Sylarna to Storulvån.

Today’s hike overlaps with one leg of the Jämtland triangle, the most marketed and publicised part of the network of hiking trails in Jämtland. I was so disappointed – and so glad that I had been walking elsewhere the other days. Had I only seen the triangle, I would have gone home wondering what the big deal was, why would anyone want to go hiking here?

It barely felt like being in the mountains. In part I guess I was spoilt by the magnificent views of the last two days. Here the landscape was bland in comparison – less hilly, less varied, less colourful, less wild. But in part the trail was simply destroyed by the sheer amount of people there.

It wasn’t so much due to the number of people I actually met on the trail. They were many – around eighty, which is about ten times as many I saw on any of the other days! – but not so many that I was constantly surrounded by people. But the near-constant presence of hundreds of people on the trail had worn it down until I was walking not on a path but a wide rocky field of mud.

Alpine flora is tough in a way, but it cannot survive being trampled by thousands and thousands of feet. Because of this, information boards remind hikers to stay on the trail, but I only saw one or two such signs at the mountain stations, so most hikers probably never noticed them. They see the muddy, rocky trail and it is no fun to walk on – and it really isn’t – so they decide to walk just a little to the side. And the next person does the same, and the next hundred do the same, and the ground “just a little to the side” becomes a part of the muddy, rocky field. Even worse: biking was allowed on these trails. I don’t understand how anyone can think this is a good idea. Wherever the bikers decided to leave the path (and I can understand their decision, biking over rocks the size of half my head seems nearly impossible) they left destruction behind them. In some areas the path had multiplied into five or six paths; in others it was literally a single 6-metre-wide “path”. Almost worse than walking on a road, except for the lack of cars.

So today was almost zero nature experience, just plenty of exercise in fresh air. Which isn’t a bad way to spend a day. It was all downhill as well, so (with my poles to help me) my pace was about twice as fast as the previous days. For the record, I normally reckon with 3 km/h (including all breaks) when I hike the Sörmlandsleden trail. Here my pace was under 2.5 km/h on average, except for today. Today I ended up taking a long lunch break shortly before the end of the hike, because otherwise I don’t know what I’d have done with the rest of this day.

But – there was nothing photo-worthy to this hike. So instead I’m cheating a bit and posting a selection of macro photos from the past three days.

What I learned from this hike:
(The scrum master/software developer in me cannot “close” a project without holding a retrospective.)

  • 20 km is the maximum for a day in mountainous terrain, and 2.5 km/h is reasonable to plan around.
  • Avoid any trail that seems really popular.
  • Keep the pack at 15 kg or less.
  • Start each day’s hike early in the morning. If there is a large group staying in the same hut, and they might be going in the same direction as me, make particularly sure to leave a good while before them.


It’s easy to say that I should aim for a lighter pack, but not so easy to achieve… There wasn’t much in my pack that I could have done without, or would have wanted to be without. Each extra that I start considering comes with a “but”.

The one thing I might leave behind next time is the water bottle. I don’t get very thirsty when I hike, except on the very hottest days, and I could have managed easily with just the thermos flask.

The heaviest extra was my big camera. But even though it’s heavy, I would still pack it again if I were to re-do this trip. The macro photography took this trip to another level for me – it makes me stop and see things that I otherwise wouldn’t even notice. However next time I will only bring the macro lens, leave the “normal” lens at home and only use my compact camera for any non-macro shots. Or perhaps look for lighter-weight macro kit.

The snacks and dinner extras were heavy. The snacks lasted me almost exactly to the end of my trip, so the quantity was not excessive in any way. Maybe I could have brought less and bought more in the huts every day, but the range of goods they had in stock this close to the end of the season was very variable, and I’m not sure I’d want to rely so much on shopping there. One of the huts had run out of pasta as well as rice; another sold me their last half cup of lentils; none of them had any eggs left.

The spare clothes were an extra. I packed one extra of everything, and never needed the spare trousers or fleece jacket. Which was expected: I packed them just in case. I forded that one river without falling, but one of the ladies I met in the huts had fallen into the water while crossing a river and came out soaked. That could have been me.

A heavy pack feels even heavier if it doesn’t sit well. Which I knew, of course, but noticed extra clearly this time. In fact this may be part of the reason why the pack felt so heavy the first day. I was experimenting with various ways of attaching my big camera to the shoulder straps, on the front of the pack, so I could reach it easily without having to take the pack off my back every time I wanted to take a photo. Day two, I put the camera away because of the rain – and noticed that my pack felt lighter this way. I tried hanging it off one of the straps, or two, further up, lower down – but whichever way I tried, it felt heavier than having it inside the rucksack. So that’s where I ended up having it. It was somewhat inconvenient, so then I didn’t use it for landscape photos, but for macro photos I normally took a bit of a break anyway and put my pack down, so then it made less of a difference.


Gåsen to Sylarna.

