Wending Our Way Through Windy Southern Sweden

After six days of cycling, we’re properly underway and starting to get into the rhythm of life on the road. From Malmo, we’ve gone around the southern coast of Sweden and we’re now slowly heading up the eastern coast towards Stockholm. 

Biking out of Malmo on the first day, we were passing through undulating rural farming land. Much was with a tail wind and we were breezing along at a good clip. We took a cross-country route to the southern coast with a lunch stop once we’d reached a little port. There, we were approached by Kenneth, a journalist based in Uppsala, who was writing a magazine article on the cycling attractions of the area. He was intrigued by our story and took notes and photos - we may soon become famous.

Tall poppy

Our first night of camping at Ystad seems to have set the scene for our camping experience. We paid 365SEK (c. 63NZD) for a little tent site in a far-distance corner, bounded by a busy road, of a massive campground which catered almost exclusively for caravans and camper vans. And it was an extra 5SEK for each 4-minute shower. We’ve camped now at six sites and all but one have been of a similar ilk. It seems that most of the caravans at these sites have become static homes - with massive awnings (at least as big as the caravan itself), all stuffed with most normal household trappings, fenced off with a wind shelter enclosing an outdoor eating area, BBQ, etc. All very suburban. Having said all that, the campgrounds are spotlessly clean and most have kitchen facilities any home would be proud to have. The one exception so far was a little campsite on the coast which appears to be owned by the local community, with income used to support the local kids’ football team. We paid 200SEK in cash in an honesty box. We were one of about four inhabitants for the night in a wooded area and enjoyed a lovely meal at a picnic table overlooking the sea. Much more our sort of place.

Camping Swedish style

Campground kitchen with all mod cons (three fridge-freezers behind me)

Two of our few fellow little tent campers at one site were Julius and Eva, a young couple from Lithuania. They were on a round-Europe tour in their car that they were progressively stuffing with purchases from second-hand stores - including four(!) bread slicers. Julius told us that, having set up his own business repairing electronic equipment, he’d moved on to creating videos of himself cleaning electronic equipment (e.g. mobile phones, TV remotes, etc.) - not fixing, just cleaning. Apparently, there’s a demand for this. As he said himself: “super-niche”.

A feature of the trip so far has been the wind. It’s been windy pretty much every day, and surprisingly strong, too. Thankfully, it’s generally been in our favour - either from the side or behind, but every so often, our route directs us into it and progress slows rapidly. It’s a reminder that crawling up a hill, into a head wind, makes you question life choices as a touring cyclist…

Trolle-Ljungby Castle, complete with moat

Swedish countryside scenery (Julie’s pic)

While we’ve mostly been following our Komoot-generated route, one specific deviation was on Day 2, when we took in Ale’s Stenar; a ship-shaped arrangement of 59 standing stones on a clifftop overlooking the sea. The alignment is such that the sun rises along its alignment at the winter solstice and sets along it at the summer solstice. Another deviation - forced, this time - was after suddenly being confronted by a road barrier and warning signs: “…blah, blah, blah, ammunition, blah, blah, blah, projektiler, blah, blah, blah, livsfarligt…”.  Komoot had directed us to pass through an army live-weapons training area. Discretion called for a re-route.

Ale’s Stenar

Do not pass Go!

Much of our route has been on dedicated cycle paths, some on minor roads and only occasionally on paths alongside main roads. The surfaces have varied from (mostly) smooth seal, hard-packed gravel and sandy trails. Komoot has certainly taken us on some routes I wouldn’t have ever considered if working solely from a map. One key item of bike equipment we bought while in Denmark has been bells mounted on our handlebars. Although you wouldn’t be seen dead with one in NZ, they’re almost obligatory in Europe. Certainly, we’re using ours at least once every day now - essential while cycling along shared pathways when you come up to (so far) pedestrians walking two abreast, yummy mummies pushing prams, dog walkers, mobility scooters and golfers pushing trundlers.

