Sweden 2024, High Coast

watercolor sketchbook 15 x 11 cm

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  I was originally supposed to join a group of travellers on a challenging trek in the remote mountains of northern Sweden. Due to health issues, I finally had to change my plans. I decided to walk the St. Olaf Pilgrimage Trail. This time, I would follow the historical route from Selånger, Sweden, westward in the direction of Trondheim, Norway. I had no ambition to go fast, and I knew that the railway was within reach if anything happened.

  It was a nice plan. But from the beginning, something didn’t feel right. The familiar sign of Olaf’s cross led me along wide roads through open countryside, where the sound of the A14 motorway was constantly present. It didn’t disappear even at night, no matter where I pitched my tent. After three days, I suddenly knew that I didn’t want to continue like this.

  What now?

  To cut a long story short: during the third night, it was as if another part of me took over the whole journey. I let go of plans and surrendered to unexpected opportunities that suddenly occurred.

  The next afternoon, I’m sailing on my friends’ small boat across the Gulf of Bothnia. We spend the night in a tiny boat cabin with a guitar, singing songs of all nationalities. The next day, they say goodbye to me a good few Swedish miles further north, on the rugged coast of Höga Kusten.

  Then the real journey begins. Moments of fear, wet cold, exhaustion… I’m not prepared. The season is long gone, the people have disappeared, and my route is ultimately determined by the weather and hunger.

  One night, in an open shelter just above the sea, I am awakened by a strange light. August 30th. It takes me a moment to understand. The greenish sky and water, phosphorous streaks between the stars… It’s not possible, it’s still summer! But it is. My first aurora borealis.

  From that moment on, everything seems to fall into place. At the right moment, I meet the right person who takes me to the right place. For a few days, I can walk lightly and paint, my watercolors paying for my accommodation. I crawl through the rocky coastline, dive into the white moss, and on one sunny day, into the sea.

  It’s as if every step I take has a meaning and a purpose. I wouldn’t change a single moment in retrospect.

  I paint and write. I am absolutely present. And my confidence grows stronger.