Last push north

July 24, 2017

Älvsjöhyttan to Lake Siljan

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I slept surprisingly well in the little changing hut. Nearby was an earth closet outhouse, which felt like a bit of a luxury. There was no running water, but the lake was so clear and clean - albeit slightly orange from all the iron ore in the vicinity - I simply took a couple of litres from the end of the jetty and sterilised it. Tasted good!

This was all to the good, because I had a long day, perhaps my longest today and over remote and hilly territory if I was to reach the lake. I was set on this now - there was no other aim in site, and I would need the luxuries of a proper campsite and a rest day after being in the wild for three days. I had at least 110 km to cover, with just two small settlements - Fredriksberg and Nås - before got to the lake.

After I said a fond farewell to the lake, I was soon back on the asphalt road, and on my way. The day was cool but clear, and the sun was coming out. Before long I was crossing out of Värmland - I would be back - and into my final region, the huge province of Dalarna which occupies much of central Sweden up to the Norwegian border. Another cheer for crossing the border.

Entering Dalarna Län - the final stretch North!

At this point in the day I was pretty happy, if dishevled.

I dropped down into Fredriksberg while it was still early morning. Since it was the only village of size I would be passing through the whole day, I stopped for supplies. The minimarket was surprisingly busy with holidaying Swedes.

The land rose up beyond Fredriksberg, and I pulled myself up past more picturesque lakes. There were little open spaces now: the land was wooded and rolling, the roads empty, and the settlements non-existent. I pushed on towards Lindesnäs, a hamlet, and the edge of my second map. I was officially entering "Central Sweden" now!

The main road in Fredriksberg. Distances now start to be measured in dozens of kilometres - it is 33km back to Gåsborn, the next village.

One of very many hunters' "turrets" that I saw dotted throughout the woods. This one was particularly tall, camoflaged and impressive

Map changing ceremony: hello "Central Sweden"!

I had covered the distance, over 40km, quite quickly, but was already feeling hungry and so decided to find somewhere for lunch while the lakeside scenery was still good: I knew that beyond Nås and the crossing of the broad Västerdalälven which cuts West-East, the land rose and became open and rather inhospitable.

I wasn't disappointed, finding a lovely lakeside picnic area near the village of Orsala. Some holidaying Russians were larking about in the lake, which enlivened my lunch of bread, cheese, and crisps.

The Bysjön. The huge basin and dense forests reminded me almost of Alaska.

My lakeside lunch spot near Orsala, enlivened by some bathing Russians

Yeah, it's going to be a while before anyone gives him a lift

This "trebuchet" type of well, ornamental or otherwise, seemed quite common in these parts

I descended into Nås, another tiny village. From here, the main East-West road follows the Västerdalälven from Vansbro to Borlänge. I could skirt this by running up a minor road on the other side of the river, and then crossing to take the only - minor - road North through the 30km or so of high and empty land that separated me from lake Siljan.

I found a nice way to cross the river on an old wooden suspension bridge that managed to be both quite impressive and charming. The bridge was evidently quite old, being so narrow that most cars couldn't cross it - but it's solid iron construction spoke to the iron-working history of the area.

Cool original wooden suspension bridge crossing the Västerdalälven near Nås.

Just after I had crossed I actually saw a (small) car go over!

Between Nås and lake Siljan, for about 30km there are no settlements at all - even though the map indicates place names, disconcertingly there was nothing there.

Coming from southern England, this is unsettling to me. On this stretch, I knew that I would push through to the resorts surrounding lake Siljan and their amenities; I had plenty of supplies and water; and could fix the majority of mechanical problem that might stop me in my tacks. But being used to passing through a village or town every 3 miles, these long stretches of emptiness - with maybe 2 or 3 passing cars every hour - felt very remote to me.

After crossing the river, the road soon started to rise up into the wooded hills. The pine forest was dense, and the road broad but generally empty. I saw great vistas looking back down the road, and wooded hills rolling away to the edge of vision.

The sun was hot now, and there was significant climbing: according to the map, the road would climb up to an average of 400m, with lots of rollers of course. It was exposed in the sun and heavy going but I felt good, and made good progress over the 17 km of deserted road.

Typical broad and deserted road heading towards Lake Siljan

At the 17km mark - in the absence of any other landmarks, I used my bike computer to work out my position - I had a choice. The surfaced road curved to the East, making a long loop around some higher hills and emerging in Leksand. Since I wanted to head towards Mora, I calculated that this would add a good 30km onto my day. The alternative was to try to cut off this loop, by taking a forest track shortcut around the other side of the hills, to emerge on the Southern shore of Lake Siljan. I couldn't face the extra length, so decided for the more interesting route.

Finding the shortcut shown on the map went surprisingly smoothly. The turn is at "Olarsbodarna", but since there is no development or signs of any sort, I had to rely on my distance measurement. Fortunately, at exactly the 17km mark a promising dirt road bore off to the North. I crossed my fingers and took it.

