Travels Continued 18

 

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 03, 2023   

Magical Svartlöga

It has become a fixed tradition that Carl and I join his aunt Eva at her cozy cabin out in the archipelago on the island of Svartlöga för a late summer weekend complete with crawfish feast, and this year was no exception.  This year’s trip, however, was exceptional with unusually warm and sunny weather despite the relatively late date.  It was so warm that we could sit outside on the deck of the ferry for the entire four hour journey, both to the island and home again.  So lovely to sit and read and gaze as the islands floated by and the sun sank into the horizon. 

It was also warm enough that we all swam on both Saturday and Sunday!  The water was refreshingly cold (unsurprising) but the air was warm enough to sit out and air dry (quite unusual).  

 
When we weren’t feasting or swimming, we spent much of the weekend walking about the island’s forests and sitting by the water.  We found a good number of mushrooms in the forests—a much better showing than the past few years but not the crazy abundant amounts that we found the first couple of years we visited Eva on Svartlöga.  Many of the mushrooms found their way into an appetizer and a lunch on the island; we took the remaining mushrooms home for a delicious soup and to dry and save for later.   

As always, it was a wonderful weekend on Svartlöga, but this year was extra special with the unusually warm and sunny weather.  Thank you Eva for such a magical visit!

 

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 05, 2023   

Visiting Family and Friends in Rochester

About 36 hours after getting home from the Dolomites, I got on another plane and flew to Rochester NY.  Unlike last year, my flights went smoothly and I arrived on time.  Mom and Carol were at the airport to greet me, and it was so good to see them!  As usual, it took me a few days to get over the jetlag, but I didn’t suffer from jetlag insomnia on this trip which was a huge relief.

Like last year, I stayed in a cute apartment in a beautiful house in a lovely, walkable neighborhood, but it was a different apartment and a different neighborhood.  

I really enjoyed getting to know my new (fancier) neighborhood on my morning walks (my knees were still aching far too much from the Dolomites to even consider running).  Among other wealthy residents, the neighborhood was home to George Eastman, founder of Kodak.  The houses lining Eastman’s street were all large mansions, 

The George Eastman house on the left and another mansion on the main fancy street on the right.

but the houses got smaller the further off this main drag I walked.  

slightly smaller hosues about a block from the fancy street

 Even so, the smallest houses in the area were fairly large and elaborate.  

"regular" houses several blocks from the fancy street

Most of the houses were historically inspired (Tudors, Queen Anne, Colonial, Italianate), but there was a Frank Lloyd Wright house in the neighborhood!  

The neighborhood was also very green with mature trees lining the streets, and I enjoyed the trees almost as much as the houses.  

Mom and I enjoyed several fun excursions during my visit.  One beautifully sunny but miraculously not hot day we walked to the end of a very long pier jutting into Lake Ontario 

and then rode a historical carousel.  What I loved most about the carousel was that while it did have traditional horses, many of the seats were rabbits, lions, reindeer, giraffes, and even ostriches!  A ticket for the carousel costs a grand total of $1.   

 
Another day we visited Ganondagan State Historic Site which was the site of a large Seneca village (about 4000 residents and 150 longhouses if I’m remembering the numbers correctly) before it was destroyed by the French in the 1600’s.  There are no visible signs of the Native American village today, but there’s a great museum with archeological finds and lots of information putting the site into context as well as a reconstructed longhouse.  I found the Seneca longhouse fascinating because in many aspects it was very similar to Viking longhouses.  Viking longhouses were built of stone and waddle and daub while the Seneca longhouses were covered in bark, but the shape, size, and structure were very similar.  Also similar was the concept that the entire clan lived in the same longhouse.  The interior layout was even similar with bunks around the periphery and cooking fires in the middle.  Neither Vikings nor the Seneca had chimneys; the smoke rose up and out through a smoke hole in the roof.   

Mom and I also drove out to Pittsford, a very scenic small town in the area.  We didn’t have a ton of time and the town deserves another visit (there’s an independent bookstore to browse!), but we did enjoy some ice cream at the farm dairy.  Oh Americana, too cute for words!  

My Uncle Bill came to visit for a few days during my time in Rochester.  It had been fourteen years since I saw him last, so it was really great to see him and catch up.  I wish that we had been able to see the rest of my uncle’s family, too, but alas, life is complicated!  Hopefully another time.  During my uncle’s visit, we tried several of Rochester’s culinary specialties including fish fry Friday and red hots (a type of hot dog).  We also stopped at a farm stand one day and picked up the best corn on the cob that I have eaten in a VERY long time.  The red hots and corn were enjoyed during a lovely backyard bbq that Carol hosted so that my uncle and I could visit with Carol’s family and Carol and Mom’s friends, all of whom help to take care of my mom.  So nice to see everyone and to get to know them a bit better.   

One day we all went on a drive west to visit my grandparents’ and great grandparents’ graves in Albion, and on the way home, we drove by the house that my grandparents lovingly restored and that my mom and uncles lived in for several years.  It was so sad to see how badly the house has deteriorated since my family sold it.

Another day, my uncle, mom and I took a walk in the nearby Tinker Nature Park.  Mom and I walked at Tinker last summer, too, so it is becoming a family tradition to visit this little jewel of a nature reserve.     

The day that my uncle returned home, I drove out toward Albion and visited my childhood friend Elissa, her family, and her parents at her parents’ lake house.  I had such a fun time seeing their summer paradise, cruising the lake, and catching up on the last 20 years of life.  There’s so much more to catch up on, though; an afternoon is just not enough!  Also, I wish that I had remembered this before I made all of these plans for my visit, but Elissa’s dad knew my uncles in high school!  It’s such a small world sometimes.  I would have loved to have my uncle and Elissa’s dad meet again, too.      

Despite never having lived in New York myself, I came to realize that if anywhere in the US is “home,” or if I am “rooted” to anywhere in the US, upstate New York just might be the place.  It’s amazing how life cycles around on itself like a dog chasing its tail, and how I and my family have cycled through this area during various periods of our lives, over more than 50 years (well more like 250 years if I include my dad’s family).  It’s unlikely that Carl and I are ever going to permanently leave Sweden, but I have really come to appreciate the picturesqueness, the small-worldness, and the slightly less expensive and complicated daily life of upstate New York’s small towns.

My visit was over much too soon, and before I knew it it was time to cross back over the Atlantic again.  Back at home, I had four lazy days to recover from jetlag before I had to return to work.  All in all, I was on vacation for four consecutive weeks!  It’s not an unusually long summer vacation for Sweden, but I’ve never taken that much consecutive time off before.  I could get used to it...  It was especially nice to be mostly recovered from jetlag before returning to work—usually I am back at work only a few hours after landing, which is just awful.     

My Rochester trip was short but so very sweet.  It was so lovely to see my mom, and Carol, and my uncle, and Elissa and her family.  Thank you to everyone for everything, hugs!

Dahlias in Carol's garden

         

SATURDAY, AUGUST 19, 2023   

The Dolomites: Hiking the Alta Via 4 + Via Ferrate

For summer vacation this year, Carl and I headed south to northern Italy to hike in the Dolomites, a geologically distinct region of the Alps.  The Dolomites extend into Austria and Slovenia, but Italy has the lion’s share of this incredible range and there are six long-distance high-altitude trails crossing the Italian part of the range from north to south.  We hiked Alta Via 4, or High Route 4, from San Candido/Innichen to Pieve di Cadore.  Because the hike is only about a week long and we had two weeks, we added several extra loops and side hikes to our itinerary.    

Hiking in the Dolomites has been on my bucket list since before we moved to Europe, but two factors made us hesitate to plan our Dolomite adventure: first of all, the hike is expensive because you’re not allowed to camp and have to stay in mountain huts.  Secondly, the weather is better and the trails and huts are less crowded in September, but my office enforces vacation in July, making September vacations hard to arrange.  After living in Stockholm for 12 years, we finally decided to just do it: even though the trip was going to be relatively expensive, and even though we wouldn’t be able to manage the absolute best timing, we decided that we should just do the trip lest god forbid we have a bad accident or grow too old for such an intense hike.

