All packed for a four-day hike for the long weekend. Rucksack, clothes for tomorrow, water, breakfast rolls, camera, sunglasses.

I don’t enjoy packing or preparing for a trip. It feels like such a chore. Sometimes I end up not going out because the actual getting started takes so much energy. But now I have arranged for my brother to come cat-sit, so I’m officially committed and have to make it happen.

I was originally going to go for Kinnekulleleden, but couldn’t find a train. I don’t know if they’ve really sold out all tickets for tomorrow, or if there’s something else going on, but there was nothing. Instead it’ll be Sörmlandsleden. I’ve now come all the way to Hälleforsnäs, which is reachable by train, and three or four days of hiking from there will take me to Katrineholm, which also has a train station, so for once I can go forward only instead of doing a there-and-back.

This morning we had our usual conference talk and team coding session. Then after lunch our team activity for the day was a hike – either around Monte Isola, or to the top. Both options were very tempting but, as another photographically inclined colleague pointed out, from the top you only get one kind of views, whereas the walk around the island will offer more photo opportunities.

The island is surrounded by a ring road, mostly trafficked by mopeds. The south and west coasts have small villages dotted along the road, with the hotels and restaurants clustered at the south-eastern tip. The north had fewer, and the east mostly held the industrial underbelly: ferry quays, a recycling centre, a fire station.

When we got back it was time to pack up and prepare for the trip home.

I still struggle to fully take in the reality of the historic castle that we stayed in. There’s just… a giant centuries-old, hand-woven tapestry in the dining hall. Just hanging there, for anyone to poke at.

It’s quite worn and faded, and has been painstakingly restored at some point.

A similarly aged painting hangs in a random hallway corner. I’d expect museum lighting and a label, but it gets no particular attention.

I thought at first that it might be a modern painting, done in an old style to fit in, but with the ragged canvas and flaking paint, it really isn’t.

Some of the guest rooms/apartments were ex-ballrooms, complete with painted ceilings, candelabras, fireplaces and antique furniture.

A crisp, sunny day, with a dusting of fresh snow on the ground. It’s all bound to be replaced by gray skies and slush soon, I’m sure, so I hurried out.

Literally hurried: we had originally made entirely different plans for today, but Ingrid was feeling quite unwell, so this was a last minute idea, leaving me no time to pack or plan. Järvafältet nature reserve is my go-to place for a quick outing, and that’s where I ended up today as well.

There used to be a bird-watchers’ platform very close Säby gård, but it was torn down years ago. Too costly to repair, maybe. Now the only thing left of it is an odd dead-end stump of a path that goes very near the lake but stops just before, with a marshy wooded area in the way of a proper lake view.

With the ground all frozen firm, I skirted the trees and got all the way to the lake shore. The lake was under a thick layer of ice, and there were tracks going into the distance. Someone had also hacked into the ice in one place and the gouge was a good 7 cm deep, with no sign of getting through. Solid enough for me, so off I went on the ice.

I followed the tracks of two humans with a dog. A little bit away there were tracks of one skater and one skier. And here and there, going off in totally different directions: a hare, a fox, a deer, some unknown small creature. The deer went straight across. The dog followed the tracks of the unknown creature for a little bit, before getting called back.

I swung back along the other side of the long lake. Now there were two humans but no dog. The skater and skier were closer to the middle of the lake.

The circuit around the lake didn’t take me very long, maybe an hour and a half. Had I been walking on an ordinary path, I’d maybe have looked at the clock and decided to continue in some other direction. But this circuit felt so perfectly complete in and of itself that following it with something else would have been wrong, so that was that.

Revisiting stage 1 of Signature Trail Stockholm, roughly two years after the first time.

Same trail, same season, but different weather, and what a difference it makes. Last time was cloudy; today I had beautiful clear skies. There were rather more people around. Instead of a dreamlike atmosphere, it was bright and fresh.

Not that the sun was actually directly visible much of the time. It was there and it made a difference, but it was also mostly out of reach, even at high noon.

Last time was in February and the ice had settled on lake Mälaren. This time we’ve barely had any winter weather and the lake was mostly ice-free. At most there were thin slabs of ice in the most protected corner of the bay at Görväln.

