Tag: sabbatical

I hit the trail around 11 a.m.—it’s getting later and later, haha. And then, once I’m walking and that wonderful feeling sweeps over me, I always think: why didn’t I start earlier? The weather is stunning. Today it’s more forest, but also wide, open farmland. A beautiful mix, and it keeps getting quieter. Everything is so green—some of the leaves practically glow. Fifty shades of green, truly.

I’m amazed by the mega-supermarket Willy:s. They have everything, and it’s cheap too. Of course, I buy way too much—something I regret later when the cart feels heavy and parts of the trail become tricky. I snap a photo of the two Willies: the Wheelie and Willy:s. In my head I say it with a thick Amsterdam accent: Willie & Willie. It makes me laugh. And hey, it’s always good to laugh at yourself, right?

I spend the night at a fantastic, unusual spot—by another little lake. Technically speaking… I’m sleeping in a graveyard. What a place! The Grave-Field at Vasasjön. Four of the six ancient graves are still visible, arranged in a three-pointed star. They date back to the 5th or 6th century. Woooow—I feel so incredibly lucky to experience this. On tonight’s menu: Swedish meatballs. And honestly? Way better than IKEA’s.

I eat my breakfast on a bench and linger there for quite a while, soaking up the morning sun. I had already packed my gear early because rain was in the forecast, but for now, the sky stays dry. I just can’t seem to get going today—but honestly, that’s perfectly fine. My mind, however, hasn’t quite caught up with that idea yet.

I’ve packed my cart differently again. It’s important to keep the heaviest items as close to the wheels as possible. I need to find a system that allows me to reach things quickly. You learn by doing—especially with stuff like this. Along the way, you naturally discover what works and what doesn’t. I’m also carrying a backpack. In some photos it looks stuffed, but it actually weighs very little. It just holds the things I want easy access to: my rain gear, the rain cover for the Wheelie, my notebook, a small bottle of water, maybe some snacks.

The yellow, fragrant rapeseed is in full bloom, and I walk for kilometers through flower-covered fields. Absolutely stunning. My nose in particular is thrilled—the scent is soft and sweet.

On the way, I come across a burial mound dating back to 4200–1800 BC. There’s a long passageway you can crawl into and explore inside.

I’d spotted a beach shelter on the map, just past Landskrona. It’s a bit off the official route, but it seemed like a perfect spot—and I’m not wrong. With the rain now finally starting to fall, it’s great to have some cover.

The first 100 kilometers are behind me!

I sleep incredibly well on my first night in the tent, but still, I spend much of the day taking it easy. The exhaustion of the past few months is definitely catching up with me. It’s cold in the morning, but with the right gear, that doesn’t really matter. It’s pure bliss to brew a cup of coffee while still snuggled in my warm sleeping bag, feeling the fresh air on my face.

I’m still figuring out the best way to pack my hiking cart, the Wheelie. It feels a bit cumbersome for now, but I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it soon enough. I continue along the stunning coastline. The day starts out sunny, but by early afternoon a sharp wind picks up and the weather shifts completely. It turns misty and raw. Later in the day, as the trail heads inland, things clear up again. I find a beautiful camping spot by a lake full of fish. A man walking by with his dog tells me that’s a sure sign the water is clean. That’s good news, because I plan to make my coffee with it tomorrow.

There’s a bench where I can sit and prepare dinner. I experiment with some instant pasta in a cup, adding fresh vegetables, and it tastes surprisingly good. Why is it that food always tastes better out in nature—even when it’s nothing special?

I pitch my tent in the forest, tucked away where no one can see me. Somehow I still have that feeling in the back of my mind that wild camping isn’t allowed, that I should stay out of sight. But this isn’t the Netherlands—this is Sweden. It’ll take some getting used to. I’m sure it won’t be long before I start pitching my little tent wherever I like, without a second thought.

After a wonderful night’s sleep in Copenhagen, and a walk through the city’s new harbor district, I catch the train to Malmö. A short 40-minute ride. And just like that—I’ve arrived in Sweden! A country I’ve never been to and know very little about. It feels like this is where the real journey begins.

In the morning, I plan one last city walk, this time through Malmö. Another place well worth exploring. One of its most iconic sights is the Turning Torso, a twisting skyscraper in the Västra Hamnen district, right on the Swedish side of the Öresund, directly across from Copenhagen. My walk takes me around the tower from all different angles. Once again, the weather is beautiful, and the solar panels on my Wheelie are charging perfectly. After visiting the St. Petri cathedral, I feel like I’ve had enough of the city. It’s nearly 4 p.m.—time to head for nature. Two days of urban life is a bit much for me.

First, I have to make it through a painfully long stretch of industrial area—not exactly inspiring—but once I reach the coastline and begin heading north, everything changes. For the first time, I’ll be wild camping in Sweden. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for so long.

In Sweden, you’re allowed to camp pretty much anywhere, as long as you stay at least 150 meters from houses, take all your trash with you (obviously), and don’t harm any plants or disturb animals. And I have to say—people seem to respect that. I haven’t seen litter anywhere. And eventually, I find the perfect spot. I cook my first one-pot meal in my lightweight frying pan, and it tastes amazing. Then I pitch my tent and sit back to enjoy a stunning sunset, surrounded by curious little rabbits hopping around. This is exactly what I dreamed of.