And yes indeed, this was an intense hike.  Despite relatively short daily distances and despite my especially good physical condition at the time, this was the toughest hike I have ever been on.  And that’s saying a lot.  The elevation was relatively high and there was a LOT of elevation gain and loss, but the factor that made the hike extra tough was that it incorporated a number of Via Ferrate, or Iron Routes.  Via Ferrate are extremely exposed hiking trails and climbing routes with permanently placed protection in the form of wires to clip into as well as ladders, rungs, and bridges to make the trails accessible to non-climbers.  I found both the exposure and the climbing to be quite hard, especially with a backpack.

Wire protection and ladders, rungs, bridges, and pegs help make the via ferrate routes accesible to non-climbers.

My saving grace was that because we stayed in refugios, we didn’t have to carry camping gear or food, so our packs were relatively small and light for a two-week trek.  If my pack had been bigger or heavier, I’m not sure I would have been able to do a lot of the climbing.  However, I still found my pack to be bulky and heavy while climbing and had trouble with it on the hardest sections.  Carl was my other saving grace: not only did he coach me through the toughest parts (“right foot here, left hand there”), but he also carried my pack when I just couldn’t manage it.  That meant that Carl first did these sections with his own backpack and dropped it at the top, climbed back down packless to retrieve mine, and then climbed back up with my pack.  I was struggling to do certain sections once, and Carl did them thrice!

A number of Via Ferrata sections were required in order to follow Alta Via from point A to B, but our extra loops also included a number of Via Ferrate meaning that we had to do almost all of the Via Ferrate with our full backpacks.  In hindsight, I think that the better strategy would have been to do the extra Via Ferrate as dayhikes from the huts so that we could leave our packs at the huts.  Now we know for next time.    

While I found the climbing physically and mentally exhausting, I didn’t have too many problems going up.  Downclimbing, however, was really, really challenging.  It is really difficult to climb down in a controlled manner, especially when you can’t see your feet or any of the footholds below you.  This is where Carl’s coaching of “right foot here, left hand there” really saved me.

My other major challenge with the Via Ferrate were the bits in between the protected sections.  The wire protection would just suddenly end and you’d be on your own to make it safely to the next wire section.  Sometimes these sections were lofty but not too dangerous, but other sections felt really sketchy to me.  Many of these unprotected sections were in gullies where any wires would get destroyed with every major rain and resulting landslide, so I understand why they weren’t protected, but these unstable, unprotected sections were a glaring breach in an otherwise safe-feeling system.  These sections felt so sketchy that we were too nervous to even stop to photograph them.   

 

Distances are generally not posted in the Alps.  Instead, the more informational trail signs will give times (for example, 3 hours 20 minutes to X Hut), though many signs only point you in the right direction without giving you an idea of how far your destination is.  We found that we hiked the trails somewhat faster than the posted times, even on the toughest uphill slogs.  However, because I found the Via Ferrate so challenging, most of these sections took us 50% longer than in the guidebooks and one particularly hard day took two or three times longer than average.  In my defense, this Via Ferrata was marked as “difficult” while none of the other Via Ferrate had posted difficulty grades.  But with a lot of help from Carl, I made it through, and we even arrived at our next hut before dinner.

 
There are an impressive number of mountain huts or refugios in the Dolomites.  Sometimes they’re about a day’s walk apart, but sometimes there are several within an hour’s walk.  Some refugios were built as accommodation for mountain hikers and climbers while others began as farms which eventually started catering to tourists.  Still others are converted army barracks.  Today, most of the refugios we encountered are owned and run by multi-generational families, and some of these families have been manning their refugio for generations.  Some other refugios seem to be run by young rock rats and outdoorsy college kids.  

Refugios Comici and San Marco.  All of the huts were spectactularly sited.

 
Accommodation in the refugios is generally in bunkrooms with six to twenty beds per room.  There are a few private double rooms here and there, but there aren’t many and they get booked up first.  We booked our July trip in February, but already several of the refugios were fully booked and we had to rearrange our itinerary somewhat.  However, we did luck out and get a double room for two of our fourteen nights in the refugios.  These evenings felt extremely lavish!  Mattresses, blankets and pillows are provided in the regugios, so you don’t have to carry a sleeping pad or bag, only a sleeping sheet.  In many of the refugios the blankets are even fluffy down, an incredible luxury in the wilderness!  

The refugios provide meals with your lodging—a full, three-course dinner plus a continental breakfast.  One of the fundamental experiences of staying in the huts is conversing at dinner with your fellow hut mates.  We sat with people from all over Europe and compared notes about our experiences in the Dolomites as well as other hiking experiences all over the globe.  I was very inspired by a couple of the people we met.

For lunch, you can ask for a sandwich to go or stop in another refugio.  There’s always afternoon dessert to be had, too, and Carl and I imbibed a number of apple strudels as well as other delicacies.  Being Italy, beer is on tap after a long day of hiking, wine accompanies dinner, and homemade flavored grappas make a fine sunset drink.  Each hut had its own range of grappa offerings and we tried an apricot, a fennel, an orange coffee, and a lemon sage grappa.  My favorite was definitely the lemon sage.  The refugios all of course had fancy espresso machines and served the whole line of Italian coffees as well as hot chocolate, and I was excited to find decaf cappuccino in a number of huts.  

How does all of this food and wine and cappuccino get up to mountain huts?  In Sweden most of the supplies gets driven in in the winter on sleighs behind snowmobiles, but given the steepness of the mountains, that wouldn’t be doable in the Dolomites.  Each refugio has its own system.  Some of the huts are accessible on private jeep roads, so the supplies get driven in.  Other huts have trails that are relatively accessible to tractors, so the supplies get driven in on trailers behind a tractor, and hiked in when the trail conditions are too bad.  Some huts that sit high above a road have a small cable car for wrenching supplies up the steep slopes.  Other huts are so remote that they are only supplied by helicopters.  One hut was supplied by donkeys, and there were even donkeys grazing in the grass when we arrived. 

A heavily laden tractor on its way to Refugio Plan di Cengia and donkeys outside of Refugio Comici.

 
The northern part of Alta Via 4 was Austrian before WWI while the southern part of Alta Via 4 was solidly in Italy, and the refugio food reflected this history.  Dishes in the north were based on the Tyrolean kitchen with dishes like knödel dumplings swimming in melted butter or broth, deer sausage, and grey cheese served with raw onions and vinegar.  Further south, dishes were more Italian with pesto and ragu pastas, gnoccis with various toppings, minestrone vegetable soups, and whole grain polenta smothered in melted cheese.  Breakfasts were generally less interesting but several huts did serve freshly baked homemade bread and one hut served freshly baked apricot and chocolate croissants, yum!  Needless to say we never went hungry on this trip.

The refugios were surprisingly modern.  I wasn’t expecting much electricity or the ability to charge electronic devices.  But electricity provided by solar cells and by diesel generators was almost constant, cutting out only occasionally.  A couple of huts even had wifi!  All of the huts had running water and flush toilets, and most of them also had showers.  Water is a precious commodity so the showers were fairly expensive and had set volumes, but we were both able to take full showers with only 30 liters (8 gallons) divided between us.  The water wasn’t always hot but it was still nice to rinse off the grime and the sunscreen.  A few of the huts accepted credit cards, but most of them only accept cash.  Needless to say, we were hiking around with a lot of cash in our packs because there aren’t exactly any ATMs along the alta via.  We were very careful not to leave our cash in the dorm rooms unattended.   

You leave your hiking boots by the door at all refugios.

