Guest Post #1: Hiking the Sörmlandstrail (episode 1)

Go here for the photo album without narration

The snow was mostly melted, the frosty air had given way to a chilly breeze (warmth is relative!), and the ground was much too solid for the gardener's trowel. Hiking plans were forged, maps were printed, soup was cooked and poured into a thermos, the GPS unit was charged, and we were ready to face the first of many sections of Sörmlandsleden: the Trail of the South Man Land.

Placenames sound pretty cool when translated literally.

We (Jessica, our dog Björn, and myself) took a train to Flen and followed signs from the train station towards the trailhead. The landscape in and around town was fairly hilly, with many exposed granite buttes and boulders, so we were excited to get started. It was nearly noon when we reached the trailhead.

Being overconfident as we always were, we calculated 20 km (12.5 miles) to our destination, and about 6 hours of good daylight (7 hours before the train that would bring us home left). That equates to "easy", in our book, so we started off at a relaxed pace and enjoyed the surroundings.

The recent thaw left the boulders embedded in the trail oddly sunken, probably the results from expanding water ice which subsequently melted away. Interesting effects, whatever the cause!

We soon encountered an enormous pile of boulders, left there by a long-gone glacier from the last ice age. It had delightful cracks and crevasses, ideal for wild animals to use for shelter or to hide from predators. I'm glad we did not encounter a wolverine (järv) there, because a human with our feeble fingernails and teeth would stand no chance against the fearsome claws and bone-crunching jaws of these creatures. Very glad, indeed.

Having exhausted the entertainment options offered by the boulders, we carried on with the hike, realizing our average pace was significantly lower than anticipated. That's fine, we still had plenty of time! As long as we pick up the pace a little, that is.






Picking up the pace is difficult when there are so many enticing distractions. For example, in one instance we turned right when we should have turned left. We quickly realized our mistake and turned back, and were surprised by a giant Ubo ubo, the Eurasian Eagle Owl, probably the largest bird found in Sweden. It made a slight noise when it dropped from its perch about 5 meters ahead of us and 5 meters above our heads, which is what caught our attention. Its camouflage was so good that we had passed right under it without noticing. Its nearly 2-meter wingspan scarcely made a noise as it swooped over our heads and turned into the forest. Stunning. To my great dismay, I was unable to take a photo of the animal.

Look at these frozen lakes, sprinkled amidst the now-verdant forest. The melting ice painted convoluted  patterns in psychedelic monochrome. Look closer, and you realize there's a galaxy of tiny worlds hiding within - secret constellations of suspended bubbles were responsible for the varying shades and textures of the lake.

At this point, we started to realize that 20km was not a realistic approximation of our hiking distance. It would be closer to 25, and our average pace would put us at our destination long after dark. Stupid, stupid hikers, we were! Rest stops were ruled out, food and drink could wait. We had to move.

But wait! These frozen marshes offered such a cheerful alternative to the inky black waters to which they would return in only a few short weeks. Treacherous pools were a pristine white, and solid through and through. They brightened up the forest like beacons. Remarkable!





Still we pressed on. My GPS-enabled phone reported our pace, and we pushed and we pushed until it told us we were doing alright. I checked our progress by comparing our position with landmarks I had copied down previously, on a morning that now seemed very distant. How far is 0.02 degrees, again? Can we make that in an hour? Mental arithmetic kept me sane, while wife and dog plodded on breathlessly behind me.

Finally, we reached our destination - a village with gunpowder mines and a trainstation. It took an additional 2 kilometers to reach this trainstation, because the village roads were apparently designed by the village idiot. No matter, we had reached the platform with our tickets in hand, and finally unscrewed that thermos of soup.






It was heavenly.