Travelhector

During the travel day the landscape has changed significantly. The skerries with granite rocks are rougher compared to the south and the sea is not yet, but almost fjord-like and requires monumental bridges.

I have read a lot about Fjällbacka, including dead bodies, dangerous family affairs and brave Swedish cops that fight for the good. No wonder that they offer guided tours based on the murder mysteries by Camilla Läckberg, all located here in Fjällbacka. With a bit of disappointment I look around but these days it is all peaceful and the highest crimes are badly dressed tourists.

The city is not spectacular, but it has a rough charm with the red stilt houses at the harbour, the rocks and the skerry islands.

I am fascinated by the view from the cliff “Vetteberget”and the mixed up weather increases the dramatic atmosphere among the skerry archipels.

The town is small enough to offer some items in a unique, island position way: the church, the camp site and the WiFi zone. The latter is available in the lobby of Hotel Brygga, furnished like a gentleman’s club from previous century.

Even better is fish + wine at the “Åckes” bar, only topped by the overwhelming “Kanelbullar” of the local bakery (close to the harbour). Wherever you turn to, the sea is always in reach and comes along with umpteen harbours or landing places, surrounded by shimmering blue water.

Lazy days pass by with a walk to the ravine that had been used for the movie “Ronja Räubertochter”. Usually I am almost magic on how to get obstacles out of the way, but this time I drop it as I do not want to pulverize the tourist potential of this nice little town.

The high season is already gone, but each weekend all wealthy Gothenburg people arrive at their summer resort or their resident trailor at the Fjällbacka Camping. The camping here is a funny thing: at least three signs along the road indicate that all places are full, but when you arrive and ask, you will be offered a pitch on the large meadow among tents and all kinds of travellers. It is like Munich restaurants that put “reserved” tags on all tables, even though not a single customer has asked for a table yet.

Personal recommendation: stay relaxed and look out for calm spots – in August you will surely find them.

I wake up and feel great: my first night out in the middle of nowhere, all on my own and sure enough it was no problem at all. Nevertheless, I am proud: you have to get over your weaker self from time to time and prove that you are still young, still hungry, still alive.

The lake lies there, all deserted. Not even an elk has come by, although I starred at the trees for at least fifteen minutes. After double coffee I give up and leave my private all-mine-camp site. We have things to do and places to go.

Today I will meet friends with family at the Ringsjö lake. On the way I stop by and take a look at the castle Bosjökloster with parks and exhibitions. The photography exhibition presents fantastic pictures of Sweden’s fauna while the rest consists of a broad collection of the owner’s family oil paintings, old nun clothing and probably some handicraft/art (impossible to tell). It is a nice interruption of my travel routine and I enjoy coffee in the park’s café.

Around noon I arrive at the Ringsjöstrand camping. Although I savor the fantastic showers, it is a distinct contrast to the previous night. I choose 2 pitches in front of the lake, take a bath and take care of Hector’s energy / water / toilet equipment and wait for the rest of the gang.

In the evening I meet a friend and her entire family and we share a diverting evening together.

The next day we part. The high-five-family moves Eastern while I head off to Northern regions. After loosing an hour in Falkenberg (un-inviting parking pitch, over-regulated square camping) I continue until I find a wonderful parking at the beach of Frillesås. For 100,- SEK per night Hector is invited to stare at the sea for endless hours.

I end up with pretty nice campers from the mobile next door with wine, wind and a wonderful sunset. Despite the wine I am up for jogging early the next morning with a bath in the fresh sea substituting the shower.

Once more I spent the night without service and I slightly remark the tendency to escape the regular peer group of super-organized camp sites. The off-service parking pitches are much more relaxed and most of the time they offer much better views than hedge fenced campings could ever do.

P.S.: The wild camping experience was great. I have to admit that I slept a bit more restive than I usually do, but it was okay and I would do it all over again. The Swedish “Allemansrätt” should be extended worldwide!

One of the few things I had planned for my Sweden holiday was: stay at least one night in pure nature, just wild and free. Now, after the Hällevik Jazz Festival with music and dancing and all the fun, I feel the need for some tranquillity. First try goes to Bolmen where I end up on a little camp site. Yes, it is calm, but still it is a camp site next to a small harbour.

On Monday I start fresh like the cold morning, motivated by sunny jogging routine and a chat with Thomas from Berlin. He stays with his family in a house that is almost, but not entirely off-the-lake and sympathizes with the idea of a flexible camper van. Let’s give him a good reason for it.