In addition to the full-service refugios, there are a number of unmanned bivouacs.  The ones we passed were all the same model: a steel bubble anchored to the ground with an impressively compact nine bunkbeds.  The bivouacs were unfortunately quite rundown, but in an emergency they would be a welcome shelter.  One of them, however, was falling down the mountain, so I’m extra glad that we didn’t need to seek shelter there.

Bivacco Agnesl de Toni and Bivacco Vandelli

 

As I mentioned above, the northern part of the Italian Dolomites was part of Austria until WWI—this part of Austrian Tyrol was won by Italy during the war. In fact, my understanding is that Italy entered the war on the side of the Triple Entente primarily in order to gain this piece of strategic territory.  The Dolomites in of themselves weren’t so important to either side, but control of the Dolomite passes was the key to keeping Austria out of the Veneto and out of the Adriatic Sea.   
 
Being in the mountains, the Italian Front was the highest of WWI, and the highest trench was at 3905m (12810 ft), and there were even army tunnels dug into glaciers!  Fighting and supply were extra complicated in the mountains due to the elevation and the weather.  In fact, more men died of exposure and avalanches in the “White War” than of battle.  In order to make the mountains accessible to “regular” soldiers, both sides created Via Ferrate with wires, ladders, and rungs which made the climbing much safer and much easier.  Today’s Via Ferrate are updated versions of these war routes.

While many trenches were dug and built into the mountainsides, many of the fighting positions were bored into the rock.  This offered protection from ammunition and from the weather.  Some were small “caves” dug into the face of the rock while others were long tunnels inside the mountains.  Many of these tunnels are still incorporated into today’s Via Ferrate, and one tunnel we hiked through was over 300m (1000 ft) long! 

Other visible remnants of the war include random concrete platforms and rolls of rusty barbed wire scattered about the mountainsides.  We also saw numerous ruined buildings dating back to the war, 

and one large barrack has been maintained as a refugio.

All of the visible traces from WWI turned my thoughts to my grandfather who passed right through this area during WWII on his march from Egypt, across the Mediterranean, up through Italy, over the Alps, and into Germany.  My grandfather didn’t talk about the war much and none of the family knows any details about this time in his life.  I wish I knew more.  

The area’s dual Italian/Austrian heritage means that everything in the region has two names, one in Italian and the other in German.  Some of the names are similar like Sesto and Sexten but many of the names are completely different like San Candido and Innichen.  The mountains, rivers, valleys, and even the refugios have two names.  This makes conversing about the area difficult and confusing.  Many hiking signs had both names, but some of the signs only had one name.  Note that I’ve used the Italian names below.  

Language is also a bit of a challenge.  The people in the formerly Austrian areas still speak German as their native language, and we weren’t sure whether we should address people in in German or in Italian (not that we speak so impressively much of those languages!).  After a while we figured out that pretty much everyone and everything (menus etc) are in German in the north and in Italian a little further south.  Like the food, the language became more and more Italian the further south we hiked.                                

We knew that July wasn’t the ideal time to hike in the Dolomites, but because of my job, we didn’t have much choice.  The weather didn’t end up being totally terrible, but it did rain, hail, thunder, and lightning a good deal, many peaks were often shrouded in clouds, the mountain views were often hazy, and we had several foggy days where we saw very little.  The unstable weather made long days chancy since there’s often a thunderstorm in the afternoons.  We tried to get off the passes and peaks by mid-afternoon and we did manage to avoid many drenching downpours, though we weren’t always successful.  

In fact, one of my most vivid memories of the trip was getting stuck in a raging thunderstorm one afternoon in the middle of a via ferrata climb.  The weather had been beautiful, but all of a sudden the clouds rolled in and we could hear thunder approaching.  We climbed faster and faster as it started to sprinkle in a desperate and futile attempt to complete the climb before the storm raced in.  We came to a flat section of overhanging rock at the same moment that the skies opened up in a downpour.  Still clipped in to the wire, we sat on the ground and huddled under the overhang.  We put on our rain gear (very tricky to do over a harness and while clipped into the wire) and when it became clear that the cold, windy storm was going to last a while, we dug hats, gloves, and our windsack out of our backpacks (our backpacks were also clipped to the wire so that they didn’t tumble off the edge of the cliff).  We huddled, shivering, and ate our lunch in the rain.

Waiting out the thunderstorm, clipped into the via ferrata wire.

In addition to the sound of the rain, hail, and thunder, we started to hear (and see) spontaneous waterfalls spewing down from the cliffs around us.  Next, we started to hear the sound of spraying pebbles.  Rivulets of water were gushing down the mountainsides, tossing pebbles downhill in their wake.  The sound of spraying rocks then gave way to the roar of a landslide as the gully of loose scree just across from us started moving downhill in one steady slide.  Shopping-cart sized boulders started bouncing down the gully, making deafening booms with every bounce.  The cacophony was so loud that we couldn’t hear each other despite sitting hip to hip.

We continued to huddle on our ledge, extremely grateful for our helmets and especially for the rock overhang which protected us from all of the falling rock.  However, we were extremely nervous because when the storm ended, we were going to have to cross the same gully that we were watching in a fifteen-minute long active landslide.  How long after the rain stopped and how long after the last falling boulder should we sit and wait before crossing the gully?  We wanted to wait as long as possible to give the gully time to drain and settle, but we didn’t want to wait so long that the next storm moved in before we could cross.  It was a nerve-wracking decision but we gave it about twenty minutes after the last bouncing boulder.  Like most other gullies, this one didn’t have any wire protection, making a fall here deadly.  But luckily, although it was a challenging and terrifying traverse across the extremely loose scree, we made it safely to the other side and could continue our climb up to the pass and beyond.            
 
Although the weather wasn’t as clear and beautiful as we had hoped, we did have a few gorgeous days with clear views and the views were impressive even when cloudy and hazy.  When the views were clear, we were extra excited and camera-trigger happy!  One weather-related aspect that we were happily surprised about was that the Dolomites were mosquito free.  I’ve never hiked without mosquitos before and it was amazing!  You can just sit outside without swatting, even in the evenings.  

Another positive side to hiking in July instead of September were the wildflowers.  The meadows were just covered in wildflowers, and I don’t think it would be exaggerating to say that we saw at least 50 species of flowers during our trip including the funky Edelweiss.  I don’t quite get the Austrian fascination with these flowers, to my eyes they’re more ugly duckling than national beauty.  My favorite flower grew among the rocks of the highest passes and peaks giving the desolate moonscapes a splash of happy yellow color.    

 
Day by Day
To get to the Dolomites, we flew to Venice.  We lucked out with clear views down to the Alps and then to the Dolomites, giving us a preview of the incredible scenery we’d be hiking through.  

From Venice, we took a series of buses up into the mountains and then to the village where we started our hike.  We managed to squeeze in an exquisite gelato during one of our bus transfers.  We stayed in a scenic hotel that night and began our hike the next day.

Pasture at Hotel Croda Rossa

Our hike started in the woods with very limited views to the mountains, but soon enough we emerged onto the most gorgeous meadow I have ever experienced.  

 We walked a ways up a side trail for more views 

before spending the last of the afternoon lazing in the meadow.  I could just about have spent our entire two-week vacation lazing in that meadow and enjoying the view.  I was filled with the thought of “why have we waited so long to go hiking in the Alps?”  The meadow and view was just too beautiful to be real.  Eventually we headed to dinner at Refugio Tre Scarperi. 

Refugio Tre Scarperi

 

The next day we finished the climb from the valley up into the high passes.  As we climbed higher above treeline into flower-strewn meadows, the views just got more and more dramatic and stunning.

 Almost every turn of the trail brought new jaw-dropping views of spiky, limestone pinnacles and peaks including Monte Paterno which we’d be climbing later in the day.  

From the pass, we set off on our first via ferrata, De Luca.  This via ferrata route started out with a long series of tunnels

with excellent views out the gun windows that climbed higher into the mountain massif.  

