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Österlen och Ales Stenar 2026 |
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The Trip
The rucksack was packed, waiting by the door, for my regular Strides of March walk with Adrian. Then the trip was cancelled, for tedious reasons that the margin of this blog is not wide enough to record. I spent a fretful weekend, if fretful really is the word I am searching for, meandering miserably through hikers guides. By Monday I was ready to rescue at least a modicom of walking entertainment from the wreckage. My plans involved a train to Simrisham; three day walk across the sands to Ystad, visiting the incomparable Ales Stenar; hotels in Sim and Ystad; train back home. A walk in a thousand, even if I would be by myself, sorely missing my regular company and shared jokes. Time to stop feeling sorry for myself, lever feet into boots and put that rucksack to good use.
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Monday
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It's just a gentle jaunt on Monday. I've spent most of the day on the train, but still, if I can push out a quick 10 km before middag, it all makes the following two days more manageable. The harbour is nice, and I earn my Skånsk öl in the evening. I guess this means it has all officially begun.
Tuesday
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Tuesday brings the first long day's hiking. Once I make the Österlen strand properly it becomes more than nice. This is stunning scenery. The rumbling, cloudy skies enhance rather than detract from the wholesome splendour. The sun shines on the sea and you take photo after photo, even though you know that you can never fully capture the glory before you.
Lunnabjär gravfält is worth a detour. It is an ancient wonder, even if only a shadow of what is to come.
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These two local beauties enjoying a dip in the pool, on the other hand, are more natural and spontaneous. But still wonderful, nevertheless. |
More sun, sea and sand. Views from the gods. |
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Sun, sea and sand is all very well, but there is nowhere to stop for lunch. However, anticipating the worst, I brought something with me, and at exactly the right time a random table and chairs suddenly appear overlooking the sea. I feel smiled upon. ÄPA is äpplen pale ale, an Österlen speciality. I even have a lighthouse to appreciate, even if it is all being done in single silence. Sigh.
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These photos make it look like the ale was flowing, but really there was 15 km on the sand between these two moments of refreshment. Sand walking is soft and gentle on the feet, but deadly on the calf muscles. This one was well-earned. After many strides, the last headland is within sight, and I can feel the holy aura of Ales Stenar approaching.
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Finally, I leave the beach and climb steep hills above the village of Kåseberga to the site of Ales Stenar. I have waited ten years in my adopted country to see this wonderful sight. It is a priceless moment. While it has been lonesome to do the walk by myself, it is still special to be alone in such a singular place. I feel at one with the land and nature throughout time. Photos can't really capture that, either.
A moment of awkwardness now, as it turns out that the planned bus from Kåseberga was in the timetable alright, but didn't actually run. Don't ask, its a special kommun rule. Luckily, the taxi service at Ystad played ball and saved my bacon, if I might mix a metaphor or two. Without them, well, I'd still be there, I think.
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Back to the hotel and another middag for one. I mustn't grumble too much, though, I wasn't entirely alone. Henry and I enjoyed some special times together in Ystad's finest and most eclectic hotel. One makes friends everywhere.
Wednesday
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You can never have too much of a good thing, and I start the day just as I ended the previous one. Several of us clamber out of the bus together, but my insider knowledge from the previous evening and my bionic legs give me a head start, and I manage another 20 minutes alone with the stones, before others join us. They are just as spectacular in the new sun as they were under the old. They have seen many, come and go, over the years.
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Another walker does the honours with the camera for me, and I repay the favour for her. Apart from Henry, this is my only conversation of the trip.
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And still I am loath to leave. Sigh. But the day is getting on, and I have km to walk. |
I eschew the safe option through the field ...
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... instead, opting for the daredevil path above the cliff. It was hairy, and I had a wobbly moment just about half way. There's life in the auld daug yet. |
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I still call myself a hillwalker, even though I only ever hike flatlands. I haven't climbed a mountain in decades. Just occasionally, though, I do actually clamber up something or other. Does this wee devil allow me to use the word for another year or so?
While I often take the hairy option, for the fun of it, there are times when I do actually follow the signs.
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One last photo of the sun over the sea. |
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Its not all stunning scenery. Österlen offers some nonsense too, to make you glad you brought a camera. All work and no play, or something like that. And don't go saying that the tortoise is AI, incidentally. Is it feck! I did this myself, tracing out the pixels directly in the image file, millimeter by millimeter, just as I did before the internet was invented. You will find neither A nor I in my house, thank you very much!
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And then, just when you thought that feelings of lonesome melancholy were nearly through for the trip, you get a reminder of other proposed walks that didn't go according to plan. Sigh. Bornholm was the destination we had to cancel because of fecking covid.
Thursday
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One needs to end on a high. Outstanding views of sun, sea, sand and stones have dominated the trip, but the extraordinary artistry of the Hotell Prins Carl in Ystad also has to be seen to be believed. Some hotels just throw away fruit and veg that is past its best, but not here. There is art to be found everywhere. Why waste any of it?
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It's been a cracker. |