My map indicates a “badplats” that is just a bit south of Torpa. First we reach a little beach accompanied by shady parking among the trees. Then I see that 350m down the dirt road is a landing place for small boats, coming along with a rusty barbecue, a round table and perfect space for Hector!

We settle down and I spend a lazy day with a swim in the lake, barbecue and sunbathing. Once in a while tourists (and once: Swedish inhabitants & boat owners) pass by, but most of the time it is exactly what I was looking for: calm.

I enjoy grilled steaks, cold beer and good books. In fact, most of the time passes by with no action at all and that is what I came here for. I feel comfortable but wonder how this will develop around nightfall. Will I be a Sissy with nervous reaction on every natural sound (true for mosquito noise, by the way)? Or will I pass a wonderful night, all cosy inside my Super-Hector?

Tomorrow we will see…

 

After two days in Eringsboda, it is time to move on. In Hällevik happens a jazz festival. With Swing Jazz. They even mention Lindy Hop on their website! The case is clear: we know where to go.

Being the direct opposite to the Côte d’Azur, Sweden is not even overcrowded in time of events. Consequently, I find a nice spot at the local camp site with no difficulty at all. It only takes 1.000 meters to walk to the festival, but as I rather use my new fantastic folded bicycle, it takes me 2.500m each time (based on short cuts or hidden passages).

Even though 10°C plus would be nice, the weather remains stable throughout the festival weekend. And although 35 years less would be nice, I am surrounded by friendly people that smile politely at my Swedish language approaches.

The first evening brings disillusion: although filled with people and good music, nobody moves. They all sit and listen, full stop. Being a prominent dancing chick, this behaviour irritates me quite a bit. After 4 or 5 different bands in different locations, I finally manage to find the dance floor that has been built next to the stage of the festival tent. With relief I spot a handful people dancing, finally! No Lindy Hop or Boogie, but still. I push my way through walking frames and perms and roll up the dance floor.

Saturday is even better: during daytime I stroll around, sit here and there, eat and drink and listen to a couple of finest jazz bands. In the evening, I choose “Gunhild Carling”, not being aware of them being sort of famous in here. Fact is that they know how to bring up a great atmosphere and within seconds the little dance floor is populated with the right kind of people. Just minutes after I posted “Desperately Seeking Lindy Hoppers” on the festival’s Instagram site, I finally found Sweden’s dancing scene. The universe knows how to grant wishes and how to make a party!

After two days at the festival, I know a bit more about the world beyond my borders:

• The prices of Swedish camp sites are in reverse proportion to their sanitary rooms.
• I really should learn how to dance more extroverted. Perhaps some tattoos would help…

 

Six hours on the ocean and Hector proudly announces that he knows how to swim open waters. I see the need for some discussions coming up, but for today I drop it and rather look for our first Swedish home base.

I choose Simrishamn with a sea side camping. Catching the pitch closest to the beach (with grass, low pines and a mini golf course in between), Hector is probably the most South-Eastern point of entire Sweden these days.

The first hours seem to confirm pessimistic Scandinavian insect predictions: thousands and millions of tiny bugs fly around, covering 1/3 of my shirt, falling in my neckline and in my drinks and they ANNOY ME!!

After a quick impression of Simrishamn down-town, I learn two things:
a) Sirimshamn is quiet. Very quiet. Boring might be even more true.
b) The black mini bugs do not like the beach (and the sand flies are less obtrusive).

The next day is fine for bug-free jogging, as long as you are done by 8:00am that is. Afterwards, I am queen of the beach, having it – in spite of the well-populated camp site – all on my own for hours.

After the sports-beach-relaxation day at Simrishamn, Hector is keen on seeing more of the country. We head off to Ronneby and easily find parking slots at the Brunnsparken. It is described as “the most beatiful of parks” and offers a tourist train, cafés and beds of roses as well as pure nature with endless forest, lakes and hilly grounds.

The area is huge and I am glad that today is not Sunday: due to a short & successful stop at a small antique shop along the way, my vacation fund would not take further shopping excesses at the flea market that occurs weekly in the pillared meeting place of Brunshallarna.

In the afternoon we arrive at Eringsboda and Hector settles down in front of my uncle’s holiday house.

Accompanied by my cousin we use the fantastic weather for a swim in one of the lakes close by. The water temperature had been measured with 19°C while the more you jump in the warmer it feels.

I spend two nights in my uncle’s garden with seasoned prunes falling directly from the tree into my muesli and with touristic impressions that are above all: relaxing.