At a higher pass among the pinnacles, we climbed the relatively easy via ferrata route up to the peak of Monte Paterno.  

We ate lunch on the peak and watched people on the via ferrata that we’d be doing the next day—the route looked pretty crazy and we were fervently hoping that it was well protected with lots of wires! 

(The red dots are placed just below the via ferrata route.)

 

We downclimbed from the peak and then continued on the next via ferrata, Passaporto.  This via ferrata consisted mostly of narrow ledges and short tunnels weaving through the pinnacles.  

Some of the ledges were unprotected and gave us our first taste of unprotected via ferrata craziness.  I was physically tired and mentally exhausted and ready to be finished by the time we reached the end of the via ferrata.  However, the route wasn’t tooo crazy and it was a good introduction to via ferrate.  That evening we stayed at the stunningly sited Refugio Tre Cime Locatelli.

Refugio Tre Cime Locatelli

On day three, we backtracked through the Passaporto via ferrata and then continued on a new route along Via Ferrata Sentiero delle Forcelle.  

 This route was pretty lofty though doable and included our first via ferrata bridge over a chasm.  

We eventually descended to the pass at Pian di Cengia and had lunch at Refugio Cengia.  We then continued on Via Ferrata Arrezzata della Guerra which began with a staircase cut into the side of a pinnacle before weaving on ledges across a series of limestone pinnacles.  

We descended to the Croda dei Toni pass and then continued descending down an extremely steep slope.  This particular slope proved to be a hellish slope of very loose scree despite being an official “well traveled” trail on the map.  We had to be extremely careful with every step not to launch a landslide that would take us with it.  

It took forever but we finally made it down the scree and onto a trail that actually was well established.  This trail took us up and over another pass (Giralba) where we had a view of our hut as well asone of the next day's passes

before reaching Refugio Carducci, dramatically situated on the edge of a hanging valley.  We made it to the hut just before a violent storm rolled in.

Refugio Carducci

Day four was the day of our thunderstorm/landslide misadventure mentioned above.  From the refugio, we climbed up to the Maria pass and set off on the quite difficult Via Ferrata Casara at Croda dei Toni.  This via ferrata was very long, a number of sections were physically demanding, and it included a lot of tricky climbing.  

There were also numerous washed out, unprotected gullies which were extra nerve wracking.  In some sections you had to scoot around an overhang on a very narrow ledge, so you had to lean out with your arms extended and with your back and backpack leaning out over the abyss below.  There was another overhanging section where you had to crawl, with your backpack, on a narrow ledge.  Through yet another overhanging section, you have to hunch over while trying to find purchase with your feet on a very slopey non-ledge.  Scary and challenging! 

The via ferrata route was so crazy that the bridged abyss was the least challenging part.

Some parts of the route were just "regular" hiking.  These sections went relatively quickly, even if the exposure was still extreme.

 

Eventually we could see the next pass that we’d be crossing through, and suddenly the via ferrata didn’t seem so bad.  

However, there turned out to be a dispiriting couple of hours of climbing and traversing through sketchy gullies before we actually reached the pass.  I was really DONE when we finally reached the Agnel pass, but our day was far from over so we couldn't stay for long.  

Views from Agnel pass.  Left: the cliff faces we had just skirted.  Right: the direction we were heading with the long scree slope in the foreground.

Next the trail traverses a really long scree slope, thankfully not too loose, before climbing up an icy snowfield and arriving at a couple more via ferrata climbs.  The transition from the snowfield onto the next via ferrata climbing wall proved tricky because the snowfield had melted a few feet away from the cliff face.  We had to jump over the gap onto a tiny ledge that was narrower than my feet before being able to scramble up the wall to the beginning of the wire protection.  This jump was made extra challenging by our backpacks, but we made it.  A miss here would probably not have killed us, but it would have been very, very painful.  

Another thunderstorm rolled in while we were finishing the climb, but it luckily didn’t stick around too long or cause any problems despite making the rock wet.  We were exhausted and starving by the time we reached the next pass at Croda dei Toni but it was already 5pm and we still had a ways to hike before dinner.  So after taking off our harnesses and helmets, we ate a snack while marching along the trail toward the refugio.  Luckily, the hike down to the refugio was on reasonable, well established trails and we arrived just before dinner.  Refugio Comici was one of our favorite huts—the dorm room had regular beds instead of bunkbeds as well as fluffy down pillows and blankets, a towel was provided, and the food was extra gourmet (one dish was even sprinkled with dried colorful Alp meadow flowers!) and super delicious. 

Refugio Comici

 
The next day we needed a bit of a break.  We had originally planned on doing another challenging via ferrata, but we did a mellow hike to the top of Croda Una instead.  

The morning was beautifully clear and the views of the surrounding peaks were absolutely stunning.

We had the peak entirely to ourselves and we lingered for a couple of hours before heading down to Refugio Cengia for a relaxed, delicious lunch of local delicacies and Hefeweizen.  From Cengia, we headed downhill past a couple of lakes (there are actually not that many lakes in the Dolomites, at least compared to Sweden) and to a meadow where we stopped to watch two feuding marmots 

before climbing up onto another plateau to Refugio Tre Cime Locatelli and our second night at this hut.  From the refugio, we could see to the peaks and passes that we’d be climbing in a couple of days.

 

When we woke up on day six, the hut was completely socked in by clouds.  The clouds parted a bit giving us promising views for a little while, 

but the fog closed in on us again and unfortunately we had to traverse Via Ferrata Bonacossa in the fog.  

We did this via ferrata in the downhill direction which is definitely more challenging for me than climbing up.  Downclimbing coupled with the fog made this relatively easy via ferrata feel daunting.  I think that I was also mentally exhausted by this point because while I found the via ferrate to be a gorgeous and fun challenge, they required a demanding level of concentration and constant sheer willpower to not succumb into a total freak-out.  We eventually made it through the fog to the pass Rinbianco and had lunch in the wind shade of a WWI ruin.

We walked down from our lunch pass and then headed up to the next pass to Refugio Fonda Savio.  It started pouring just after we got to the refugio so instead of basking in a sunny meadow all afternoon as I had hoped, we huddled inside the hut and read.  This refugio had by far the best apple strudel that I have ever encountered and coupled with hot chocolate, it was a cozy afternoon snack. 

Refugio Fonda Savio

We stayed at Fonda Savio for three nights.  It was nice to have a home base for a few days after moving around from hut to hut to hut, not to mention the opportunity to sample the apple strudel a few more times!  The next day was fairly rainy so we enjoyed a much-needed rest day.  We sat out on in the pass for an hour or so in between rain showers, but we spent most of the day in the cozy refugio.

Day eight dawned clearer and we set out on a day hike loop incorporating two via ferrate.  We climbed up and up to the daunting Nevaio pass that we had seen from Refugio Locatelli, then down into the next valley.  From there it was a very steep hike to the next pass Neve where we stopped to eat our lunch.  After yet another extremely steep descent into the next valley over, we started climbing the next via ferrata to the pass at Diavolo.  One more crazy steep descent and we made it back to the refugio.  Even though the distance we traveled was relatively short and I wasn’t even carrying a backpack, it was an exhausting day climbing up to and descending down from three high alpine passes.  My knees were officially hurting after the last descent.

We said goodbye to Refugio Fonda Savio the next morning and continued on Alta Via 4, descending into the conifer forest before ascending above tree line again to the start of the next via ferrata.  Unfortunately it was foggy again.  We made it most of the way up the via ferrata before the rain and thunder started.  Between the rain and the fog and the scary via ferrata, I was starting to panic and we turned around and downclimbed the via ferrata before we made it to the pass.  Ironically, the sun came out before we even made it to the bottom of the via ferrata.  In hindsight, we should have just stopped when I started to panic and waited out the rain and then finished the climb when conditions got better.                                    

