Varmland Warmland

July 23, 2017

Karlskoga to near Älvsjöhyttan

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I made an early night and slept the sleep of the dead, having made >70 miles for the third day in a row. I didn't have any specific complaints, but general exhaustion was wearing me down.

I had a decision to make, which I hadn't been able to focus on through tiredness the previous night. I was at the top of the lake, which meant it would be possible (albeit with no particularly obvious route) to turn to the west and Karlstad, and make directly for Norway and my destination. Alternatively, I could continue North into the heart of central Sweden - but every mile I now did would be another I would need to make on my way back down to Oslo.

It was a slow start, but I felt remarkably refreshed. It wasn't as hot - a slightly dull start - and I was in good time. I decided to continue North. Really, I think it was inevitable. After all, I could always turn round if I got sick of the forests.

I knew the land North of the great lake system became densely forested, hilly and sparsely populated. I would need to spend at least one night camping in the middle of nowhere, and would need to watch my provisions (though water would be less of a problem, given the area is honeycombed with lakes).

My route to the North was clear: a minor road struck directly North, skirting strings of lakes via Rockesholm to take me to the regional centres (and only towns of any size) Grythyttan and Hällefors 40-50km away, where I could pick up supplies. From there I had a choice of minor roads running parallel (but >5km away) from the only main N-S route, the 26 - heading for Fredriksberg, the first village in Dalarnalän. Any promising lake or forest along this route would do for a campsite.

After breakfast of more halloumi (ok, I was starting to get sick of it now) I trudged my bike out the clearing, and regained the tarmac road. Despite my efforts of the previous days I actually felt surprisingly strong, and was soon back on the orange 243 that led to the back road to Rockesholm. I was eating up the kilometres to the degree that I assumed I had a tail wind: but no, it was surprisingly still.

Crossing the Svartälven north of Karlskoga

Beautiful lake and picnic spot outside Rockesholm

Beautiful lake Skärjen outside Rockesholm

Locks controlling the lake at Rockesholm

Rockesholm is a tiny place, distinguished in that it has a church spire. As I left the relatively more populated lands between the great lakes to the South, the distances between settlements began to grow larger. There were still villages every 10-20km - as I went further north, this distance would rise to 30-40km.

Signpost in Rockesholm. As I entered central Sweden, the distances between settlements grew. At this point, towns were only 30km away...

The scenery got even better as I continued to wind past the lakes North of Rockesholm: the sun came out, and breaks in the deeply forested land revealed beautiful blue lakes reflecting fluffy white clouds above, with only the occasional red hut to as sign of human occupation.

As private islands go, that one's not bad

At Älvestorp I decided to take a shortcut on a forest road, to cut off as much of the orange road 205 I could before getting to Grythyttan. I was making surprisingly good time, and soon found a pleasant lakeside spot for lunch, eating up the rest of my provisions I hadn't had a chance to replenish since the camp shop near Jönkoping. The track around the lake was lined by very chilled-out looking holiday houses.

Grythyttan, when I arrived, was full of sunshine and had a very laid-back air. I pedalled slowly through until I found the local shop, where I filled back up on vital supplies and water. The day was now warm, and I drank down half a litre of cold soft drink in a couple of minutes.

Home-made cat warning. It looked quite official from a distance...

Grythyttan is a jolly place (and the sun had come out, too)

I was a little nervous about the short 6km stretch between Grythyttan and the larger town of Hällefors as I needed to take both an orange (244) and red (A-road, the 63) and hadn't forgotten my experience near Jönkoping. But they turned out to be fine: good, wide shoulders, where I could ride in comparative comfort.

My mood was helped further in the last few km to Hällefors: a guy on a mountain bike coming the other way cheered me as I passed, pumping his fist, and I greeted him with a grin and a wave.

"Trollsländen" fast food stand near Hällefors. I'm pleased to see the UK represented in fast foods of the world.

I felt good and strong, and flew through Hällefors. It was no trouble to pick up the minor read to the North, and I made good progress. I wanted to push on beyond Gåsborn, the next village marked with a spire and cross into Värmland before I struck camp. I would be close to the border of Dalarnalän and within striking distance of lake Siljan: one long day the next day should get me there, and on schedule!

