once more, and it was not an uncommon site to see people with their eyes shut, head tiled slightly backwards, simply looking at the sun in an attempt to absorb as much goodness as it was willing to hand out. We were no exception.

Summer was well and truly around the corner… or so we hoped. The year was soon booked up with visitors, holidays, plane tickets, holiday houses and rental cars. It wasn’t long until the whole of 2014 was mapped out before us. Once it was all booked, it nearly felt more relaxing than the holiday will hopefully be itself!

The first visitor came all the way from sunny Dunedin and turned up at the end of March. In the days before he arrived we had one of the biggest dumps of snow we had had all year. Yet Adam timed his stay to perfection. Temperatures soared into the teens, the spring flowers quickly sprouted least they didn’t get another chance and we even attended the first (albeit slightly premature) barbeque of the season. The moment Adam left it started to rain non-stop for a week and both Ana and I came down with yet another fever. Things were definitely looking promising, but a good old spring cycle of warm / cold appeared well and truly set it.

A final dump of snow?

Less than 1 week later...

Quick... time for a barbeque

 A late Easter followed by the 1st of May also offering a public holiday a week later to welcome the Spring in, ensured three long weekends in a row. We hired the usual tiny suspect of a car from the local petrol station for a few krona and spent Easter exploring the areas surrounding Stockholm. Friday was a frigid cold day and combined with an unfortunate selection of clothes (always a fatal mistake anytime of the year in Sweden) saw us heading home from our coastal walking early via the now notorious Ikea to stock up on summer visitor supplies such as extra bedding.

Easter... All the cool kids wear shades in Stockholm. Their eyes are not used to seeing the sun!

However the following three days fared much better and was spent carrying way to many clothes in the basking sun in what felt like heat (although to a non-Swede was probably more akin to a cold breeze). We made the most of the car visiting areas that required complicated public transport connections and with friends explored Tyresta National Park south east of Stockholm and Eldgarnsö Island to the west. At the end of the weekend, coloured by the sun, but not burnt to a crisp like we would have been in New Zealand, we felt like we had risen from the darkness. Well, we had actually.

 

Now that's a track marker you wouldn't see in New Zealand!

Ana and friend... riding the trails

Floating picnic stop - Eldgarnso Island

 Which brings me on to summer… was it summer already? Was this in fact the start of a glorious 6 month long pattern of long days, warm temperatures, barbeques in the garden, long bike rides in the twilight, winter gloves staying put in the back of the top drawer? Probably not and as the ever pessimistic locals told us, ‘well at least we will get one nice week this year’. Fact is, we actually had three in April. Unheard of and probably already forgotten by most, although it’s hard to know what to believe. One thing I do know is I woke up this morning at 6 am, went down to make myself a coffee and it was snowing!

 

Ana was excited to see the fountains nearby had been turned back on

The locals burning the witches on 1st of May