Instead, we descended all the way into a lush deciduous forest and skirted the mountainside while passing some WWI ruins.  It was a beautiful path and a nice variation from all the scree we’d been climbing through during the last week.  We crossed a few less exciting ski slopes before arriving at Refugio Col de Varda seconds before a downpour.  We stopped for a long, relaxed lunch with radlers (a surprisingly tasty mix of lemonade and beer) and continued waiting out the rain with dessert and decaf cappuccino.  When it finally stopped pouring, we headed up a jeep track in the drizzle to Refugio Citta di Carpi where we stayed the night.  We lucked out with a private room and a shower—SO luxurious!  It was indescribably lovely to have a night without any strangers snoring three feet away. 

Refugio Citta di Carpi

 
A violent storm came in just as we arrived at the hut.  We were lucky to avoid the downpour but I was so disappointed not to get to lounge in the gorgeous, idyllic meadow just below the refugio.  Just before dinner, however, the clouds parted for a few minutes giving us magnificent views across the fog-filled valley to the mountains we would be climbing into the next day.

Day ten also started out wet, but it eventually cleared up in the afternoon.  We followed a series of jeep tracks waaay down and crossed the only road of our entire hike.  From the road, there was nowhere to go but up and the trail climbing up to Sorapis was crazy steep, though not aided and not scary for that matter either.  

In stark contrast to Sweden, the Dolomites don’t feature a lot of surface water—not a lot of streams or creeks, not a lot of lakes, not a lot of waterfalls.  This makes the glacial bowls at Sorapis a bit unique for the area.  First of all, we passed a very impressive waterfall pouring down from the hanging valley.  

And then, eventually, we reached the turquoise Lake Sorapis.  Its color is due to glacial sediment and is just mesmerizing; the lake is an understandably popular dayhike destination.  We managed to find a relatively secluded ledge jutting out over the lake where we ate lunch gazing at the Sorapis peak being reflected in the turquoise water.  

We sat on the ledge all afternoon wrapped in all of our clothing, reading and enjoying the view.  Eventually the sun came out, warming us and inducing us to lie like reptiles on the stone ledge and nap in the warm sun.  When the sun disappeared again, we walked the short distance to Refugio Vandelli.  

We did a dayhike from Refugio Vandelli the next day, walking up to a pass in the opposite direction from where we’d be continuing on the following day.  We hiked up a relatively moderate trail (for the Dolomites anyway) and passed Sorapis’ eastern  glacier.  

We continued into a stark glacial bowl 

 where layers of limestone swooped up to create jaggedy peaks.

After a relatively level section, we ascended up to the cold, windy Sora la Cengia del Banco pass with views out over the village of San Vito de Cadore and to the dramatic mountains beyond.  So many mountains to explore one day!  

Unfortunately it was too cold up there to linger for long so we looped onto another trail back down to the glacial bowl where we tested a number of different spots to try to find shelter from the wind.  Eventually we found a little wind-protected bowl that still had amazing views out toward the vertical face that we’d be climbing the next day.  

We spent a lot of time watching speck-sized climbers through the binoculars and trying to piece together the next day’s via ferrata route.  The climb was a daunting prospect to say the least.

Every few minutes or so while sitting in the bowl, we’d hear a rock tumbling down the face of the glacier beside us.  The melting glacier feeds Lake Sorapis, but from our perch, we realized that the Lake doesn’t have an outlet and does not feed the waterfall we had seen the day before.  Like the other alpine lakes we had seen in the Dolomites, Sorapis must seep into the limestone under the lake.  What a geologically interesting place!  

Luck was with us and after another night of rain, day twelve dawned clear if cold—there was a dusting of snow on the peaks.  We left the hut at 6:30 am and were the first to start the climb.  Toward the beginning, we surprised a mother and baby chamois, the mountain goats of the Alps.  They scrambled deftly away up the seemingly vertical cliff face.  
 
I was determined to successfully climb Via Ferrata Vandelli, even if it was a long, challenging climb.  If I chickened out, we wouldn’t be able to finish Alta Via 4.  

By refusing to look down even a little bit, and by completely ignoring my peripheral vision which contained nothing but abyss, I managed to control my panic and to keep slowly but steadily climbing up and up and up.  

With a lot of courage overcoming my fear of heights and a little help from Carl, I managed to reach the top, and it was one of my proudest moments!  I was so, so excited to have reached the top of the climb and to have such beautiful views back over the valleys and mountains we had previously walked through and over.  We had a snack but unfortunately couldn’t dawdle because we still had a lot more via ferrata and a lot of distance to cover before reaching the next hut.

View from the top.  Left: looking back toward Lake Sorapis and the glacial bowl and pas we had explored on day 10.  Right: Looking north to the passes we had explored on day 7.

The trail descended quite a bit before reaching a short via ferrata downclimbing section.  I’ve mentioned numerous times now that I have trouble downclimbing.  I was also already physically and mentally tired from our challenging climb.  And there was a pair of older Germans above us kicking stones down on us.  Not on purpose, but as Carl said, anyone can accidentally set a stone rolling down the hill from time to time, but two or more stones within such a short period of time is just careless.  We hadn’t had any stones kicked down onto us for twelve days, and these guys managed to kick three softball and basketball sized stones down toward us within ten minutes.  Anyway, between my exhaustion, the downclimbing, and the stones tumbling down I had a panicky moment.  But I managed to regain my composure by the time we reached the bottom of the descent where we passed by another rickety bivouac.  

From there the trail ascended to another pass before setting out on a very, very long and sketchy traverse that bobbed constantly up and down.  About 75% of the traverse was so sketchy that it really should have had wire protection, but only about 5% did.  This wildly exposed traverse really freaked me out and it took all of my willpower not to succumb to panic.  Carl tried to point out a couple of scenic views, but even the thought of looking out over the abyss made my heart race and I could feel the beginnings of true panic set in.  It’s unfortunate that I was so scared and unable to enjoy the views because it was a relatively clear day and the views were extremely dramatic.  I missed a very scenic and impossibly tall waterfall tumbling down the cliff across the valley from us.

I only looked up on the rare occassions that the trail wasn't crazy.

  
It took several hours but we eventually made it past the sketchy traverse and onto a more sane trail.  We stopped for a quick snack break and it was wonderful to look up and enjoy the views and to breathe out and let go of all the pent-up panic.  The heavenly trail circled a bowl and descended into the Grande pass.  

From there, the trail became very steep again as it descended to Refugio San Marco.  Eleven intense hours after leaving Vandelli, we finally reached San Marco.   

Refugio San Marco

Refugio San Marco was another one of our favorite huts.  The building is 130 years old and is super cute with bunkrooms tucked under the gables.  There were flowers in the windows and a partly espaliered tree framing the front door.  The refugio was clearly a lovingly managed family enterprise.  Additionally, we even scored a private room!  

A tiny room with a big view at Refugio San Marco

There was a gorgeous view of Mt. Anteleo and the passes we'd be climbing in the coming days from the hut's cute gazebo.  

We had a very short hike the next day and took our time at breakfast, packing up, and climbing up to the Picolla pass where we explored a WWI tunnel and then sat in the sunny meadow and lounged the afternoon away reading, napping, and peak-gazing.  After our crazy intense day the day before, this was a much needed physical and mental break.  

We made it down to Refugio Galassi in time for late afternoon cake.  The staff at Galassi were kind and the service was good, but the hut itself is a converted army barracks and was the largest and least cozy of all the huts we stayed in.

Refugio Galassi

 
It was good that we had had a relatively easy day, because our fourteenth and final day of hiking in the Dolomites was also long and intense, though we were fortunate with beautiful, mostly clear weather and truly amazing views.  The day started with Via Ferrata Ghiacciaio Anteleo (Anteleo Glacier) which climbed the slanting rock face of Antelao mountain, one of the highest peaks in the Dolomites.  