Today was a repeat yesterday, in the best of ways. Beautiful and wild. (And just as windy as yesterday, and with clouds so low I was walking through them. I almost ended up skipping lunch because the wind was so strong, but then I finally found one large, lonely boulder in the otherwise open grassland and huddled in its lee.)

A new experience for me today was fording a river. I crossed one yesterday as well, but that one had enough rocks in it that I could get across with a few agile hops, keeping my feet dry. A group of runners came along just as I got to today’s river, and some of them managed to get across by jumping between rocks, with their light packs and long legs. But with my pack, the risk of losing my balance was too great, so I had to wade through a part of it. The water was shallow – up to mid-calf maybe – but ice cold of course. I’m glad I only had to take a few steps in it.

I wonder if the word vad, which means “calf” in Swedish, is related to vada which means “wade”.

I was also very grateful for my walking poles. I hesitated when packing them, but decided to bring them after all, and I’m glad I did. I didn’t use them much on Thursday, but on yesterday’s and today’s rocky, uneven paths they were great to have. Not that it was difficult to walk without them – but with them, I could walk without thinking so much about the actual walking.

Most hikers seem to use poles the same way as when skiing: the arms swing back and forth in the same rhythm as the legs, and the poles help propel you forward. At least on uneven ground, like here, I plant a pole once every two steps, roughly, but in fact I’m not even sure my arms and legs really move in sync. I use the poles less as extra motors and more like feelers or tentacles. They provide extra contact with the ground, so I have two or three points of contact almost all the time, which means I can be somewhat sloppy about where and how my feet land. They allow me to “flow” forward over the ground, if that makes sense.






Vålåstugorna to Gåsen.

This! This is what I came here for. Wide open views of rolling rocky hills, grassland and shrubland in autumn colours.

A narrow thread of a path cuts through the shrub. Lots of little streams cross the path or run parallel with it (or in some cases, on the path).

Because the path is so narrow, it’s almost like it doesn’t exist. There is just enough of it so I can put my feet down on somewhat level ground and don’t have to watch every step – but no more. The vegetation comes right up to me, so I can see all the lovely tiny plants, and really feel that I am right in the middle of them.

I thought waterfalls would be beautiful, but I loved the little streams best. Waterfalls are noisy, whereas the trickle of a stream over rocks was truly like music to my ears. I made a point of pausing for a moment to listen and enjoy each one.

Apart from the streams, the only thing I could hear was myself. I saw and heard a very few little birds, but apart from that, no one.

The day was overcast and drizzly and windy, so there was no avoiding the waterproof jacket or its hood, which rustles, unfortunately. Luckily I had the wind at my back – I rather pitied the few hikers I met going in the other direction.


The start of a four-day hike in Jämtland.

I started in Vålådalen today, and my planned route is Vålådalen – Vålåstugorna – Gåsen – Sylarna – Storulvån. (Here’s a map of the mountain trails in Jämtland.)

Why this route? I chose endpoints that I could easily get to using train and bus. To keep my pack relatively light, I’m staying in STF accommodation rather than a tent. I’m sure there are people out there who would tell me to just buy ultra lightweight stuff, but I haven’t invested in that, and I quite like having an actual bed, and a stove to cook on, and a loo.

I also chose to mostly stay away from the “Jämtland triangle” between Sylarna, Storulvån and Blåhammaren. Lots of people walk it and love it, and it’s kind of the obvious choice for hiking in Jämtland – but even though I’ve never been there, I get strong vibes of “not my thing” about it. Those three STF facilities are basically hotels, not mountain huts, so I expect them and the trails between them to be crowded, and the whole experience to be focused on convenience and “hiking lite” rather than a real nature experience. Prejudiced, perhaps, but that’s what I chose.

Today I walked from Vålådalen to Vålåstugorna.

It was a tiring day.

At 20 km, today is the longest of the four days. Plus my pack was at its heaviest since I haven’t started eating into it yet. Plus I slept like crap on the sleeper train so I started out really, really tired. Plus half of the day was uphill (and the rest was not downhill to compensate, but flat).

The last few hours I didn’t enjoy much at all, and mostly spent looking forward to arriving at the hut.

My surroundings during the first half of the day were quite forested – pine and spruce at lower altitudes and mountain birch later on. At times the forest opened up into a boggy meadow. Of the mountains themselves, I only got occasional glimpses here and there.

Later in the afternoon the landscape started looking more like what I had been expecting and looking forward to – beautiful wide views of open grassland and shrub, with little lakes and streams here and there.


Three breakfasts, the best parts of three dinners (most flavour for least weight), plus cooking oil and spices.

I am wondering if the coconut cream is worth the weight.


There probably won’t be many more summer-warm, sunny days this year. We grabbed this one like the last chance that it probably is, and cycled to the beach at Kanaanbadet. Well, I mostly thought we would cycle to the garden café and eat there, and only packed swimming clothes just in case. But the kids went straight into the water. Ingrid tried out the diving platform and later even convinced me to jump from it together with her. At about 3 metres it’s near the limit of what I’m comfortable with, but having just convinced her that she could do it, I couldn’t really say no.