Swedish seaside cycling

Quintessentially Swedish cottage (the Volvo was probably parked round the back)

The first few days saw us passing from one cute little port to another, then moving into an area of sandy beaches with holiday cottages, now we’re into forested areas with rounded granite outcrops and lakes of varying sizes. Just today, we passed a lake with a little jetty for swimming access, lakeside sauna, changing shelters, outdoor fire area and toilets - all looked very inviting, even though seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

Lakeside sauna

We’re enjoying the novelty of going into foreign supermarkets again - trying to work out what the exotic-looking foodstuffs are and searching out more familiar foods for our meals. Rye bread, rye crackers, herrings in dill and mustard sauces and yoghurt are all featuring… mmm! We know we’re back in the land of cheese in tubes, flavoured with a wide range of odd combinations - browned butter, anyone?

Pick n’ mix cheeses in a tube

Another little observation is the prevalence of automatic lawnmowers that we’ve seen. Initially, it was a little disconcerting to spy an animal prowling around a suburban lawn, only to realise it’s a lawnmower doing its thing. We’ve even seen one mowing the grass in the middle of a busy roundabout - not sure how long it would last in NZ or the UK. 

A couple of days ago, we set off from our campsite and, after an hour or so, were on the lookout for a cafe/bakery for a mid-morning stop. This is a routine from past European cycling holidays that we‘ve re-established. On this particular day, we entered a town (a godforsaken place which won’t be named) and singularly failed to find a single cafe, even after asking a couple of locals. We eventually went back to the big supermarket on the outskirts of town which we’d passed earlier, bought a couple of pastries and then sat in little seating area near the entrance, drinking coffee purchased from the kiosk and eating our pastries. The only other occupant of the area was a local down-and-out, who was surreptitiously filling his paper cup from a can under his table. Then, a normal-looking shopper came into the area and sat down behind us. And pulled out a cabbage head which he studied intently for a moment. And then took a big bite into it. And sat studiously chomping his way through his cabbage. Definitely time to get back on our bikes…

Lunch stop at old salmon traps site, Morrum

We’ve timed our trip with midsummer, which has been an important time of year in Sweden for centuries. Midsummer’s Eve features celebrations around garlanded maypoles, many of the womenfolk adorned with floral tiaras and either white or floral dresses. New potatoes and strawberries are a feature of meals at family gatherings. It appears that many people choose to go camping at midsummer weekend and the campsites have been really busy over the last few days (we got turned away form one campsite - they don’t cater for little tents…). It’s a weekend of celebrations and a lot of alcohol seems to be consumed. Thankfully, the nights haven’t been too rowdy, which is a relief, because we’ve typically been in bed by 9:30PM. Since it’s light for so much of the time, it does get a bit difficult to work out the time without looking at a watch. A couple of days ago, I had a very pleasant wake-up call from a cuckoo - until I checked the time and found it was 4:20AM.

Seaside scenery on Midsummer’s Eve

Something we’ve noticed is that fellow cyclists (and pedestrians) are not in the slightest interested in us. While we know road cyclists consider us as unworthies, when we pass pedestrians or cyclists on town bikes, there’s a deliberate ‘look straight ahead’ face on them. At best, we might get a grim-faced “hej” from them, but virtually never anything approaching a smile. Even touring cyclists - usually gregarious members of our tribe - might only raise a quick hand while passing. More generally, I doubt ‘happy go lucky’ is in the Swedish lexicon.

Swedish road sign - as name-checked by the Swedish Chef

I’ll finish this post with another observation. Although never an issue during past trips, we’re now recognising a new phobia, akin to the range anxiety experienced by electric car-owners: ‘charge anxiety’. Our smart phones have become indispensable for travelling - route finding, location positioning, internet checks for locating accommodation/shops, money transfers, communications, news updates, etc. Consequently, we’re always hyper-alert to the battery status of our phones and, often as not, on the lookout for electrical sockets for recharging. As I’m finding, the Komoot app pulls a lot of power, so I’ve taken to switching off my phone while cycling and only checking it when route changes are pending. Certainly, even when off, I’m finding it takes a good 20 - 30 minutes to regain a single percentage in battery level with my dynohub. I’m now realising the true value of electrical supplies. And, having said that, I’m now going to disconnect my electronics from the cafe where I’ve been sitting for the last couple of hours and get onto making supper and checking if our washing is dry.

A common sight in our lives now - charging station at campground kitchen socket

Short cycling day = washing day!