I needn't have worries: while the surface was rough and it was obviously little travelled, it stuck faithfully to the North and North East, and I knew I was heading in the right direction. It was a beautiful shortcut in fact: I was losing the height I'd gained nearly all the way, so could free-wheel down the empty gravelly track, enjoying the coolness after the hot climb. The thought that I had almost reached my Quixotic destination, and surely would be at the lake soon, suddenly hit me, and I sang at the top of my lungs as I descended the forest track.

The entrance to the shortcut North to the lake. It looked kind of foreboding at first, but turned out to be very easy-going

The shortcut through to the lake. It doesn't get much traffic.

After 10km, I started to see signs of civilization again, in the form of nicely-sited holiday homes

I was almost disappointed when the descent finished, and I popped out next to a sign indicating: Limå. I had reached the edge of the lake.

Unfortunately, I wasn't done yet, and the next stretch seemed to bear out my long-held observation about travelling that a place long-imagined is never quite how you thought it would be. The minor road circling the lake - which I needed to take for another 30km or so - I had pictured as being as quiet as any in Sweden, and allowing a relaxed last leg with a view of the water.

What I actually found was a surprisingly wide, straight and busy road, with no sign of the lake at all. All my adrenaline went out of me when I realised how far I still had to go, and I began to seriously flag. I had reached the lake now (though I was yet to actually see it) - I would find somewhere to camp for the night where I could get food, and then make my way to Mora the next day.

My map indicated a few possible camp sites on the route clockwise (West) around the lake - but I knew now not to rely on them. More promisingly, there were prominent signs indicating camping and stuga, at a place called Åsengården. This seemed to correspond with a camping symbol on my map near the lakeside and a place called Åsen - so that could work well.

My energy was very low now, and I made slow progress around the lake. Every few kilometres I was teased with another camping sign. Eventually I came to a right turn road leading down to the lake, and an enormous Åsengården sign next to it. Thinking it must be the one, I turned down it, and dropped down the surprisingly steep slope to the lakeside. After a kilometre or so, it was clear that there was nothing at all - just empty fields. I cursed the misleading signs pretty loudly, and turned my bike around for the unwarranted climb back up to the road. Oh well, at least I finally saw the lake.

At some point circling the lake I entered Mora commune - this gave me a little lift as I neared my distination

My mood was pretty low when, some kilometres later on the main road, I found another turn with an Åsengården sign - this time to the left, and up the steep hillside fringing the lake. I had no idea if this camping would be open, closed for the "season", or this be another false trail. I promised myself that if I climbed up there and found nothing or it closed, I would simply find the next forest clearing and collapse in it.

The hill was extremely steep, and I sweated buckets as I pulled the loaded bike up at 4mph in the granny. The slope seemed to continue for ages - in practice it probably only took me 20 minutes or so, but it felt like a lot longer. On the plus side, the forest opened out, and there were signs of a pretty traditional wooden village ahead.

I passed through the village, thinking it less and less likely there was actually a campsite and restaurant up here. The path turned to gravel, and at least I could see forest, and hence a place to crash ahead. I almost didn't believe it then when I came across a substantial hotel restaurant, with a swimming pool in front and camping behind.

The Åsengården hotel, camping and restaurant did exist, and was a life-saver. They really need to sort out their signage on the lake road, though.

I wasted no time at all getting in reception - it was 6pm by this point and I knew what Swedish opening hours could be like. But it was no problem at all - I could camp anywhere I liked, it was very cheap, and yes the restaurant would be open.

I pushed the bike into camping field, made a very half-arsed attempt to raise the tent, and immediately headed for the swimming pool while there was some sunshine. After my climb, I could finally actually see the lake properly rather than the snatched glimpses I had got before, and yes I could see why it was regarded as so beautiful.

The mightily-welcomed swimming pool, and actually being able to see the lake

I finally see whey lake Siljan is so rated. I couldn't see either of the towns from here - just the bright water with unspoilt, wooded banks, and the northern forest stretching to the horizon.

After I swam I dried off in the sun, while sensible normal holidaymakers that hadn't tried to pull themselves and all their belongings across Dalarnalän joined me by the pool. I had a shower, and for the first time since Jönköping put on my soft town clothes.

The restaurant was just starting up. I was in a bit of a daze, disorientated and spun out from being out of civilization for so long. I sat in the restaurant for a while before realising I could sit out on the deck and watch the sun go down over the lake. I ordered a pizza and beer, and felt deliriously contented as light faded. The lake looked like many lobes of bright water lit up by the sunset, backed by completely unspoilt wooded banks. Beyond an apparently endless and unbroken forest stretched into the northern distance.

I wasn't too far out on the Swedish opening hours. The hotel seemed to be run by only a couple of people: the girl on reception, and the Turkish chef, who put together a pretty good pizza. Around 8pm the girl told me she was shutting up to go back to town, and asked if I wanted another beer or anything before then. I took advantage of this, and sipped until the sun went down behind the wooded hills behind.

It might not have been the most authentic pizza, but it remains one of the most satifying meals I've ever eaten. Also pictured in my attempt to replace all the salt I'd lost over the course of the day.

Today's ride: 76 miles (122 km)
Total: 581 miles (935 km)

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