I remember my own cuticles looking just as ragged when I was Ingrid’s age. And I have distinct memories of being told to not grip the pencil so hard.

The helpful advice made no difference, so I don’t try to pass it on. But years did: I no longer have a death grip on my pens.

My fingers and nails on the other hand honestly do not look much better now – I keep my nails short and neatly cut, but my cuticles are not pretty and during the gardening season there is often dirt under my fingernails that I just cannot get out.

Sälka hut to Kebnekajse mountain station, almost but not quite via Singi hut (26 km).

We are now back on the main Kungsleden trail, with red crosses to mark the trail, occasional snowmobile traffic etc. Just before Singi we left the main trail for a short while to cut off a corner, skipping the descent to the huts, and then rejoined the Kungsleden again slightly further to the east.

From Sälka to Singi things were still relatively quiet, but after Singi we were clearly approaching civilization again. The trail was wide and numerous skiers and snowmobiles had left their tracks. It was slightly downhill, and many sections looked like scaled-up corrugated cardboard: down and then slightly up again, repeated over and over. We pitied the few groups who were skiing the same section in the opposite direction, going up all those downhill sections.

My camera ran out of juice in the morning so the only photos I have are from the afternoon when we had reached Kebnekajse mountain station and its electrical outlets.

A mountain station is a hybrid between a hut and a hotel, which meant all kinds of luxuries: electricity, running water (showers!), a restaurant, fresh food, rooms with real beds and so on.

But getting back to this spot of civilization also meant that our trip was almost over. We were about to leave the peace and quiet behind and go back to crowds, noise, smells, stress, and all that. I felt sorry that it was coming to an end.

People go on hikes for different kinds of reasons. I tried to untangle my reasons and figure out what I actually get out of this kind of trip.

There are of course the general benefits of a well-planned and well-organized all-inclusive group vacation. I am not responsible for anything or anybody other than myself. I do not need to plan, prepare, manage, schedule or prioritize anything at all. This is a welcome change from my everyday life where I manage something almost all day long: a team at work and a household at home.

When it comes to hiking in particular, I like the physical challenge: exerting myself just enough, feeling my body do what it is supposed to do, and do it well.

I like the beauty of nature. I particularly like mountainous landscapes, and especially if there is also water of some kind. There is something special about mountains, about being above the world.

But above all I like the serenity, the peaceful silence, the lack of people and noise. I need this kind retreat into nature at regular intervals. Even just a few hours in a forest near home works, but this was of course many miles better. The snowy emptiness here was a bit extreme when it comes to serenity, but at times I wished that it could have been even more so: I wished I could have done this alone, to truly be away from people and not see a soul around me.

With these points in mind, this was a good hike but not the best one ever. An ideal hike would have had:

• More beautiful weather, with some blue skies.
• Slightly slower pace. Both in general, so I could relax more and not have to think about keeping up with the group, but also because it would give me more opportunities to take photos, perhaps even leave the path for better angles and views.
  This is of course a very personal preference and difficult to achieve when hiking with a group – if the whole group had to wait each time someone wants to take a photo, it would get annoying fast for the others. The group cannot spread out too far either, especially in winter when getting lost can be life-threatening.

Guess which one is mine.

It’s orange and pretty and soft. But it’s wearing out and beginning to look rather ragged. Today it got caught on a door handle and I ripped one of the buttonholes pretty badly. I will have to find a new coat somewhere. I am not fond of clothes shopping at the best of times, and I am extra not fond of clothes shopping when I really need to (or believe I really need to) buy something, and all the options are crap.

It’s Thursday so it was Ingrid’s turn to cook dinner again.

Today we got hajkbomb, which is a meal that probably only those with a background in Swedish scouting will recognize. It’s a meal designed to be cooked over the hot coals of a campfire, but a normal kitchen oven works equally well. A “bomb” is an aluminium foil package filled with any kind of ingredients: chopped vegetables, potatoes, meat if you prefer, etc. (Potatoes and other harder veggies need to be pre-cooked.)

As is often the case, Ingrid likes things to be the same as they normally are, so the hike bombs in our family always consist of potatoes, salmon, bell peppers and one or two other child-friendly vegetables.

It’s a quick and simple meal and would probably take me about half an hour to prepare, plus some time in the oven. Peel and dice the potatoes, chop the rest while the potatoes are cooking, wrap into foil packages, season, done.

It took absolutely forever for Ingrid. 80 minutes, to be precise. I was so bored and itching to actually do something (other than hover around and be ready to help her when needed, remind her to turn off the stove, etc). I was needed often enough that I couldn’t go off and read a book for example, but not often enough to actually keep me busy. I could perhaps have been even more hands off and let her figure more things out on her own, but everybody was so hungry that I felt I needed to direct her a bit to speed things up somewhat.

It was just like watching a junior programmer take an hour to painstakingly solve a task that in my mind should take all of 10 minutes. Excruciating. Frustrating.

But just like a junior programmer can’t get any faster unless they get to spend that hour on a 10-minute task, Ingrid can’t learn to cook unless she gets to practise, on her own, without me interrupting to tell her how to do things faster.