Again, I was absolutely determined to make it up the climb without panicking, and I succeeded!  Although there were some fairly tough sections where the rock face became more vertical, most of the climb was on more angled rock which wasn’t technically difficult to climb, though it took me half the ascent to learn to trust that my shoes would stick to the slanting rock.  I was pretty tired and ready to be done with the climb when we finally made it to the razor-thin ridge at the pass Ghiacciaio.

We made it to the top!  Let: Looking back to the mountains we had circled around on day 12-13.  Right: Looking to the larger Anteleo glacier.

We didn’t have time to linger so we enjoyed the mountain view behind us and the glacial lake view in front of us for a moment before walking out along the dauntingly thin ridge for about 100m (100 yards).  There was no wire protection and a fall to either side would result in a 1000m (3000ft) deadly fall.  I was extremely grateful that there was no wind!  One random gust could be deadly up there.

From the ridge, we had to downclimb a small unprotected cliff jutting out over the larger Anteleo Glacier.  We made it safely down onto a steep but less crazy path which led us away from the glacier and out of the glacial bowl.  I was glad to get some distance between us and the glacier because it was sending down a constant stream of rocks and boulders.  Some of the boulders that came tumbling down were the size of a hug!              

There was a protected downclimb down the lip of the hanging valley.  This downclimb was quite steep and challenging and I am very grateful for Carl’s directions of where to place my feet.  However, I felt much calmer on this downclimb.  Maybe I was finally starting to get the hang of things?  Or maybe I was just giddy to be finishing our last via ferrata of the trip?

When we were sure we were past all the via ferrata sections, we stopped to take our harnesses off and to eat lunch.  We didn’t realize it at first but we sat amidst a calmly grazing herd of ibex, another type of Alpen mountain goat.  We watched them chomp their lunch of grass and wildflowers as we chomped our lunch of speck and cheese sandwiches.  

We walked down to a gorgeous meadow and then up to Piria pass, the last pass of our trip.  The views were incredible in all directions and we sat and enjoyed a last chocolate bar before continuing on.  

Left: Looking toward Piria pass.  Right: Enjoying the view of the mountains we had just crossed from the pass.

The next section of trail was sublime.  It was wide enough to not be scary but was on a steep mountainside giving incredible views to the next ridge of spiky mountains.  All of a sudden I couldn’t believe that we were coming to the end of our trail.  How could the trail end when there were so many magnificent mountains to explore just ahead?  Besides, how could we leave the Dolomites when scrambling around the Dolomites is what we DO everyday?  All thoughts of jobs and everyday life were so far distant that it was hard to imagine another life than trekking through the Dolomites.

But alas, another life was waiting for us.  We got to the bottom of the trail and the end of Alta Via 4 and walked into the village of Pieve di Cadore where we first found some gelato (priorities!) and then took a steaming hot shower in our hotel room.  We managed not to fall asleep in our comfy, luxurious hotel beds and went out for a fancy wood-fired pizza-oven pizza dinner, starting with a glass of celebratory prosecco.  We were physically and mentally exhausted and after the day’s descent my knees had really reached their limit (my knees are still aching three weeks later).  But we were delighted and proud to have completed the challenging Alta Via 4 plus all of our extra loops, via ferrate, and explorations, and toasting with some bubbly was a fitting close to the trip.

The next morning we took the bus back to the Venice airport and had a smooth if sad trip home.  I LOVED hiking in the Dolomites.  The scenery was just magnificent.  But I’m still not exactly sure how I feel about the via ferrate and the other extremely exposed and lofty parts of the trails that really should have had protection.  I want to love them.  I want to be able to do them without being scared and panicky.  I like the challenge, I love the high alpine views.  But when actually on them, I was just trying to survive and successfully make it through the terrifying experience.  I was not enjoying the moment, though I was appreciating it, if that makes sense.

Either way, we’ll definitely be returning to the Dolomites at some point.  In September when it doesn’t rain and storm as much as July.  And maybe after a couple of via ferrata vacations I won’t be so terrified and will actually be able to enjoy them in the moment?  A good goal for the future.

My husband Carl is always a fantastic companion on our adventures, enriching every experience and often helping me when the going gets tough.  But he deserves an extra thank you for this trip.  I would not have completed Alta Via 4 without him.  Thank you for everything.  I love you.           
         

SUNDAY, JULY 09, 2023   

Myggskär (Mosquito Island) and the Gate to Paradise

According to Swedish author August Strindberg, Dalarö is the “Gate to paradise” and after this amazing Midsummer paddling adventure in the Stockholm Archipelago I couldn’t agree more.  Patrik, Ulrika, Carl and I started out from Dalarö just south of Stockholm and paddled about 85km (about 53 miles) over four days.  We enjoyed amazing weather, beautiful landscapes, wonderful paddling, fun company, gourmet food, a lack of mosquitoes and a number of refreshing swims and were far from ready to leave the archipelago at the end of the long weekend. 

 

On Wednesday evening we paddled about 5 km from Dalarö 

passing heron after heron after heron and spent the night on Ornö huvud, an understandably popular spot with its sand beach, hidden lagoon, flat tent sites, and peninsula of jutting rock providing good views in all directions.  

camp on Ornö huvud

Amazingly, we had this gem of a campsite all to ourselves.  We started the evening with a elderflower-infused negroni cocktail followed by a dinner of smoked lamb with a porcini mushroom sauce.  Delicious!  

Camp on Ornö huvud.  Thank you Ulrika for the photo on the right :)

Sadly, it started to rain before we could dig into the homemade rhubarb cake and we hurriedly gathered up all our gear before diving into our tents.  It was an abrupt end to a wonderful evening but listening to the rain pattering on our tent was deliciously cozy—I haven’t fallen asleep to that music in ages!

The next morning dawned sunny and we sat out on the rocks and enjoyed a breakfast of apple turnovers in pan-toasted pastry dough.  We set out into a slight headwind—it would have been even nicer to have the wind at our backs, but at least the wind wasn’t so strong that we had to change our plans.  We rounded the northern point of Ornö and soon began to weave our way through the islands toward the outer edge of the archipelago.  

Our destination was Myggskär, or Mosquito Island, in the very farthest out band of islands before the archipelago melts into the Baltic Sea.  This island has been on Carl and my radar for a while but it’s a long, exposed paddle to get there requiring time and good weather.  We weren’t sure that we’d reach Myggskär on this trip since it’s so weather dependent, but we wanted to at least try.

We stopped in a sunny, wind-protected cove for a long, leisurely lunch.  We started with a refreshing swim and then Patrik and Ulrika treated us to quite the traditional Midsummer feast with several different types of pickled herring, meatballs, and fresh potatoes with sour cream and chives.  We even had some traditional snaps and sang a few traditional snaps songs!  The scenery, the food, and the atmosphere really doesn’t get any more “Swedish Midsummer” than this.

 

As we paddled farther and farther out, the islands became smaller, the trees started to disappear, and the water got choppier.  We managed a fairly long, open crossing against the wind 

and stopped to rest and have a snack on the last island before an even longer, even more exposed crossing out to Myggskär.  From this outpost of Sillkobben, our goal of Myggskär was barely visible on the horizon.  

View toward Myggskär from Sillkobben

The wind had steadily picked up all afternoon and while we felt that the crossing through the whitecaps to Myggskär was possible and not too dangerous, we decided to stay on Sillkobben overnight.  The forecast was for a wind-still morning, so there was no need to brave the choppy crossing that afternoon.

Sillkobben was a beautiful island with quite a lot of variation despite its small size.  There were a number of small pools up on the living rock, and we tented near a couple of them.  It continued to blow all afternoon and into the night, but our tents were anchored down with large stones and luckily nothing blew away.  Despite the wind, the temperatures were so warm that we didn’t need jackets, even late into the evening.  This is a very, very rare occasion in Sweden!

camp on Sillkobben

We spent a lazy afternoon and evening lounging on the rocks, enjoying the view, sipping wine, and chatting.  Patrik and Ulrika made a gourmet feast of pasta carbonara, and it was so, so delicious!  We were finally able to have the rhubarb cake for desert.

