Familiar Landscape, Foreign Language...Quiet Comfort, Raucous Longing...A Vast Space Opening Within Me. Heavy Glow, Overflowing...

My first experience of Sweden was a disorienting night spent in Stockholm's Arlanda airport.
A fitfull sleep on a vinyl bench...waking up to a glowing pink-orange sky at 3:45 am, 4:10 am, 5:30 am, induced the kind of dreams that leave you unsure of waking reality.
Time as relative, the world you know turned upside down.

After a quick flight to Skellefteå, I hopped a bus to Luleå, which is a mere 100 km from the arctic circle. I saw reindeer grazing at the edge of the forest.

Sweden bears such a remarkable resemblance to Canada: maple and birch trees, thick forests, rolling hills, slate grey bedrock, granite boulders sparkling with quartz, pink and purple lupins lining the highways...it rekindles my appreciation for my home.

Ze German I met for the first time in Malta (back in April) is spending the summer driving and camping through Sweden.

We met up in Germany a few weeks ago:


...and I couldn't turn down the chance to escape the cities for a while, to go camping, to swim in a lake and have a campfire.

He met me in Luleå.

The chilly temperature was a welcome relief, although Swedish weather is as fickle as Canada - one minute it's hot and sunny, the next it's pouring rain.

We went for a stormy walk along the bank of wild rapids, hopping over slick stones and mossy paths. I am dressed head to toe in man-clothes.




Ze German, ever prepared with precious German beer.


We walked trails through forests, passed fire pits, picnic tables, rustic signposts and shelters...


...weaving along the shore of a calm lake dotted with tiny islands...




...balancing on wooden planks, breathing steadily and deeply in the sunshine.


He fished. I read.


I inadvertently caught a small trout with my first try at fishing, and he vowed not to let me near his fishing gear until he caught one, determined not to be upstaged by a Canadian. Of course, I gloated and offered to give him some pointers, pulled out of thin air (what the hell do I know about fishing?).

This lake was so quiet and beautiful.


The ferns are so thick they look like a net cast over the forest floor.


After a relaxing afternoon we walked back up to the cabin for dinner.


He grumbled about the crappy Swedish bread, I whined about the bland oranges.
Then we went grocery shopping.


* * *

Southbound on small empty highways:


I am on map reading duty.


We say the names of Swedish towns out loud, and try as I might, I can hardly pronounce anything properly.


* * *

We stopped in Mårdselforsen national park for a walk.














* * *


We move at a relaxed pace, stopping for a few days at a place that appeals to us, and moving on when we feel like it. We fall into sync easily. Our companionship comes naturally.

Our conversation is riddled with Simpson's quotes (katze in den ofen, kein problem) and South Park references. I insist on calling him Ze German, and I show him the scene from Snatch in English to dispel the confusion (the German version has it's own quotables that I don't get).


The road soundtrack goes from Bob Marley to Metallica, the Chili Peppers to Pink Floyd, AC/DC to Amy Winehouse, with some German industrial thrown in for good measure.


Road side grills, where the 'hamburger sauce' is a version of thousand islands dressing, and - I never thought I'd say this - the fries are too salty (the Swedes have done me in).

We received complimentary massages from a little girl who was hanging out at the Lomsdalen grill with her friend (maybe it was a dare).


I put my feet up on the dashboard and snap pictures of places that I'll probably never see again.



* * *

Another national park: Skuleskogen.

8.5 km of broad forest, boulder fields, sheer cliff faces and one astonishing view...















When we got to Hedeviken, we loved it so much (despite the bugs) that we stayed for over a week. We split the time between this little cabin and the tent.


He's never been hotter.


This is about as dark as it gets at this time of year.



It was perfect area for fishing, so Ze German was contented. I did my fair share of frog hunting and dangling my feet off the edge of the dock.


The storm clouds move in quickly; the air thickens with moisture...


I can't remember the last time I saw a rainbow.


We were surrounded by lakes and docks and bridges, and the sky never failed to impress.





Fishing and reading. Lots of bug spray.



We took advantage of the sunny weather when we had it...


...and we spent a couple rainy days entertaining each other in the tent: playing games and other competitive activities, napping, supplementing our conversation with the Deutsch-Englisch dictionary and teaching each other phrases.
It's always the nasty stuff you learn first, but I can count in German now.



Of course we bbq'd, and I demonstrated my impeccable fire building skills.


That ball of tinfoil yielded perfectly roasted garlic cloves to accompany our steak and onions.


Ah, the inaugural marshmallow (by the way, this was about 10:30 pm).


One day we took a drive to 'the plateau', that is, the highest road in Sweden.



Ze German, becoming one with nature, in a manner of speaking...




Sånfjällets mountain off in the distance:



...which we climbed.

Remnants of glaciers, boulder fields, harsh chill and vast isolation.




At the end of two weeks, we're on the road to Stockholm, where we part ways.


The landscape is at times dramatic, sometimes serene, but always beautiful.

My nostalgia, my longing for Canada is relentless.




Traveling through northern Sweden has refreshed me in ways I can't describe.

European cities are wonderful, interesting and extraordinary, but forests, lakes and rivers do something different for my soul. Not more or less, just different.

Now I am ready for my final five weeks in some of Europe's great cities.