The day we found our freedom in Sweden
THE ‘motorhome wave’ — a rather discreet, threefinger, Masoniclike salute to fellow motorhome drivers (and there are an awful lot of them in Sweden) — comes naturally.
But it takes us a full day to master everything else about our luxurious new 4.5-ton home.
The gargantuan size of the Swift Toscane vehicle, the ‘blind’ reverse, the sofas that turn into beds, the endless windows that open and close at unexpected angles, not to mention the unsecured salt and pepper pots that fly about in the back as my husband tackles Swedish bends with gusto.
Soon the endless pine forests are blurring past outside as we embark on our eight-day family odyssey of Southern Sweden, across Smaland from Jonkoping (where the 130m deep lake has only just thawed) right down to the sandy beaches on the island of Oland, reached by a magnificent four-mile bridge.
‘How many trees are there here, Mummy — 5,000? 6,000? A gazillion?’ ask sons Freddy, six, and Sandy, five.
About 3.2 billion, at the latest count. But the verges also billow with wild lupins, lilac, poppies and clouds of cow parsley. The sky is brilliant blue, the roads are deserted and blue and yellow flags flutter everywhere.
Naturally, everything works perfectly, including our (surprisingly spacious) shower and chemical loo.
Swedish men are strong and firm and look like they could knock up a log cabin, after first chopping down the necessary trees and slaying a moose or two while they’re at it.
The women spend a lot of time ‘taking fika’ — stopping everything they’re doing at least twice a day, every day, to drink coffee, eat delicious, dense cinnamon buns and chat — and living the ‘ lagom’ way.
Roughly translated, lagom means ‘ not too little, not too much’. It is central to the Swedes’ approach to everything from their homes (small, unshowy and invariably painted dark red) to their choice of car (Volvo).
Once the sun pops out after eight months of winter, the entire population rushes outside with deckchairs, canoes, inflatable beach balls and very small bikinis to tilt their beautiful pale faces up to the sun. They hurl themselves into icycold lakes, barbecue pork ribs on the extravagantly beautiful beaches, hike, cycle, kayak and swim. But most of all they camp. Camping and motorhoming is very lagom. Sweden boasts endless fantasti c campsites such as Saxnas camping, Granna Campsite in Granna and the wonderful Habo Camping near J o n k o - p i n g , which, as well as offering hot chips, immaculate loos (everything in Sweden is immaculate, thanks to their national mantra of ‘leave as you find’) and a beautiful beach, has its very own on-site cheese shop.
Even in poor weather, there are lots of attractions which are wholesome and fun and display a refreshingly relaxed attitude to health and safety.
Based on the imagination of the Pippi Longstocking author, Astrid Lindgren’s World, in Vimmerby, is a plastic-free oasis of ferns, trees, castles and of activities that mostly involve climbing trees and falling into water; Kyrkekvarn pony riding involved being shown your (teeny) steed, directed to the bridle path and asked if — when you’ve had enough — you could kindly untack it and stick it back in the field.
Pretty much everything at the Isaberg Mountain Resort — dirt-bike riding, climbing and assault course for us —produces enormous bruises and wide smiles. And at the crystal factory Glasriket, we are allowed to wander free range past fiery furnaces and watch as our ecstatic sons blew their own boiling hot glass bubbles.
But Kalmar’s Elk Park is a highlight. Here we meet Sylvia, Astrid and Ferdinand, admire their velvety muzzles and feed them birch branches — and then head back to a log cabin where we barbecue elk burgers and marvel some more at how tasty they are.
In an expensive country, motor homing is a fantastically cheap option particularly if, like us, you alternate campsites and the wild.
If you are tempted by a family motor- homing holiday — and you should be — Sweden is the place to do it.
Off main roads, when the sun is out, it is wild and beautiful and provides the sort of holiday we all remember from our childhood, but probably never had.