All this talk of Sweden
I can't think of less likely subject than Sweden to get caught in the middle of a Trump mess. But with all this talk, I'm inspired to make some progress digging our way out from the blog backlog and post some pictures from our magical five days sailing around the Stockholm archipelago with two gracious hosts, Adrienne and Erik.
AP, as we lovingly call her, and Erik are Colorado residents. But Erik was born and raised in Sweden, and he still has some healthy ties with the country, namely his sailboat. They spent some quality time on the boat this summer, and since Dave and I were only a short flight away, we hopped on a United-miles-ticket and joined them for a long weekend.
First, I want to acknowledge how awesome it is that in some corners of the job market today, many of us have the flexibility to design our own schedules and to work remotely. Don't get me wrong, I have responsibility and accountability, and I often work way too long or way too late at night. But the other side of that coin is that I have earned (Dave, too!) the trust of my boss, so we're in a lucky position to jet off to, say, Sweden, work for a day or two from a cafe, and then sail away for the weekend.
So that's what we did in mid-July.
We flew into Stockholm, and through a series of buses, taxis, and foot (all which Dave successfully and generously researched and planned), we landed at AP and Erik's home port of Saltsjöbaden. Dave and I worked for the day from a deck with a terrible view (see picture below), then eagerly made our way to their dock, hopped on board to Welcome brews, salmon, and the best gosh darn butter I have ever had. Literally. Seven months later, I'm still thinking about this stuff. Come to think of it, there is probably a Swedish grocery in Munich.
Erik showed us the ropes (literally and figuratively). A sailboat is a mini, moving, floating house that doubles as transit. So everything has a purpose, a place, a process. It all makes sense, but it took some education for me and Dave to take in, and AP and Erik were kind enough to tell us twice if we forgot.
The next day we set sail under Erik and AP's great co-captainship. The two of us didn't exactly do much in the way of "sailing" ourselves, but it was fun to watch the skill and experience of our hosts. My biggest claim to fame was pulling in the fenders quickly after launch so that we 1) set a good example, but 2) don't look like an ocean-equivalent of a gaper.
The next four days were filled with some of the most beautiful sunsets, lots of catching up, cold beer, plenty of gravlax, lots more Bregott, reading, stand-up-paddle-boarding, talking with strangers, arguing with strangers, and sauna. Lots of sauna.
Dave said he wasn't a sauna guy, but he sure seemed to be on this trip. On almost each rock island we stopped at, there was another little wooden structure, always built next to the water. Behind each sauna is an ax and huge piles of wood to be chopped - the heat comes directly from nature (after the local authorities drop off the wood). So in you go, and when you get too sweaty to stand it, out you go diving into the sea. Rinse and repeat: into the sauna you go again.
We ended the trip in an adorable Swedish vacation town called Sandhamn. If you ever find yourself in the Stockholm archipelago, this place will probably make your itinerary. And it should. If for no other reason than for the bread at a small village bakery, Sandhamns bageri.
Before this trip, I had mistakenly boxed sailing into a corner - that it was a leisure activity for the most elite. That it was the glamping of outdoor activities. But what I learned on this trip is that to sail the way AP and Erik sail, requires you to have a deep, connected relationship with the environment. You need to know not just your instruments, not just your tools, but you also need to know how to read maps, how to read the weather, how to read the way land and water interact. You need to be much more connected to earth, wind, and fire than I ever imagine. So for that alone, I'm grateful.
I was also given insight into Swedish sailing culture. Parking at remote rocks far out in the ocean - or in a more formal setting is easier when people help. And if they're around, they hop out of their boat to help you navigate yours. Loading the wood-burning sauna with freshly cut logs is a community responsibility. Sharing is welcome, if not common. Living on the water in this nordic land can be as collaborative and community focused, or as individual and intimate, as you want. I digged it.
Thank you to AP and Erik for letting us into your world for a hot minute. We adore you, and we treasure this trip.
[Regretfully, we have no pictures of the sauna! Our memories alone will have to suffice.]
