We’re finally out of the lowlands and into the hills. We’ve had six days of flat landscapes and broad skies, abundant tall beech trees leaning in to meet across long straight roads, and miles of windfarms. These countries get the need to address climate change; objections about turbines spoiling the view would be secondary, if not laughable, on mainland Europe.
Now we’re travelling through a land of islands in sparkling seas; long, spanning bridges, tiny unfenced fields, wooden houses amongst granite outcrops, and pine forests.
All the way there have been sinister-looking barns, with ventilation shafts and silos, housing cramped, stressed, and often diseased hens or pigs for the massive non-free-range market. Since France there’s been the constant anticipation of vehicles bursting out of side roads, assuming priority – unless you can see a yellow diamond telling you otherwise, and numerous city cyclists who either wait at zebra crossings or don’t, so that you can never tell (unless you’re local, presumably) whether stopping will cause more problems than not stopping.
But it’s a relaxed and beautiful journey from Lund, hugging the west coast of Sweden up to Norway. Chargers are predictable, and located very sensibly at service stations (or MacDonald’s). On Wednesday we visit Victorian Gothic coastal castle Tjoloholms Slott, where Peter came in 2005, and we camp on the coast at Gullbrandstorp. Our tiny blue Highlander is the only tent.
I have to get up during the night, and a thrush is singing softly in anticipation of the dawn chorus. This soon swells to glorious surround-sound, accompanied by the enthusiastic percussion of a corncrake.
On Thursday the Leaf takes time out, and we walk round the island of Marstrand from another campsite where we’re the only tent, occupying an area of green amidst a sea of camper vans and caravans. ‘Camping’ these days seems to mean parking your mobile home on a site with facilities, or visiting your second home, permanently pitched on the site. Maybe the people who like to throw up a little tent and light a fire, and talk, and maybe sing, and don’t mind not washing for a while, know places not shown in the tourist information camping guide. We’ll find such places in Norway.
We cross the border into that country on Friday afternoon, and find a rather fine place to stay for the last night of our journey. Booking on the same day means we’ve been able to get some good room deals, and that’s how we’re now at the Hankø Hotel and Spa, on an island reached via a little ferry with an Icelandic captain. The Leaf stays in a carpark on the mainland, fully charged and ready to go.
After supper we discover we’ve been invited to stay tomorrow in a lakeside cabin at Baldron in the Woods, where our hosts for the next three months run a biodynamic farm. Then we’ll travel on to Oslo, where we’ll be living in a flat above the Baldron Health Clinic.
Although tonight feels like the end of a journey, and tomorrow a new beginning, we’re not quite there yet…