Råbäck to Såten, 8 km.


My autumn hike in the Fells was just beginning to turn into a tradition when I had to interrupt my streak. I’ve hiked in Jämtland three autumns in a row now. This year won’t be the fourth. Spending my nights with strangers – first in a sleeper train and then in cramped mountain huts – does not seem like a good idea, given the increasing numbers of people testing positive for covid-19 in Sweden.

So I had to come up with alternative arrangements. And perhaps this is a good thing, pushing me to try new things. I took one step outside my comfort zone with the three-day hike of Sörmlandsleden in September. That worked, so I’m doing a similar thing again: packing my tent and food for a few days, and hiking on my own with no huts or such.

This time I’ll be walking the Kinnekulle path. I’ve seen it mentioned several times as a lovely hike especially in autumn, and it’s reachable by train, and it’s a three-day hike so I can do it in a long weekend – perfect in all ways. Plus it’s in western Sweden, so it’s hopefully going to look rather different from Sörmlandsleden, which is beginning to feel a bit monotonous by now.


The Kinnekulle path totals 45 km according to official stats. At a reasonably leisurely pace, that’s a three-day hike for me. But the train rides there and back add another day. I arrived in Råbäck shortly after two o’clock this afternoon. I’ll do half a day’s worth of walking today, then two full days, and another half-day on Sunday.

Råbäck train station has one of those lovely old station buildings, loudly proclaiming that this station has been more important in the past. Now the station building has been turned into a residential one, and the village mostly consists of summer cottages. You can see some old postcards from the station’s heyday here.


The path first winds along country lanes through the grounds of Råbäck manor to Råbäck harbour. Again a place that clearly has seen more activity in the past. The harbour is large and solid, clearly built for substantial traffic. It was used for shipping out limestone from the local quarries. The old stonemasonry workshop right next to the harbour, closed since the 1970s, is a museum now but was unfortunately closed today.



From the harbour the path goes through deciduous forest, following the tracks of an old tramway, straight like an arrow, to an old limestone quarry.

There are ruined limestone walls here and there in the forest, and various other signs of past habitation: gate posts, cellars, traces of the foundations of buildings, the remains of limestone quarries and kilns.

It felt strange to be walking among so many traces of history. Slightly sad, that all this is now come to nothing. But then again, what else would we do with old buildings that are no longer needed? It’s nice that there are still traces of them, so they aren’t completely gone.



I was really lucky with the weather! Mid-October can bring anything – I could have been walking in freezing rain. But I had bright sunshine most of the afternoon and evening, with only light cloud cover some of the time, and beautiful autumn colours to look at.

I camped for the night next to a shelter near the Såten nature reserve. It wasn’t even twilight when I stopped, but by the time I was done with dinner, it was full dark. I sat and read outside the tent for a while, but moved inside when it got colder, so I could cover my legs with the sleeping bag. It got really cold at night. Every time I turned the other side, I woke of the cold, and had to tuck the sleeping bag closed around my neck again.

The most memorable moment of today was seeing the night sky when I went out for a last trip to the loo. The sky was clear – and so full of stars! I hadn’t realized that Kinnekulle was so far from lit-up cities. I could even see the Milky Way, which I haven’t done since our stay in Mercantour in 2016. Had I not been shivering with cold, I could have watched the stars for a long time.


Today we made chestnut creatures, as is our tradition. Adrian provided the chestnuts.

Intense concentration.

When we were poking around among the chestnuts in the bowl and commenting on the lack of choice, Adrian went off and came back with his school backpack, which contained at least another kilogram of chestnuts. Small, large, flattish or round – now we have lots of all sorts. They filled not just another bowl, but an entire large dish.

I was glad when Ingrid joined us. She’s been less interested in family activities recently. Teenagers, you know.

The naturalistic ones: camel, rabbit, hedgehog, pigeon, caterpillar.




The more fantastical ones: a sheep that can walk on water; a man with a triple jetpack.

And two space aliens.


The world looks gloomy, but still mostly green.


After a long delay, I’ve finally finished the hole for the plum tree.

This time of the year I just don’t have much energy, so even tasks that don’t take much time tend to not progress. But now I think I’m finally done.

The rock at the bottom really puzzles me. It feels so incredibly smooth that it’s hard to believe it has a natural origin. It feels more like a polished paving stone. But there is a slight curve to it, so I guess it’s not man-made. Weird.


Thick clouds of steam rise from the wooden deck as the morning sun heats it and makes the dew evaporate. I tried to capture it in a photo but the image really doesn’t do it justice.


Ingrid came down crying because of a sudden sharp pain in her foot. A minute later, clear signs of an insect bite appeared.

“Oh right, I’ve been having a lot of wasps in my room for the past few weeks, maybe it was one of those.”

Apparently this hadn’t struck Ingrid as significant enough to bring up, so she’s just been taking the wasps out as and when she spots them.

When Eric opened the side attic behind Ingrid’s desk, he was met by a whole bunch of wasps there. It seems we have a nest somewhere in the walls. Not for the first time – but them coming inside rather than going outside is a first.

The side attic is now closed off and all the gaps hopefully wasp-proofed. We’ll have to wait until the wasps all die for winter and then we can clean them out.


It’s peak chestnut season, and all of Adrian’s pockets and half of his school rucksack are filled with newly picked chestnuts. He just has to pick them all.


I have no more scarf to knit, so I picked up a long-paused crocheting project to fill the gap.

This started out as a travelling project because it’s small and lightweight and easily transportable. If I left it as such, it would take years to finish, now that there is nearly no travelling going on…

It goes fast because there’s so much air in it. It’s mostly holes, after all. I guess it’s time to start planning the next project right away.


We went to see her, one last time, even though we knew she was asleep much of the time and might not even wake up to notice our presence.

It felt oddly intimate to visit someone who is asleep.

She was there, and yet it was almost not her any more. She has always been alive and warm-hearted and vivacious, and this person here is so emphatically not, so how can it be her? This person was closer to being dead than to being her.

When we thought she had months to live, it was only weeks. When we thought it was days, it was just hours.

She died a few hours after we left. It does not seem real.


A raindrop, on a sweet pea tendril.