An undulating layer of broken-up ice, like the skin of an ice dragon:

Lunch break at the same place as last year. I was hungry way before getting there but with the temperature being what it was, I really didn’t feel like sitting down in the shade somewhere. Knowing that, if nothing better came up, I’d have this spot at least, I kept going. The picnic table was perfectly positioned to get some sun on it. Nevertheless I ate as quickly as I could because it felt like my fingers were going to turn into icicles, despite thick gloves. Mittens are the only thing that really keep my hands warm but eating with them on is inconvenient.

The golf course towards the end of the trail was, like the rest of the trail, the same but not the same. Last year it was desolate in mist. This year – full of tobogganing kids and skiing adults.

Guess what we had today? Sunlight! Clear skies from morning till evening.

I went for a long walk around northern Järvafältet, mostly following the Järvaleden trail. Säbysjön to Översjön to Fäboda to Väsby gård to Hägerstalund and back to Säbysjön. Four and a half hours with barely a pause (because it’s cold to sit still in this weather) so maybe 18 km?

The temperatures have been around zero for a while. The ground was frozen in the shadier places that the sun doesn’t reach at all, and a bit muddy in sunnier spots. Even then, it was mostly just a thin layer of mud at the top and decently firm, frozen ground beneath it. Which was good, because I went out in my barefoot shoes, which are barely more than socks with a rubber sole and definitely not waterproof. But I managed to keep my feet dry.

Some of the smaller streams and ponds were covered in a thin layer of ice, but overall this winter is not wintering.

Last year I could go out skiing on Järvafältet in December. I know I skied on the ice on lake Översjön. This year there’s no ice in sight.

The woods near Hägerstalund look less like they’d harbour elves this time of the year, but I could imagine trolls, or ogres, I guess.

A bunch of folks from tretton37 went on an evening walk after work, on Järvafältet.

On the plus side: going for a nature walk after work was very relaxing. We saw the hairy cows at Väsby gård, and got some lovely evening light. And the company was good.

On the minus side: I was tired and starving when I finally got home, a good hour and a half later than I had expected.

What I thought would happen is that we meet up at 17 at Akalla, walk 4.5 km, and end up at Häggvik from where I can take the train or the bus home. Home by 19.

What I didn’t take into account was, firstly, that those 4.5 km didn’t start at Akalla station – we first had a 15-minute walk to the starting point of the hike. And the hike itself was maybe more like 6 km rather than 4.5. And there would be fika afterwards. And the hike didn’t actually end at Häggvik station, but only in its general vicinity (another 25-minute walk).

Woke up early again. The camping ground front desk, where I could pay for my stay and – more importantly – for a hot shower, wouldn’t open for another two hours. Rather than waiting, I made do with a cold shower and washed my hair in the sink (that dispensed hot water without any payment).

I made the rest of the time pass with a slow breakfast, and the usual slow drying of the tent, and watching the endless flights of geese pass overhead. At nine I paid for my stay and headed out.

A bus and two trains took me back to Stockholm.

Skogsby to Färjestaden. 17-ish km.

Woke up in a dripping wet tent, with slugs climbing up the netting of the door and flies everywhere between the two layers. The dripping part got its explanation the moment I got out of the tent – the entire meadow was wreathed in a thick mist.

I have, as usual, way more time than I need to walk the kilometres I have ahead of me. Today’s stage will take me closer and closer to civilisation, so I doubt there will be any interesting detours to take, and it might even be difficult to find secluded spots for breaks. So I might as well take my time and dry the tent and everything else here, and have a later start.

The grass on the ground was of course as wet as my tent, but I had the picnic table and bench at my disposal, and a dead tree behind it was as good as a wall organizer.

The tent itself I had to take apart and turn inside out to get all the flies out. Their only instinct when trapped was to try and fly higher up.

The trail continued among fields and farms. In addition to pumpkin and corn fields, there was also a sunflower field.

Otherwise my surroundings did indeed become more and more suburban. Small lanes at first, and then asphalt roads, and finally city streets. My feet were not happy about the latter.

And then – the end of the trail, at the Öland tourist information centre. Or technically the beginning, since I walked it backwards. I understand why they market it the other way, but I would argue that mine was better. It’s always preferable to walk south to north instead of the opposite, so I get the sun at my back and not in my face. And I rather liked the gradual reintroduction of society and all its trappings. The official way would have me start in a city and then walk further and further away – and then come back to it all with a big bang. I always find the end of a hike jarring, going from peace and quiet in the wilderness to the noise and bustle of a train station or a motorway. This way I could resurface more gently.

I can’t just put up my tent in a park in the city, so I headed to the nearest camping ground, which was luckily right next door.

