#throwback – June 8, 2024

In paradise, I wake up to a bird concert right in my windowsill. A sweet little bird is singing its heart out. The silence is gone, but the alternative is just as beautiful. I wash my face with water from the lake. Just beneath the surface, a little crayfish is enjoying the warm rays of the sun.

As beautiful as the day began, it didn’t stay that way. Soon it turned cloudy and drizzly. The route was incredibly tough and I made slow progress. I walked the entire day but only managed to cover 15 kilometers. Those last few hundred meters were killing me. I had seen on the app that the shelter couldn’t be far, and when I turned a corner, there it was. I let out a primal scream—absurdly loud and dramatic. A man came running out of the hut, startled. He thought I had fallen and asked if I was okay. Yes, yes, I’m fine—I’m just so happy to have arrived. I was mortified, thinking I was alone.

He introduced himself as David John from Stockholm. He gave me a warm welcome; he had already built up the fire. Although the huts are supposed to be open to anyone as long as there’s space, I still asked if he minded me staying. I really had no energy left to continue. He had no problem with it, and unlike my previous experiences, he wasn’t surprised to have company. Apparently that’s more common on weekends. We exchanged insights about hiking routes and countries we’d visited. It was cool to see that he also walked in barefoot shoes. Like me, he had great experiences with this way of walking and no longer had knee problems. He was the first person I’d seen barefoot in Sweden—which made sense, he said, because it’s still in its (barefoot) infancy here.

David John ate his freeze-dried hiker’s food straight from the bag, while I had fresh vegetables and meat. He was a bit jealous and said it smelled amazing. We shared my chocolate over a cup of tea, and by half past eight he was already asleep. I followed his lead, though I couldn’t fall asleep right away. But after some reading, I drifted into a deep sleep.