Sayings like ‘The journey is the destination’ are actually right up my street. On this trip, however, I’m making an exception: the journey is a means to an end. That’s because the destination lies some 700 nautical miles from my home port in Kappeln on the Schlei – the Swedish Höga Kusten (in English: ‘High Coast’) on Lake Botten in northern Sweden, about 350 kilometres south of the Arctic Circle. That’s a bloody long way away!
But it’s an irresistible temptation: the curiosity about an unfamiliar territory and a wild coastal landscape unlike anything else to be found in the vast expanse of Sweden. Steep rocky cliffs, wooded hills, deep fjord-like bays, archipelago islands and scree slopes characterise the varied landscape.
Shaped by the last Ice Age
Its current appearance was shaped primarily during the last Ice Age: massive glaciers ground away the ancient granite and gneiss bedrock and pushed the Earth’s crust downwards. Since the ice melted around 10,000 years ago, the land has been rising again – by up to 286 metres in total. More than anywhere else.
The effect of what is known as post-glacial land uplift: former coastlines, beach ridges and areas of scree eroded by the sea now lie high up and far from the sea. Land uplift continues to this day at a rate of around eight millimetres per year. The Höga Kusten has been a UNESCO World Natural Heritage Site since 2000.
Höga Kusten: beautiful, vast, far away
The journey there and back is really long – there’s no sugar-coating it. First to Stockholm, then on to the Åland Islands, and from there another 200 nautical miles straight to our destination. Finally, the skipper’s loud cry rings out across the water: ‘Land in sight!’ And what a sight it is: to the west, a coastline rises out of the morning mist, towering ever higher and more imposing, like a giant beached whale. Grey, furrowed skin, with its tail fin to the south and a massive body towering upwards towards the north.
Arrival on the island of Grisslan
As the sun dispels the mist, the green of the fir and pine forests glows, whilst red rocks and grey scree slopes transform the shoreline into a colourful patchwork. The scent of resin from the conifers mingles with the smell of the sea. The anchor drops and holds in the small bay of the island of Grisslan, a fishing village on the northern Höga Kusten. Small, red-painted fishermen’s cottages stand on the rocks by the bay. Pure idyll. The boat sways gently at anchor; my eyes close. At last, a carefree sleep – after all that mile-gobbing.
Provisions in Örnsköldsvik
Over the next few days, I’ll be pottering about the archipelago, sometimes mooring in the natural harbour by the rocks, sometimes popping into the harbour at Örnsköldsvik to stock up on provisions. The fishing hamlet of Skeppsmalen, a picturesque, historic fishing village at the northern end of the Höga Kusten, can be reached via a narrow, natural channel between the rocks.
I’ve been captivated by the rugged archipelago landscape of this region. Off this coast, fishermen have been catching herring from the Baltic Sea for centuries. The many wooden huts and iron fishing gear in the harbours speak volumes about what once went on here.
Surströmming in Skeppsmalen
"This region is the cultural heart of the famous surströmming," explains the waitress at Fiskevistet, a popular restaurant in the old fishing harbour at Skeppsmalen.
“Would you like to order a portion, or would you prefer another regional speciality?” she asks. Surströmming is Baltic herring, lightly salted and left to ferment further in tins. The tradition probably originated in the 16th century, when salt was scarce and expensive, and people preserved the fish through fermentation. You’ve got to think of that first.
Sweet pastries save the day
What is a delicacy to some is, to others, the very epitome of gastronomic horror; even the acrid, overpowering smell alone can cause immediate nausea. As I, unfortunately, fall into the latter category, I make a hasty exit from the restaurant. Now, only a traditional Swedish fika can save the day: cardamom buns with freshly brewed coffee are the perfect antidote to fermented herring.
Part 2 will follow shortly
Nico Krauss
Freier Fotograf