Another crack of thunder. This one loud enough that the windows rattle. I can hear rain hammering on the roof, pouring from the gutter into the rain butt which tomorrow I’ll use to wash. From the warmth of my sleeping bag I remember seeing when we arrived that the cabin was supported at each corner by a seemingly random pile of stones, and I wonder what it would take for the structure to slip. Outside the wind is howling through the endless sea of pine trees as if gripped by an otherworldly fury. I see the lightning flash through my closed eyelids and count the space between light and sound as I did when I was a child. After a little while, consoled by the knowledge that there is nothing concrete I can do to improve the situation, I drift into a fitful and wary dreamscape, populated by snow bears, thunder, and Marie Kondo.

It is the night of Saturday 31st of August 2019 and I’m lying on the floor of a log cabin at the summit of a forested hill, somewhere on the north west coast of Sweden.

*record scratch* I bet you’re wondering how I got here. (And also why I was dreaming of Marie Kondo.)

Well, around 3 months ago lover casually dropped into a conversation that we should do the Hoga Kusten way (literally: The High Coast Trail). A 128km hike through World Heritage Site Swedish wilderness.  I said sure, then went back to my work.

Cut to: a Monday morning (just over 2 weeks ago) when I found myself waking at 1:45 in the AM to: drive, then fly, then train, then train again the 2000 or so miles to the trail’s beginning.

Each day we walked.  And as we walked we shed the detritus of city life, piece by piece. The weather had been unseasonably hot, which meant that (for the first week at least) streams were dry and many of the wells marked on our maps were nothing but dusty holes. Our packs were heavy because we took food and supplies for the whole trip, not knowing when we could resupply. Our days became simpler, mostly revolving around the logistics of finding potable water.

Each night we slept in a different wilderness cabin. Log structures, with some kind of place to sleep, a simple table and chair, and a woodburning stove (stocked with wood, saw, and axes.) Each morning I’d make coffee and we’d go about our routines before packing up and heading out. The internet was not a factor.  Life was simple. Life was good.

I kept a small red notebook with me and wrote in it every night. I’d record the events of the day and any thoughts that had occurred to. To say I learned things from the trip would not be fully accurate.  Rather: I remembered some important truths that had become buried by the wilful harness of my day to day working life:

1 – I remembered how important space is.

There’s a reason Bill Gates routinely spends blocks of time (usually a week at least twice a year) unplugged in a secret cabin in the pacific northwest, with only his own mind and a stack of reading for company. There’s a reason Carl Jung built a stone tower without running water and retreated to it several times a year. There’s a reason that those who know say:

‘Poetry is born in silence.’

Balance in all things, but especially between tension and relaxation, between profusion and space.  For space is the ground in which all good things grow.

2 – I remembered how kind people are.

I don’t think people are less kind in cities, I think the animal simply shuts down to some degree as a defence mechanism responding to the unprecedented amount of people and information it’s forced to deal with.

I’ve found that, as a rule of thumb, when you travel to less populated places people are more inclined to connect. It happens in the Highlands and it happened on our walk.

Almost every single person we met, young and old, offered us something. An old lady literally ran out of her house to give us apples from her tree.  A man with a black labrador stopped to offer us water.  A kindly fellow in one of the 2 shops we found offered us his cabin for the, night free of charge, because it was about to rain.

People are fundamentally good. They’re sometimes just overwhelmed, which happens more often in crowded places.

3 – I remembered no pain is forever.

A little over 2 years ago I wrote about trashing my leg to the point that I couldn’t walk on it. I’d almost forgotten that, but was reminded of it as we finished the trail.  Recovery from anything isn’t a straight line and there were dark times for me along the path but (at least in this case) the work I stubbornly forced on my meat vehicle paid off, and I found myself doing something that had, at points, seemed very far away.

Nothing lasts forever and change is the only constant. Put forth your best efforts to improve that which you are able to, and (at the same time) work on accepting That Which Is with equanimity (just like the prayer). Things can get better.  And they do.  Hope is real.

I’m back in Edinburgh now, writing this from my studio. Yesterday I recorded new music. The next thing is taking shape.  Wait with me and I promise it will be worth it.