It is Saturday evening when Hector is finally over-equipped and ready to go North. The batteries are fully charged, the water tank is filled with 40 l of best Munich water and the refrigerator with prepared food, summer beer and whatever it takes to survive in the wilderness.

Around nightfall we reach the Parkschloss in the South of Leipzig: although filled with campers and regular cars, the friendly groundkeeper offers me a nice spot at the edge. With no service (no toilets, no showers, no electricity nor water) Hector is the star of the day, offering all luxury I could ask for.

Mornings start best with fresh coffee, but my gas cooker in the kitchen remains silent. No typical sound from running gas, no flame, no spark, just: silence. When I turn round, I see the fridge’s light blink. On, off, on, off, on, off… Obviously, my refrigerator’s gas consumption does not meet my expectations – the 1^st gas bottle is empty after 2x heating (Dolomites) + 3x cooling. With three weeks yet to come Hector and I agree on gas-cooling only in case of emergency, for instance when the volume of white whine exceeds the maximum of daily consumption.

Being the most flexible camper girl, I prepare coffee on the outdoor cooker before jogging through the agra Park of Dölitz. Good that I have had my portion of daily movement, keeping me at ease through the upcoming traffic jams. Note to myself: Remember to travel German highways between 18:00 and 7:00 only.

The afternoon welcomes me with blue sky at Warnemünde and Hector finds a nice pitch in front of a super mega incredible cruise ship.

Facilities are repeating yesterday’s theme: nothing. It only takes 20 seconds to relocate the folded bicycle beside the couch and free my way into my private bath room. As long as you call 45 square centimetres a room…

I stroll around the harbour, the restaurants and thousands of tourists before I finally reach the beach. The plan is to toe-test the water temperature and then go for some coffee and prepare the following travel day. The facts are different and they are called Christian and Nico.

Shyly I ask them to take a picture and five minutes later I have a beer in my hand and we share decent conversations about the measurement of the world. Later, the sea is irresistible – who needs a shower when you can jump into the ocean? The water is wonderful and with the beach being half empty, no one cares about missing bathing suits or social conventions.

Around the third beer, the idea of spontaneous travelling brings up the suggestion of extended travel groups (Hector, me + 1 further), just for the fun of it. Although I am not aware of it by now, I will smile the next day when I find out that the ticket-traveller-controls at the ferry are hilarious: nobody would have noticed additional persons hidden in the bathroom. Let’s think it through: a tall man hiding inside Hectors tiny bathroom, sharing the few cubic centimetres with the bicycle… in fact, the risk of hidden passengers is limited to Houdini.

Back home, Hector and I watch the cruisers coast into the ocean, wondering why anyone might need a 4-spiral-toboggan on top of a ship. After a short night, our day starts at 5:15 with bright sun, calm sea and the ferry to Sweden (without toboggan).

As soon as Hector has Swedish ground under his tires, we learn more about our equipment: my tomtom Navi does not contain Swedish maps. If not for beer and swimming and dinner invitation, I would have checked out some destinations just the other day, but as things have developed in their own (best) way, I am fine with improvisation. The offline-on-paper-maps I had bought in March offer reliable information and I find today’s campsite without difficulties.

For today, I am done with travelling – tired, happy and perfect dinner to local mosquitoes.

 

“I want to be the star of the show! And I want it to be a big show!” See what happens when the last serious holidays are long gone and the van becomes impatient.

Yes, we have been to the dolomites. Yes, there have been hiking short trips to the Alps. But a real tour, let me think, the last one ended in June 2016 after surfing France’s west coast. By now, we are desperately counting down the remaining days until we head off to Sweden. The house sitters are organized (great to have home-seeking friends), we bought a travel book and a map for south Sweden and the ferries are booked since March. Now it is time to pack and leave.

Due to a lack of time the preparation so far has been limited to the facts above. Now I start thinking about: What will I do there? Where will I go? I have a vague idea of “beautiful nature” and thousands of blue shimmering lakes. Oh, and I ordered a mosquito net the other day, just in case… Hector, sure enough, does not care too much about details. He is more the “tiger in the tank” type and takes off without clear destination basically following the sun. Thus, I will let loose and see later about the where and the how and the holiday action.

The packing includes long & short + warm & cold clothing, the skateboard, jogging shoes and two and a half bikinis. Fresh water, pasta, potatoes and a pound of coffee will follow right before leaving. I think this will do for most spontaneous ideas that might come up…