The route north of Hällefors continued to be as pleasant. I was reaching the northern edge of the string of lakes I had been following all day that run continuously, and controlled by locks, down to Karlskoga. You can see what an important means of transport out from central Sweden they would have historically been. On this sunny Sunday I passed a lot of canoeists and people messing about on the water.

The next major town on the 26 which passes through Hällefors is Vansbro, 88km to the North

That kid is not appreciating the tastefulness or versatility of the Hällefors/Grythyttan area

Another lock - we're near the top of the almost continuous string of lakes that run from Hällefors down to Karlskoga. Don't worry - there are still plenty of lakes, they're just not necessarily joined up

I raised a cheer as I crossed into Värmland. From this point the lakes are more separated, and the country rises into forested rolling hills. I had already gained a fair bit of height from Karlskoga, with the rolling land rising rather inperceptibly from 60m to 250m.

I sped through Gåsborn, feeling good, and pushed on North between a string of lakes that flow down from the Lisjön next to Fredriskberg. These were some of the prettiest I'd seen - I had very little traffic, and they were quite unspoilt.

About 10km out of Gåsborn the weather dramatically changed, and for the first time on my tour heavy rain came down. I weather-proofed the map, but didn't bother putting on wet weather stuff as it was still quite warm. The going became harder though, and I at last started to feel the old fatigue come through. I managed to throw the chain during a dodgy shift - it (and I) were ok, but since my chain breaking on the road from Bolmen I knew I needed to watch it for further signs of failure.

As the rain abated, I reached a particularly pretty lake of Älvesjön, and had a moment of clarity: I should make it a short day while I still had energy, find a really nice place to camp while it was dry, and have a relaxing evening. I turned off the "main" road, crossed to the East shore of the lake, and pedalled slowly on, looking for a promising spot.

Entering Värmlands Län - next stop Dalarna!

My first site of Älvesjön - it really was very pretty

In my case, the opposite warning would have been more useful

Within five minutes I found a beauty: a piny, secluded bathing spot right by the lake. There was a changing room, but it was quite deserted. There seemed no reason going further.

The spot was indeed idyllic. The sun had come out again, and it was rather warm. I bathed in the lake, happy to get rid of the layer of salt that I'd accrued over the last few days (and which the recent rainstorm had only washed into my eyes). As I dried on the sandy shore, I heated up a cup of coffee and greeted a Swedish family exploring the small piney peninsular that lay nearby.

I was quite resolved not to move. I was slightly disconcerted, then, when at around 6pm I heard the sound of an engine, and bearded fellow in his sixties pulled up on a quadbike. He actually didn't seem to be able to see me at first: it was only when I stood up and waved he clocked me. He turned out to be very friendly, and told me he'd seen another English visitor the last week. I asked him if it was ok to camp there, and he enthusiastically said it was: in fact, he recommended sleeping in the changing rooms, and nobody was likely to use them. I waved him off. I head his quadbike zipping around the lake from time to time throughout the evening: I got the impression that this was kept him occupied in his retirement.

I had no more visitors after this. I cooked up a non-halloumi meal on my trusty, and now rusty, stove, and ate it as the sunset faded over the lake. As the light dimmed, I decided to have a small fire in the obviously dedicated fire pit next to the bathing area. I gathered together fallen woods and pinecones from the nearby islet, and to my surprise the ashes in the pit were still warm enough to almost light them without help from me.

I sat and drank Grythyttan beer around my fire, and read in the fading light until about 10.30pm. It was obviously a long time after midsummer, but none the less there was still a lot more light into the evening then at home. When the fire died down, I lay out my sleeping matt in the changing hut and passed out fairly quickly.

The changing rooms, and my sleeping quarters for the night. No tent for me!

The swimming jetty in the evening. The lake was incredibly still

Not a bad meal! This was the last of the olives I'd bought from home.

Today's ride: 60 miles (97 km)
Total: 505 miles (813 km)

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