Adrian meanwhile cannot really swim yet and doesn’t like even semi-deep water so he climbed around on the cliffs.

The lunch and cakes at the garden café were excellent but the wait for getting our food felt like an eternity.


Section 11 passes through a fascinating area of pine forest west of Järna, with dozens and dozens of old mining holes.

In my mind I had never connected the name Järna to järn (“iron”). It’s always just been a name to me. Now I know better.

Some holes were just vague indentations in the ground, partly filled with earth. Others were filled with water instead, and looked pitch black because of the depth and the dark rock bottom. Some were actual roofless tunnels that you could walk in. There were also ruins of utility buildings from the mining era.

Today I actually saw other hikers on the trail. (There were also people in Järna but they don’t really count.) I ran across a few campers near a spring, and two French hikers. The French couple walked at roughly the same pace as I did but we timed our breaks differently, so we kept passing each other whenever one of our parties had stopped. I think I passed them three times and they passed me twice, until I left the main trail and turned onto the connecting trail to Mölnbo.

Section 12:1 goes along the shore of a lake for quite a while, and had some nice views to offer. The path was dusty and the day was hot, and I had a pleasant break at the lake and bathed my feet.

There were plenty of bilberries in the woods – enough for me to eat my fill and tire of them. Luckily there were also bog bilberries (which I haven’t previously found much of in Sörmland) and raspberries, to provide some variety.

Snake skin




Day 1 of a two-day hike along Sörmlandsleden.

Section 9 goes through central Södertälje and is unlikely to go down in history as anyone’s favourite, least of all mine. I understand why it exists, and it was my own choice to walk it, and if I had to make the decision again then I’d probably make the same choice. But it was rather dull.

Section 10 was pretty typical Sörmland. Some open fields in the beginning, and then rocky pine forests with bilberry bushes. I notice here that all my photos are of the open areas – the whole section definitely didn’t look like this. The fields with their ripening heads of grain just felt so much like late summer.

This was my first solo overnight hike. I had a heavier pack than I normally walk with (sleeping bag and stove and all that, and more food of course) so I was slower than usual. I didn’t know exactly how much the pack would slow me down, so I was a bit worried that I would arrive very late at my planned camping spot. I needed to find the spring which was supposed to be there, so I’d have water for cooking dinner, and I didn’t want to have to look for it in the dark. So my walking was at times less relaxed than usual, and my breaks shorter. (I am a worrier, though I make an effort to avoid it.) In the end I got to the campsite shortly after seven in the evening, which still left me enough time before dark.

I cooked myself an excellent dinner – a hearty stew with carrot and tomato and lentils and wheat grain. Then spent some time reading while there was still enough light from my campfire and the setting sun. Then applied one last layer of mosquito repellent, and went to bed. The mosquitoes were repelled enough to not bite me, but they kept buzzing so close to my face that I had to use earplugs in order to be able to sleep.


Hiking around Lizard Point today, Britain’s most southerly point.

Today was the first truly sunny day we’ve had all week, and after a week of clouds and rain we were quite unprepared for this. We didn’t even think to pack swimming clothes for the kids, and only realized our mistake when we got to Kynance Cove and saw all the bathers there. (Plus, last time we were here 15 years ago it was April, so in my mind I never connected the beaches here with bathing.) Adrian splashed around in his underwear, but Ingrid was rather disappointed.

We haven’t had much luck with lunch spots during our walks here, but today’s was beautiful. (The first one was in a thistly corner of a weedy meadow; the second one was similar but with added rain.) Today we found a sunny little nook among the rocks overlooking another beach. Quite close to the path in reality, but with the exposure it felt like we were on top of the world.

I’ve really been enjoying English sandwiches we’ve had for lunch (cheese ploughman’s! egg and tomato!) and the luscious yogurts with flavours one can only dream of in Sweden (gooseberry! rhubarb!).


After yesterday’s sightseeing, we went for a walk today, at Bodmin moor. The Cheesewring draws the biggest crowds, but I found the other, similar pile of rocks next to the Cheesewring more pleasing to the eye. But I guess it’s less exciting since it looks somewhat less ready to topple.

Even more interesting than any of the rock formations were the dozens of old, abandoned mining buildings dotted around the landscape. All still standing and looking strong (albeit roofless), over a hundred years after they were abandoned. I wish I could have seen each and every one of them up close.

Today also turned out rainy. Not so much that it really bothered us, except during lunch and snack breaks. Sandwiches get soggy when it rains on them. And once we got down from the moor, “wet” also meant “muddy”. Very muddy. Ideally we’d all have had rubber boots for this walk, but there’s a limit to how much you can pack for a one-week trip… So we came home with thoroughly sodden feet.