There are places where you don’t feel the pulse of the city, even though it’s close by. The eastern side of Brämön is one such place.
Friday 26th of September
I´m packing for the weekend. It’s unusual to pack for a paddling adventure, it’s been a long time since the last time. I have to think, rethink and look for the things. In the end it feels like everything is packed, I don’t have the energy to worry about forgetting something.
Saturday 27th of September
After a short drive I arrive Lörudden. The air is cool, it feels like autumn has taken a real hold on nature. I pack the kayak and set to sea. Passing the pier arms of Lörudden horbur I see Brämön spread out on the other side of Brämösundet.
The wind is light and the waves are small, still they push me forward helpfully across Brämösundet to Sanna harbour on Brämön. The Sanna harbour pier has collapsed, it did so a few years ago, and there seems to be no plans to rebuild it. It makes me sad.
I continues south along the shoreline of Brämön. Soon I pass between Brämön and the island Brämökalven. This is where the magic happens: Once you round the southern tip of Brämön and head north, the mainland and the city pulse disappear.
Soon I spot a campsite, a new campsite, a place I’ve never visited before. I climb ashore, change clothes, have some food and a beer, then I set up the tent and settle down with a book. I look to the east and wonder how far it is to Finland, it’s just under 200km.
Early afternoon fog comes creeping in from the sea. The fog was supposed to come only in the evening, but nature seems to have a different plan than the meteorologists. I have coffee in the tent and enjoy doing nothing, it such a pleasure to have nothing to do but let the mind wander.
Soon it´s time to make dinner. The kitchen serves spagetti Carbonara and a beer, life is simple. I keep the gas lantern running in the vestibule, it warms up the tent and dries out the humid air.
Before I go to bed, I check on the kayak. The fog is thick, the kayak is wet, the tent is wet and the rocks are wet. Everything is wet. You can almost touch the silence.
I read Tove Alsterdals Djuphamn in the sleeping bag until eyes start to feel heavy. I fall asleep around nine.
Sunday 28th of September
After ten hours of sleep I wake up, it feels so good to stay in the sleeping bag and wake up slowly. I´m wondering what the weather is like outside. To my surprise it’s a really nice morning, the fog has disappeared. I make a large pot of coffee and have breakfast in the tent with some quiet morning music as company: Sade passes by and so does Chris Isaak.
I pack up camp and launch the kayak. I stear north towards the fishing village on northern tip of Brämön. The sea is completely calm. Brämö lighthouse welcomes me when I round the northern tip and paddle into the fishing village harbor.
Two men are handling nets on one of the old piers. We start talking. They have been out picking up the nets early this morning, they have caught trout and whitefish but not in the quantities they are used to.
Most of the fishing huts have shutters covering the windows, the summer guests have closed up and gone home. I’m leaving too. Just a short distance now to the mainland. I cross Brämösundet and get to surf on a motorboat’s waves the last bit back to Lörudden.
I pack up the kayak and load it on the car, then I head for home: To everyday life and the city pulse.