Sweden's northern archipelago lies off the coast of Gothenburg, boasting over 260,000 islands, many too small to make it onto any map, according to the Swedish mapping office, Lantmäteriet's definition of an island as anything more than 9 square meters. However, for this journalist, the only requirement is that the land mass be large enough to pitch a small tent.
The Gothenburg archipelago, also known as Skärgården, stretches over 200 miles (320 kilometers) along Sweden's west coast. Its maze of tiny islands and bays is more than just picturesque; it offers an enchanting experience for those willing to get lost in its winding trails.
This reporter set out on a journey to explore the archipelago with local expert Jennie Walker, who had coached him beforehand in the geography of the area, but warned that local kids were terrified of Öckerö's old church due to its haunting ceiling frescoes depicting hell and its subsequent salvation. A visit to this mysterious island was at the top of my agenda.
My first stop on this journey was Fotö, a southernmost island with an adventure playground of massive boulders. After paddling through the straits between two small rocky islands, I discovered why the relatively short distances could take time – you are lost in the vast maze of its rugged coastline.
After completing a couple of hours' kayaking trip with Lasse, a computer expert turned sailor who takes visitors on his veteran fishing vessel out to Vinga, a historic island that was once home to Evert Taube, one of Sweden's great folk music balladeers, I walked around the quiet island of Hönö, where Andreas Lundqvist, local climber, told me stories about growing up on these islands and subsequent adventures.
To explore further, the Västtrafik app made ferry travel simple and reliable. The weather had turned from blue skies to thick mist as I reached Rörö, my final destination. As I squelched through bogs and scrambled over lichen-crusted boulders, I stumbled upon wild ponies.
A visit to the old church on Öckerö was high on my agenda but there were warnings about its reputation due to its ceiling frescoes – a painted hell with demons and sinners sinking into scarlet flames. The rear of the church roof is a barrel-vaulted timbers, torturing sinners who are sinking into scarlet flames. But then a suspended sailing ship points the way to salvation, the colours lighten, and by the time I reach the altar, everyone is floating on clouds and blowing trumpets.
Eventually, I dragged myself away, texted the verger and, after just a couple of bus rides and a ferry, stepped down in Gothenburg, still feeling dazed as if I'd been somewhere very far away indeed.
The Gothenburg archipelago, also known as Skärgården, stretches over 200 miles (320 kilometers) along Sweden's west coast. Its maze of tiny islands and bays is more than just picturesque; it offers an enchanting experience for those willing to get lost in its winding trails.
This reporter set out on a journey to explore the archipelago with local expert Jennie Walker, who had coached him beforehand in the geography of the area, but warned that local kids were terrified of Öckerö's old church due to its haunting ceiling frescoes depicting hell and its subsequent salvation. A visit to this mysterious island was at the top of my agenda.
My first stop on this journey was Fotö, a southernmost island with an adventure playground of massive boulders. After paddling through the straits between two small rocky islands, I discovered why the relatively short distances could take time – you are lost in the vast maze of its rugged coastline.
After completing a couple of hours' kayaking trip with Lasse, a computer expert turned sailor who takes visitors on his veteran fishing vessel out to Vinga, a historic island that was once home to Evert Taube, one of Sweden's great folk music balladeers, I walked around the quiet island of Hönö, where Andreas Lundqvist, local climber, told me stories about growing up on these islands and subsequent adventures.
To explore further, the Västtrafik app made ferry travel simple and reliable. The weather had turned from blue skies to thick mist as I reached Rörö, my final destination. As I squelched through bogs and scrambled over lichen-crusted boulders, I stumbled upon wild ponies.
A visit to the old church on Öckerö was high on my agenda but there were warnings about its reputation due to its ceiling frescoes – a painted hell with demons and sinners sinking into scarlet flames. The rear of the church roof is a barrel-vaulted timbers, torturing sinners who are sinking into scarlet flames. But then a suspended sailing ship points the way to salvation, the colours lighten, and by the time I reach the altar, everyone is floating on clouds and blowing trumpets.
Eventually, I dragged myself away, texted the verger and, after just a couple of bus rides and a ferry, stepped down in Gothenburg, still feeling dazed as if I'd been somewhere very far away indeed.