Even washing dishes is scenic in the archipelago.  Thanks for the photo Ulrika!

 
We almost stayed up late enough to watch the sun set, but given the fact that we were planning on being in the boats by 7 am to beat the wind, we crawled into our tents before the sun sank all the way to the horizon.

Saturday morning dawned bright, sunny, and quite wind-still as promised.  We broke down our tents and ate a hasty breakfast before getting into the kayaks for the open passage over to Myggskär.  We made it without incident and pulled up to the island before 8 am.

on the crossing to Myggskär

The reason that Myggskär has been on our list is because there is an open, free cabin on the island.  Actually, it turned out that there are two cabins!  The cabins are open to the public and free to use, but it’s first come first served.  We had our tents with us so if the cabins were already taken we could just continue paddling to the next deserted island, but we were surprised and delighted to find the cabins empty despite the long weekend!  Not only that, but the cabins were extremely well-kept and clean.  Carl and I have often turned down the chance to sleep in similar free cabins because they’re a bit grimy, but these cabins, even the mattresses, pillows, and blankets, were spick and span.  Patrik and Ulrika chose one cabin and Carl and I claimed the other cabin.  Our cabin was a bit bigger and even had a fireplace and firewood!  It was too warm and sunny for a fire this time around, but this would be the most idyllic destination for a fall paddling tour some day.   

Myggskär's wonderful cabins

The cabins on Myggskär are sited extremely scenically.  You approach them from a very sheltered natural harbor.  There’s an even more sheltered inner lagoon with a bridge over the inlet.  The cabins are a bit up from the water and have water views to both the north and the south.  

Just to the east of the cabins is a vertical stone cliff and there’s a small inland pond at the base of the cliff.  (I guess it’s this pond that gives the island its name of Mosquito Island?  Luckily the breeze was too stiff for mosquitoes during our trip.)   There’s a wide, sweeping view from the top of the cliff and a labyrinth on one rock beach.  

While the inner part of the harbor provides perfect, smooth rocks to pull up the kayaks, there are several diving platforms from the harbor’s edges providing deep, refreshing swimming.  

 

Not only that, but Myggskär has several glacier-carved channels that are just perfect for exploring in a kayak.  One of them turned out not to have an outlet at the very end, but another channel that was so narrow that we had to use our hands to push the kayak forward actually did go all the way through.  

After arriving on our paradise island, we ate more breakfast before napping in the sun for about an hour.  We had gotten a very early start, after all!

A bit refreshed from our snooze, we headed out to explore the other islands of this very last band before the open sea.  We’re always on the lookout for seals this far out in the archipelago, but we’ve never seen any before this trip.  But this time, we saw seals on two different islands!  First, we saw a couple of seals that were lounging in a deep, watery crevice.  They were hard to see depending on the angle of our kayaks but were most definitely seals.  A couple of islands later, we saw another seal in full view before he slipped into the water!  It was such a high point to finally see seals in the Stockholm Archipelago!  

Ulrika's photo on the left

 
We continued weaving through the islands of the outer band, testing our way through the shallow bays and narrow channels and occasionally stirring up colonies of terns as we floated by.  Suddenly the sky would be thick with clouds of swirling, screeching terns, but they would settle down again as soon as we had passed.  

We stopped for lunch at Huvudskär before rounding back to Myggskär, this time with the wind at our back.  We got back in time for a long afternoon and evening of enjoying our paradise island.  We sank a bag of white wine into the bay to chill 

and then explored the island on foot.  Carl swam the narrow channels, which was impressive given that the water was quite brisk and the swims quite long.  We then divided up into couples and bathed/swam at different ends of the harbor.  Just as we were getting up out of the water all squeaky clean, a small motor boat came cruising into the harbor, obviously hoping to claim a cabin.  But here we were, four naked people emerging from the water at different points around the bay, and the motor boat hesitated to come farther into the harbor.  To make the point extra clear, Patrik then proceeded to slowly stalk, stark naked, from his bathing spot into his cabin.  At this point, I was dying of hysterical laughter and the motor boat turned around.  If it had been some kayakers or really bad weather we would have been a bit more hospitable, but we were very glad to have the island to ourselves!

The wind grew stronger over the afternoon so we sat against a sheltering rock to cook and enjoy a coconut curry dinner and a cinnamon apple dessert.  This time, we managed to stay awake long enough to watch the sun sink into the sea.  Just a couple of hours later, Carl watched the sun rise again, but I was asleep.  Asleep and asleep, unfortunately I slept very poorly during the entire trip, even when curled up on my comfy, soft mattress in the cabin. 

           
We would have loved to stay another day at Myggskär, but the journey home was too far to allow for a lazy day.  We rose early again to take advantage of the north wind before it turned against us and packed up our kayaks, heading south and starting to weave our way through the islands back toward the mainland.  We made very good time and after only a hour of paddling had finished about a third of the day’s distance.  We stopped for a long fika break (complete with carrot cake!) on a very tiny island and then continued to thread our way toward Dalarö.

A while later, we stopped for a long, sunny lunch.  We were all pretty tired after the early mornings and all the paddling, and we took a long nap in wind-protected crevices in the sun.  

Eventually, we roused ourselves and continued paddling.  At one point, we passed the motor boat and the people who had turned away from Myggskär due to our skinny dipping!  More laughter.
 
We were nearly to our day’s destination when we ended up doing a several kilometer-long detour.  We had paddled into a back bay that was supposed to connect back out to the open water, but that connection has long since overgrown with reeds.  We tried to force the passage but to no avail; we had to turn around and paddle the long way around and out.  

The last bit of paddling on Saturday was quite rough and choppy with some headwind, but we paddled with confidence and soon rounded the tricky southern head of Ornö and found a calm bay to pull into.  The island rises steeply from this bay giving vast views from its cliffs, but the rock was fairly broken, making it hard to find a couple of flat-enough tent sites.  After searching for a while, we found spots that were tentable—our spot provided good photos, even if it was pretty slopey.  We shared our slice of jutting rock with an eagle who roosted in a tree just above our tents.

We couldn’t believe that it was our last evening.  We all wanted to continue paddling for at least another week!  But we tried not to dwell on our dwindling time out in the archipelago and focused instead on another yummy dinner (roasted veggie soup with feta cheese, wheat rice, and toasted, freshly picked seaweed), the beautiful views, and good conversation with friends.  

Carl even made us chocolate muffins on the camp stove for dessert!  Again, it was a struggle to stay up late enough for the sunset, but it was our last evening so we forced ourselves to stay awake for the show.  

Our final morning dawned sunny and clear yet again.  We so totally lucked out with amazing weather on this adventure!  Lots of sun and enough wind to keep the mosquitoes at bay while not being so windy that we had to stay in sheltered waters.  We started the day with pancakes with maple syrup and strawberry jam (not bad for camping!) before loading up the kayaks and following Ornö’s coast toward Dalarö.  

 
Whenever possible, we wove through islands and explored side channels.  The sparse vegetation of the outer archipelago gave way to fully forested islands.  Our route had been almost entirely human-free up until this point (which is totally lucky because the archipelago is known for being crowded at Midsummer), but now we were accompanied by a number of sailboats, motorboats, and ferries.  Despite getting closer to civilization, we saw an incredible number of sea birds as we wound through some shallow waters.  Again, we saw dozens of herons.  We stopped for one last leisurely lunch and one last refreshing swim.  

 

Just outside of Dalarö, we stopped at Dalarö skans, a military fortification from the 1650’s.  The fortification itself wasn’t open so we sat just outside and enjoyed a last snack on the water before heading into Dalarö’s harbor where we hectically unloaded our kayaks and headed home.  We were all pretty worn out and exhausted, but, as usual, work beckoned the next day.   