In fact the process of cooking this dinner reminded me of pair programming. The senior programmer takes on the navigator role – keeping an eye on the goal, making sure the pair stays on the right track, warning of upcoming obstacles. The junior programmer does all the actual coding. Just like we cooked: me making sure we are moving in the right direction, Ingrid performing all the actual cooking.

I was too tired to attend my workout session today and I miss it. I’ve only been doing it for two months (less, really, because of the Christmas break) and already it’s a habit and I’m hooked.

It took me a few tries to find a session that really works for me. What I found is cirkelfys – “functional circuit training” with a focus on strength and technique but also a fair amount of balance, flexibility, general fitness etc. The exercises include everything from pushups and burpees to deadlifts and kettlebell swings. I like the high intensity, the variety, and the fact that I pick my own weights and set my own pace.

It’s been years since I last did any kind of sports, apart from everyday exercise such as cycling and walking (not to forget shoveling snow!). I’m neither in great shape nor particularly out of shape. So I’m neither the strongest nor the weakest in the group. Which doesn’t say much because of course the group is self-selecting; the most out-of-shape people don’t go to the gym at all, and the ones in best shape do more intensive workouts.

But the group workout does give me a picture of my relative strengths and weaknesses. I notice which exercises I do with more or less ease than the people next to me. Many of the exercises use weights, and there’s a set of weights laid out for us to choose from. By now I know where to go straight for the lowest weight (because there is no chance that I’d manage to do the exercise properly with a heavier one) and where to aim higher.

I’ve got muscles for walking around and carrying things, but not for lifting, and especially not for lifting anything above my head. I have strong legs and a strong core, but puny arms and shoulders. Sit-ups and burpees and squats: bring them on! But I really with struggle pushups, barbell row and barbell clean.

• Took daily photos for most of the year, only taking a break just after Christmas when photography felt like yet another chore rather than something I really wanted to do. Also, attended a nature photo morning.
• Planted another part of the garden.
• Had the roof replaced.
• Picked up geocaching.
• Started working out. For several years I used to spend a good chunk of each afternoon walking and cycling back and forth across Spånga to pick up the kids. Now Ingrid walks home on her own, and I no longer walk to her Estonian lessons either because those have moved closer to her. And I realized I am not getting enough exercise any more. Hence, twice-weekly sessions at Friskis & Svettis.

Memorable events:

• Skiing trip with Ingrid.
• Volunteering with Vi gör vad vi kan. Not because my contribution was particularly significant, but as a sign of the times.
• Electricity cabinet fire

My handbag wore out. I am not quite sure how old it is, but I know I had had it for a while already when we moved from London back to Stockholm. I remember it being a bit worn already in 2009: during our company trip to Budapest that year I noticed a shop that had similar bags and thought I’d go there and get a new one, but I didn’t have time. Somehow I got another 6 years of use out of it, with repairs to the lining here and there.

Now one half of the magnetic clasp fell off and I had nothing to replace it with, so I couldn’t close the bag any more. It had definitely reached its end of life. I needed a new one.

After who knows how many years with a backpack handbag, I cannot imagine using anything else. It is so nice to have both hands free and not have to worry about the bag slipping off my shoulder. I can cycle; I can run with the kids when needed.

I googled. I ordered 4 backpack handbags from Zalando and sent them all back. I scoured Etsy. And I found nothing that worked! The main problem was all the bags I found were too large. Mine is not exactly tiny but it’s definitely a handbag, not just a leather backpack.

Finally I had the ingenious idea to google in Italian. After some trial and error I found handbags that seemed to match mine almost exactly. Awesome! I guess that company hired a designer at some point, got them to design ten or fifteen bags, and they’ve been making the same bags ever since.

Less awesome was the fact that the Italians were on vacation all of August, but didn’t say anything about that when I ordered, so I had to wait 6 weeks for my bag to arrive. But now it is finally here so we’re back to awesome again!

So grateful that I do not need to trek across a continent to save my family from war.
So grateful that I do not have to worry about my children drowning when crossing a sea in an overcrowded boat.
So grateful that I do not have to leave behind everything I own and try to build a new life from scratch in a strange place.

It’s hard for me to imagine being in a situation like that – and yet not so hard after all. After all, it’s not that long ago that Estonians were fleeing across the sea. Not in my lifetime, not in my mother’s – but in my grandmother’s.

In another timeline, it could have been me.

I could be living in Estonia still instead of having moved to Sweden as a child. Russia could have aimed their provocations at Estonia instead of the Ukraine. I could be trying to escape from war to a peaceful country on the other side of the sea.

I went to Skansen today with the kids, while Eric was away in Prague with work. You’d think that a place like that would offer a multitude of photo opportunities – all these activities, ice creams, pancake lunch, fairground rides etc. But it really isn’t. It’s all so crowded, I’m busy and distracted, Adrian mostly won’t step more than a meter away from me, Ingrid mostly wants to go off on her own and look at stuff in the shops… So even after a full day at Skansen, the day’s photo is of Adrian and Legos.