Be well,

– J

*Oh. The Bear thing.  OK.  Before we touched down lover told me that there were maybe some bears on the route and that you should clap and talk loudly as you went to let them know you were around.  Which I poo-pooed.  Then, halfway through the trip, I was researching where to find water and the very first thing each site said was watch out for the bears.  And clap also.  (So much for my hubris.)  So the last (half) thing I learned was: listen to your lover (and also clap like Marie Kondo to wake up the forest).

In the end we didn’t see a bear.  But we did hear a really big moose.

**In case you’ve been wondering about the photo at the head of this post: There are some architectural experiments on the trail.  This one is called ‘The Cube’ and, on 30th August 2019, was where we slept.


I took some incredible photographs on this trip.  If you’re interested, I’ll be posting more of them on my Instagram.

Have thoughts?

What did you think of this post?  Make your voice heard.  Use the comments box just below.  I read them all.

25 thoughts on “ The 3 And A Half Things I Learned From Not Being Eaten By A Bear In Sweden* ”

  1. A funny title, a well-written piece, and some big ideas to think about further! It also really makes me want to go back to Sweden when all this Covid-19 stuff settles down… Nice one, James!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That sounds like an amazing trip. Camping is such a grounding experience, I always try to get out a couple times each summer. You really get a feeling for your environment and understanding of what’s around you. I imagine it’s the feeling Marie Kondo feels when she tidies a house.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Your beautiful wander reminds me that it’s time to head back down to Mexico to find those things that you list but first off, I’ll be heading to the UK in the late fall for the first time to wander through a city that has always stirred my imagination!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Hi James,
    Sorry I have not visited you for a while which in a way reflects your timely post. At the end of june before a few social events etc I was feeling overwhelmed and took a blogging break but dipped in from time to time. I realised recently with tips from ‘Hugh’s news and views’ blog that I was following most of my blogs by e mail thus feeling inundated. I recently decided to follow blogs on my reader and today I have come to the library for some protected time to enable me to delet my e mails and move some of them to either existing folders or new ones. A few weeks ago I temporarily deactivated my facebook account but remained on messenger. Step by step I feel I am creating space and I have found this post so encouraging in helping me in this endeavour. I didn’t know about Carl Jung’s method. I find breaks away from daily living sometimes prove stressful as I am surrounded by people however pleasant the surroundings, maybe a different kind of break away is the answer.
    Thank you for sharing your ideas and take care. :-)

    Liked by 2 people

    1. It sounds as if you are making inroads into a better life, I am glad that this is so.
      I’d recommend the book ‘Deep Work’ by Cal Newport if you haven’t already read it.
      It’ll change your life ;-)
      Have a good one, and thanks again for writing me.
      – J

      Liked by 1 person

          1. Hi James,
            Just received a copy of the book from the library and will let you know. Hopefully this feedback will motivate me to read the whole book rather than dipping in as I usually do.Enjoy your weekend.

            Liked by 1 person

  5. That’s better. Your writing always makes me think. No small feat. In this piece, your use of the word lover is remarkable. You give your significant other a title rather than a term and you don’t preface the word with the possessive ‘my’ ..I like all that a lot.. the regeneration that comes with this kind of solitude and how you describe it’s effect on you is so pristine. Funny you mention the Highlands of Scotland. I’ve had my sights set on them now for a few weeks. A bad knee and ankle limits my travel capabilities and so I came across this article of the 6 best train trips in the world and the West Highlander from Glasgow to Maillag is now something I will do here in the future. Thank you for sharing your insightful words and thoughts and views with us..As the first stranger to actually read and like my blog you shall always have a fond place in this writer’s heart!! Now give us more songs.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I loved everything about this comment. Thankyou for reading, and for responding so beautifully.
      You are talking about the train journey, right? I have spent some time around Maillag and the surrounding area and am sure it would be an incredible trip.
      I hear you. Music is coming.
      Be well, and thanks again,
      – J

      Liked by 2 people

  6. Sounds like you had an awe-inspiring adventurous off-the-grid trip, really fabulous! Sweden has some fascinating landscapes for sure. I spent a year there when studying, wish I´d time to travel then…your post enhanced my (frequent) wanderlust severely…Sweden on horseback ( I do prefer others to carry my backpack ;-) ) sure is on my bucket list.

    Liked by 4 people

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