Dalarö skans fortification

It was a beautiful, amazing adventure in so many ways, and I am so glad that we made it out to our goal of Myggskär!  Patrik and Ulrika, thank you for sharing the adventure with us and making the trip even more of a paradise!     

          

SUNDAY, JULY 02, 2023   

Eksjö Wooden Town

We met up with our friends Susanna and Johannes and their kiddos halfway between Malmö, where they live, and Stockholm in the small but oh-so cute town of Eksjö.  Eksjö is in the province of Småland and it is known because it has retained its historical downtown of small-scale wooden architecture.  It is an absolutely idyllic little town with a lot of life—both local and tourist—and the quality of life in this town seems very high.

We stayed in one of the town’s historic wooden buildings that has been converted into a hostel.  The  long balcony on the second floor was a perfect, shady spot to hang out (unusual for Sweden to crave shade instead of sun!).  

The building is built along the creek running through town, and our bedroom windows looked out onto the creek.  At night, we had the windows open and were lulled to sleep by the soft murmuring of the stream. 

 
We spent Saturday exploring the town, walking up and down the quaint streets, popping into the open courtyards, 

 and generally oooing and ahhing over the cuteness of it all.  

The town has medieval roots but the buildings are from the 1600’s and later.  The older buildings have exposed log structures but the newer buildings have wooden siding and all manner of pretty details.  I was particularly drawn to the doors.

One of downtown’s historic buildings was razed by fire a few years ago, and it has been replaced by a project by Okidoki arkitekter that’s well-known in architectural circles for harmonizing with the local scale and design aesthetic.  

I loved the project’s playful exploration of wooden details.  

Interestingly, the entire wooden facade is sprinklered because it is too close to the neighboring buildings according to the modern fire code.  Fire always has been the greatest threat to towns like Eksjö; half of the town was destroyed as recently as 1856, but lucky for us half was spared.

We spent Sunday hiking in the nearby Skurugata Nature Reserve.  The trail descends into a long, deep canyon before eventually climbing up to one of the highest points in Småland.  Down in the canyon, the hike was fairly challenging because you had to climb through piles of boulders.  Quite the adventure for small legs!  

But the kiddos did great, and with a little candy encouragement managed almost the entire loop on their own legs.  

All too soon it was time to head back to Stockholm and to big-city life.  It was a perfect weekend in the perfect town of Eksjö—too bad the town’s even farther than Stockholm from the mountains, otherwise I could totally see living there!  Thanks for a great weekend Susanna and Johannes!          
       

SUNDAY, JUNE 18, 2023   

Messing About in Boats on Gotland 

The long weekend at Sweden’s national day saw us flying to the island of Gotland in the middle of the Baltic to visit Carl’s parents.  We did spend some time on dry land, but the theme of this visit, in honor of The Wind in the Willows, was messing about in boats.

 

Our one dry-land day was spent on Gotland’s east coast and our first stop was a little hike in the Kallgatburg nature reserve to see the rare lady’s slipper orchid guckusko.  The walk out to the orchid stand was beautiful and varied, sometimes through forest, sometimes out in meadows and pastures, sometimes on bog bridges through wetter areas.  

Other wildflowers, some of them also rare, abounded.  The orchids were just gorgeous and I was surprised about how large they are; the flowers are almost grocery store orchid sized.  

 
The next stop was at Vike, a historic farm that is run by a non-profit preservation organization.  

Left: Vike's farmhouse and baking house.  Right: Gotland's historic houses traditionally have cabinets built into their thick limestone walls.

Carl’s parents are volunteers for the organization and spend a lot of time and energy revitalizing the garden, giving tours of the buildings, and sourcing inexpensive inventory (everything from a new refrigerator for the small farm café to era-appropriate table cloths for the farmhouse’s salon.  We had a lovely quiche picnic on the front lawn under an expansive chestnut tree before exploring the buildings, the garden, and the nearby shoreline.  

Vike's barn and fence.

The farm was not yet open to the public and there were no other volunteers or visitors around, so we were able to poke about at our own unharried pace.  Vike is a beautiful farm environment and the volunteer team puts an impressive amount of time, energy, and love into caring for it!

A sea of ramslök in Vike's orchard and Carl's mom, who had back surgery two months prior, crossing a stile to the sea at Vike.

 
The boating adventures began the next day when we took Carl’s parent’s small motor boat out to Enholmen, a small island off Gotland’s east coast which is entirely taken over by Karlsvärd’s fortress.

The fortress was constructed on-and-off from the 1600’s to the 1800’s as Sweden’s defensive needs waxed and waned.  The island was only demilitarized in 2011 and before that no tourist visitors were allowed.  Today it’s not Gotland’s most populous tourist destination but there seem to be a small but steady stream of visitors during the summer months.  We had a fun walk around  the island and climbed up and down the massive fortress walls.  

Enholmen and Karlsvärd fästning or fortress

 
In addition to the historic farm, Carl’s parents are also very involved with a volunteer organization which takes care of historic wooden fishing boats.  Tarring, sewing sails, etc. is a lot of work, but the reward is that the volunteers get to participate in regattas with other wooden boat organizations.  We timed our visit to coincide with one such regatta, and we spent the next day sailing Lisa to the regatta’s starting harbor a few miles south of her home harbor.  As the bird flies (or as the car drives), the distance was short, but the wind direction and strength meant that it took us several hours to sail the short distance.  Conditions were a bit dicey so Carl and his dad did all the rope pulling and I contributed only by shifting my weight around as appropriate and serving fika buns.  Carl’s mom stayed on shore, shuttling the car between the harbors.

 

It was a bit of a splashy, bumpy ride, but it was a really cool experience.  To be out on the open water in such a little boat makes you feel so small and exposed.  It was a very small taste of the hard and dangerous conditions that the island’s fishermen have battled for millennia. But it was also a small taste of the undeniable beauty of the landscape and the rush of surviving nature’s harsh conditions.

The regatta was held at Kovik, a historic fiskeläge or fishing camp.  I didn’t have a lot of time to examine the buildings but the small, weathered fishing shacks and chapel were quite the picturesque setting for a wooden boat regatta! 

Kovik fiskeläge or fishing camp.

 

The day of the actual regatta dawned calm.  Before the race, Carl and his dad took the curious public out for short sailing cruises.  The actual race was quite short and lasted only about 45 minutes.  I’ve never participated (or even watched) a sailing race before so it was all new and exciting to me.  This time, the wind was calm enough that even I, the unexperienced member of the crew, got to help with the ropes and the sails at Carl’s dad’s command.  It was very fun and exciting and one of the best parts was that at times we sailed quite close to a few other similar boats so I could see what our boat and sails must have looked like.  We did not win the race, but that really wasn’t the point for me.  For me, it was just about being out on the water, coming to understand a bit how the sails work, and admiring the beautiful boats.

 
Luck was with us over the weekend and every day was clear and sunny.  The weather even began to warm and we were able to spend some time outside without jackets, a first for 2023.  The downside to this amazing weather, however, is that it hasn’t rained in weeks and farmers all over Sweden are struggling with a blossoming drought and it looks like this year’s crop is going to be a disaster.  It’s not just the crops like wheat and vegetables that are failing, but there’s not likely to be enough hay to see the livestock through winter.  If this drought keeps up, farmers are going to be forced to send many more animals to the slaughterhouse than planned.   

No trip to Gotland would be complete without delicious meals.  As usual, Carl’s parents prepared a steady stream of tasty gourmet dinners, and we also enjoyed a couple of lunches outside at very scenic farm restaurants.  Farm to table is a very short journey on Gotland.  Now I'm wishing I had photographed these very picturesque establishments.  

Thank you Ylva and Anders for yet another fantastic Gotland weekend!  It was so much fun messing about on boats (and on land) with you! 

        

Older Posts