The Baltic Sea is shallow. With an average water depth of just 52 metres, it is one of the shallower inland and secondary seas. It would not even reach the viewing platform of Cologne Cathedral. Its seabed, with its clearly defined basins and sills, was formed during the last ice age. Another late consequence of this epoch is the post-glacial land uplift: freed from the weight of the kilometre-thick ice sheet, the earth's crust is slowly pushing upwards again.
The Baltic Sea also has deep spots
With a change of up to one centimetre per year, this process leads to significant changes in the coastline in just a few centuries, especially in shallow areas. The archipelago in the Kvarken area at the junction of the Bothnian Sea and Bothnian Bay is "growing" so quickly that it will form a solid land bridge between Sweden and Finland in around two millennia.
Nevertheless, the Baltic Sea also has deep places. And at none of them does it go further down into the darkness than 30 nautical miles east of our current position. That's where the landfall low lies. A glance at the display reveals that the "RS2" currently has around 40 metres under its keel. Above the Landsort Low it would be more than ten times that: 456.5 metres. It is named after the southern tip of the island of Öja, our destination today. It is also called Landsort.
Öja: stone bar in the Baltic Sea
However, we don't want to go directly to Landsort, as the basin there is reserved for pilot boats and the archipelago ferry. Instead, we head for Norrhamn, about two nautical miles to the north on the west coast, Öja's only guest harbour, where there is not only a stone pier with stern buoys, but also a bike hire service so that we can still get to Landsort - and to its famous lighthouse, the oldest in Sweden.
Öja lies like a bar in the Baltic Sea. Its narrow rocky ridge stretches for around four kilometres in a north-south direction. The island juts out into the Baltic Sea in the south with the lighthouse. A corner that you don't want to sail round in a storm - and fortunately you don't have to. To the north, the labyrinth of skerries offers a sheltered route. For as peaceful as it is today, the forecast for the next few days is for a stiff north-easterly, six Beaufort, gusting to seven.
The first gusts are already scratching the surface here and there, and when we reach the lighthouse two hours later, the pond of the last few days has become a sea again. The crests still don't have any whitecaps, but it's due to start at midnight. The sun doesn't care, it continues to shine.
Norrhamn, the only guest harbour
Norrhamn is a natural harbour, only open to the north-west. We couldn't make a reservation here, and when we enter between the rocks on the shore and a small skerry, the handful of moorings is already occupied. So we go to the pier with the stern anchor. The young harbour master helps us and less than a quarter of an hour later we are standing in his office, which also serves as a pizza bakery and kiosk, asking about the bikes. The "good one" is on its way, we are told, but there are a few others next to the hut.
Unfortunately, only one of them is ready for use. Another looks promising, but the tall grass hides the important detail that the chain is missing. Luckily, the two friendly owners of the campsite next door also have bikes on offer. They don't have gears, hand brakes or lights either, but what the hell. For 100 crowns, the bikes are now ours for twelve hours; there are no locks, so what's the point.
Guns from the past
It's just half past three, so there's plenty of time to explore. The bike rolls well, past the meadow with tents into the sparse forest, a little uphill, then back down again. Öja is beautiful, that's already clear, and car-free. A single road leads from here to Landsort and on to the lighthouse, with a hiking trail running parallel through the forest. Sights await us along the way and a detour right at the start.
It leads a few hundred metres into the solitude and ends at the gun emplacement of Batteri Landsort. Coastal artillery has long played a major role in defence scenarios against sea-based attacks in the Baltic region. Most recently, it was the Soviets who were to be deterred from invading. The bulky weapons were considered so indispensable that they were even renewed in the 1980s.
The complex is completely bunkered, only the gun is above ground, and the shape and colour of the armoured dome, which weighs several tonnes, is adapted to the rocks. Six such forts were completed, from Umeå on the Gulf of Bothnia down to Trelleborg. They became redundant at the end of the Cold War.
The pilot and the labyrinth
We cycle further south on the main path, encountering hikers, walkers and other cyclists. Fortunately, the trees provide shade. The next two sights are of a peaceful nature. One is the memorial stone to the pilot Albert Holm, who did a lot for the development of his small homeland throughout his life - among other things, he looked after day visitors who came by boat from the mainland.
The next stop, just a few hundred metres further on, is a labyrinth of head-sized stones. There are hundreds of these mysterious Troy castles in Sweden, some dating back to the Middle Ages, some even older. Those who enter them are supposed to gain protection from the dangers of the sea - not insignificantly on an island. At least that's the assumption.
Storhamn, centre of the island
Eventually we reach the centre of the island, Storhamn, where there is even a town sign. A few dozen wooden houses are scattered among the rocks here, most of them in red and yellow, with white windows, gables and fences. Picture-book Sweden! It's hard to believe that less than two dozen people live here permanently, the rest are holiday homes. If you let your wheels roll a little further, you will automatically come to Västerhamn, which couldn't be smaller.
Two bulky pilot boats occupy the long side of the basin, a few cabin cruisers belonging to the locals, plus a handful of RIBs and fishing boats. The largest building - and the only car, a white Volvo - belong to the Sjöfartsverket, the maritime authority.
There's a lot going on here, partly because of the mainland ferry, which is unloading its eagerly awaiting cargo, excursionists and holidaymakers. Most voices come from the terrace of the Saltboden Kök, a mixture of kitchen, pub and kiosk that you only find on small islands. The tiny interior is rustic. At the counter you can get Landsort Lager, sandwiches and smoked fish. Just for the sake of completeness: there is also a "proper" restaurant, Svedtiljas på Landsort.
Art at Kummelhålet
Back on the bike and continuing along the main path, you come to Kummelhålet, a typical natural bathing spot on the warm shore rocks, well occupied by sun-seekers. No wonder, here on the leeward side of Öja there is no sign of the wind, the water is smooth and crystal clear. Landsorts Fyr looms up ahead.
Past all kinds of art, varied and weatherproof sculptures by local sculptors (a nice idea to decorate your own island), and past the Vandrarhem, we finally head uphill - and this is where my one-speed bike reaches its limits. The last few metres are pushed, still without a bike, up a flight of steps, then we are standing on a small meadow in the mighty shadow of the lighthouse.
The Landsort lighthouse
The view is magnificent: the narrow ridge of Öja to the north, then more archipelago and the mainland. Ahead is the tip of Landsort. To the west, the sea is still calm to leeward, to the east it is already roughened, a darker blue. Somewhere out there, the Baltic Sea is deeper than anywhere else. You have no idea.
The wind blows steadily over us. The lighthouse doesn't feel it, its smooth façade and fresh coat of paint hide the fact that it has been standing up here for more than 300 years: built in 1689, it is the oldest lighthouse in Sweden. If you ignore the superstructure, which has only formed the new lantern house since 1870, it really does look like a fortress that cannot be shaken by anything.
In its lee, someone has set up a table for visitors, bathed in sunlight. There are also two chairs with a view into the distance. You can't help but stay.
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Christian Tiedt
Editor Travel