Mine was the only tent on the camping ground’s tent field. Around me were hundreds of camper vans and camping trailers.

Once again I couldn’t pay on arrival, because the front desk was only manned from nine to five, which struck me as very odd opening hours for a place like this. Seriously, aren’t those the hours when the guests are least likely to need to talk to anyone? Wouldn’t it make more sense to be there in the evening when people are likely to arrive? Then again, if most people are here for weeks on end with their camping trailers, the front desk probably rarely gets any people actually arriving or leaving, and are more of a service desk, handling clogged toilets or broken lawnmowers and selling snacks.

Here is the bridge to the mainland, that I will be crossing by bus tomorrow.

Mörbylånga to Skogsby, 20-ish km.

I haven’t been able to sleep very well during this trip, for no discernible reason. My body is tired by nine in the evening and all I want is to lie down, but it takes a long time for me to fall asleep, and I keep waking through the night. Most of the time, the best I achieve is a kind of half-slumber, and maybe a couple of hours of proper sleep at best.

This night I woke up at three and it was clear that there was no going back to sleep. I played sudoku on my phone and read on my Kindle and listened to the birds until the pre-dawn light was enough to move around in. Packed and ready to go by six, before the sun was fully up.

Fairy tale forest in golden dawn light with gentle birdsong and a babbling brook:

18 km of walking on mostly flat and even ground only takes me 6 hours, breaks included, so I have a whole lot of time today that I need to spend somehow. Getting there too early is no good. The walking is already so meditative that I don’t need more hours of sitting around and doing nothing in the evening. And there is only so much reading and sudoku I can do. So: lots of photo breaks and exploring random things.

Here’s a bathing jetty.

I was having thoughts of breakfast by half past seven, but there was the usual question of water to be solved first. (I do keep enough of a reserve to have drinking water for at least half a day extra, but cooking porridge takes a lot of water.) I can’t go knocking on people’s doors at half past seven in the morning, though! Luckily there was a plumber’s van parked outside one of the houses I passed, with a plumber just leaving the house. It wasn’t his house, as I’d first guessed, but his presence meant there were people awake and around.

I got not only fresh water but also some of their home-grown apples. Better than the store-bought ones from yesterday, even those were also Swedish.

This stage of the Mörbylångaleden trail passes through the Beijershamn nature reserve. There was an attempt to establish a harbour here in the 1850s, and a 2 km long pier was built. The harbour failed because the sea streams deposited silt and mud until it became unnavigable. The pier remained, and the silted-up areas around it became a paradise for birds.

The area is a patchwork of nature reserves now, with boardwalks and platforms and viewing towers.

This was roughly the midpoint of my planned walk for today – and it was only ten o’clock in the morning. Time for a detour. I put my pack down just after the first cow stile and the last picnic table on the old pier, and walked most of the way to the end and back. It’s an odd feeling to walk on such a long and narrow strip of land, with the sea in touching distance on both sides.

The shallows on both sides were like bird soup. Waders and geese and ducks and the occasional swan, gulls and terns, and endless noise.

After Beijershamn the trail swung back inland, between fields. Lunchtime brought the usual challenge of trying to find shade. I ended up sitting in the shade of an oak tree, which sounds more scenic than it was, because on my other side was a derelict barn with a saggy door and bird droppings everywhere inside. Matched my backpack in colour scheme, though.

I deviated from the trail again to go through the little village of Eriksöre, with its old houses and barns.

Eriksöre is one of the many villages participating in Öland’s annual harvest festival, and its signature contribution seems to be pumpkins. There were pumpkin fields in all directions, with Halloween pumpkins, small decorative pumpkins, and eating pumpkins.

The stage ends at a hostel and biology research centre just south of Skogsby. I was hoping to set up camp in some meadow or yard near the hostel and use their facilities. But the hostel reception was closed due to the single member of staff being ill, and everything was locked up, so I didn’t get to use the bathrooms after all. They had a nice garden and a pretty meadow, which looked quite appealing – flat and newly mown. But as I was sitting there, contemplating my life, a literal busload of hockey players arrived. Dalen Hockey had apparently booked the main building of the hostel for some kind of team-building thing. They were all behaving in a very civilized manner and had adult minders and everything, but they were inevitably loud. So I waved good-bye to the rose garden and went onwards.

The first pasture, a kilometre later, looked very nice. Mostly flat and open, and with a large tree that I could sit and read under, and no smell or sign of recent cattle activity. I had put down my pack under the tree and was looking for the best tent spot when I found day-fresh cow pats instead. Where there’s cow pats, there’s bound to be cows, and I don’t want to wake up to a cow trying to get into my tent.

Onwards again.

The next meadow had a picnic table and an information plaque, and no cow pats. And it had lots of tall, uneaten sweet grasses like clover, which surely must mean that there will be no cows here. This is where I will stay.

Kastlösa to Mörbylånga, around 15 km. Hot.

As usual, the first order of business is topping up my water bottles. Kastlösa is a large enough village to have a small hotel, so I snuck into their bathroom and got fresh water, and also a chance to wash my hands and face with running water. There has been a significant shortage of washing opportunities on this trail.

Kastlösa also has small crafts workshops and antiquities shops that would probably be fun to visit, but as with most places I pass, they’re all closed.

From Kastlösa the trail follows small roads towards the western coast of Öland. On these roads you need to keep a lookout for tractors and farm machinery and trucks transporting produce, more than cars.

It’s harvest season. Some fields were already bare, others were being harvested as I passed them, still others were green and growing yet.

The fields were nice, even when bare, like the potato field above. Less nice was the chicken factory of Ölands kyckling. I’m sure they live up to the minimum levels of environmental regulation, but passing a large windowless barn that smells of nothing but chicken shit was depressing.

Same with cattle. Cattle roaming on the alvar or the seaside meadows do not smell noticeably, and neither do their cow pats. When the air is saturated with a smell of cow dung, it’s because I’m passing directly downwind of a barn – a large number of cattle in a small space.

Anyway, after a few kilometres I reached the sea shore and that was much nicer. As is becoming habit, I took a brunch break and dried my tent. The days can be as hot and dry as anything, but the nights and mornings are cool, and by morning, my tent is always dripping with condensation. In the cool morning air, it takes forever for the tent to dry, so I just roll it up as wet as it is and strap it on the outside of my backpack and start walking, and dry it later when the sun is high.

The beach here was fascinating. At first glance, it looked pretty though not spectacular.

Then I got closer, and it was all mucky, blackened seaweed, with clouds of flies buzzing around.

Just beyond the water’s edge, things got a lot more interesting to look at. White and pale pink strands of stuff, floating around together with delicate pinkish fluff. I have no idea what any of it is, or why it’s pink, but it was very pretty and had beautiful colours

I first clambered around on the tufts of dry black stuff, trying to find the firmer ones that wouldn’t give way when I stepped on them. Pretty soon I gave up, took off my boots and waded into the water. The black stuff looked unappealing but didn’t smell, and was not actually sticky or anything – after I stepped out again, my feet were wet but clean.

The water was very wader-friendly: shallow, and with a firm, flat limestone bottom. And amazingly hot! Not like a swimming pool but like a bathtub. It was surprisingly pleasant to walk around in.

I soon realized that I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed it. There were jellyfish everywhere.

First I saw one, then I saw another, and the more I looked, the more I found.

This was their place, not mine, so I left them to it and got out of the water.

From Risinge to Mörbylånga there was a mixture of small roads, gravel and asphalt, in between fields and small villages of summer cottages.

In the afternoon I reached Mörbylånga. On the minus side: asphalt roads and cars. On the plus side: supermarket! Fresh fruit and vegetables, the season’s last strawberries, local bread. Fruit and vegetables are difficult to carry with me on a hike – they’re heavy and fragile – but I could give a few of them special for the few remaining hours of this day.

Also, ice cream. This stage of the trail is a short one, and I’ve had to make an active effort to walk slowly and take long breaks, so as not to get to the end too early. I had plenty of time to stroll through the small town and sit in the harbour and enjoy my ice cream.

(Crappy phone photo? Yes. I’ve been taking one photo a day on my phone, so that I could share it with the family in the evening, as a sign of life. There was a major national news story just a week before I went on my hike, about a couple of hikers in Sarek who hadn’t returned from their hike as planned, and were being searched for by helicopter. I really wouldn’t want to cause anyone that kind of hassle, so I’m reporting daily on my location. Öland is of course nothing like Sarek in terms of remoteness, but since I’m on my own, stuff could happen.)

The stage ends in Mörbylånga and I guess you’re expected to stay at a hostel or something. Which I had no interest in, so I kept going for another kilometre or so, until my surroundings didn’t feel too urban any more.

I put up my tent in a little patch of pine wood just north of Mörbylånga.

The trees all slanted towards land, away from the sea.