We looked like a dozen giant condoms — 12 of us, each completely covered with a heavy-gauge plastic bag. The body-size protection was our ad hoc attempt to defend ourselves against a sudden, drenching downpour as Aina, our Swedish guide and Zodiac driver, steered the rubber raft toward Stockholm. Most of us had hurriedly fashioned the plastic bags into outerwear, punching holes for head and arms. Others merely slipped the bag over themselves, gouging out a gap for their faces; they looked like Eddie Murphy’s version of Gumby.
Earlier, when we were disembarking the Swedish Islander to get into our rubber raft, Aina waxed ecstatic: “You haven’t really seen Stockholm until you’ve arrived there by Zodiac.” Clearly, she didn’t mean in a downpour, but the unexpected deluge added an element of wackiness that united us as we wended our way into Sweden’s capital city.
This was the final leg of a leisurely paced eight-day journey that had taken us through portions of the Swedish archipelago, the vast latticework of 25,000 islets and outcroppings off Sweden’s western coast. The 49-passenger Swedish Islander was our informal home by day, as we tooled from island to island, staying ashore at night in historic, quaint or intimate hotels.
The ship, formerly a ferry, had been converted into an airy and comfortable excursion vessel and felt more like a private yacht. It has plenty of lounge-style seating for conversations and ample space for the sit-down meals we had aboard. Though only a day-boat, the Islander also has several “sleep” cabins for catching catnaps and rows of lockers for storing our daily carry-ons. Clusters of us could relax on the rear or top deck, where the Islander’s eight or so bicycles also were stored. And someone — probably the onboard naturalist — lovingly tended a pot of giant yellow sunflowers plunked near the ship’s bow.
Our small, convivial group engendered easy friendships, nurtured by shared meals, good humor and such adventures as our Zodiac foray into Stockholm, where teeming rain washed away whatever was left of decorum. Norma Beazley, all week a prim and proper sixtysomething Texan, even stood up during the downpour to tell an off-color joke (about condoms, no less).
The Zodiac ride wasn’t just a capstone of the week, either. Our Special Expeditions cruise/tour, billed as “Impressions of a Swedish Summer,” seemed craftily designed as metaphor foray Impressionist painting: That is, each up-close experience was deceptively simple, merely one small painterly stroke; stand back, though, and a glorious picture of Sweden took shape. This Zodiac ride just added a final brush stroke.
Sweden isn’t generally as well known to tourists as are the rest of its Scandinavian neighbors, and like many visitors, we knew it mainly only from previous visits to Stockholm. What impressed us this time was the zest with which the nation savors its summer.
For much of the year, Sweden’s days are achingly short. But in the brief summer season with sunset coming nearer midnight, life explodes; and Swedes become intoxicated on life. They respond to summer much like mayflies that must pack an entire lifetime into the fleeting span of a single day. As if to glorify the miracle of summer here, flowers are everywhere.
What appealed most to us (and to most of our shipmates) was the pace of our journey and the flexibility of its modest activities: leisurely nature hikes in thick Swedish woods, strolls through small towns, cycling country roads, picnics in castle gardens, scenic afternoons meandering on small islands.
Quiet evenings were spent in quaint seaside towns such as Mariefred and Trosa. This was not a cruise for those who cotton to casinos and tuxedos or “if-it’s-Tuesday-it-must-be-Belgium” vacations. And, unlike our cruises on megaships, we stayed put in places long enough for flies to land, sometimes spending two nights ashore in the same hotel.
Indelible images were everywhere in the archipelago: entire families with hair the color of sunlight sun themselves on glacier-polished outcroppings, casually discarding clothing to skinny-dip or sun worship. And an armada of power and sailboats, held still by ice in winter, is unleashed upon the blue waters of the Baltic where the sails whiten the seas.
The reverence for freedom bestowed by summer became infectious. And rather than board the Swedish Islander to sail from the far end of one island to Trosa, 10 miles away, seven of us chose to bicycle there. Uphill and down, we pedaled through picturesque countryside.
Trosa, a town with buildings dating from 1719, seemed part Fire Island, part Coney Island — remote, sybaritic and full of summertime street life, bustling with vacationers from nearby Stockholm. We overnighted here at the Stadshotel in an airy room (we counted 15 windows). But the hotel’s outdoor cafe, situated below us, was the magnet for every party-hungry Swede in Trosa. They rocked nearly round the clock to the same (loud) songs popular in the States during the ’60s.
Trosa’s tumult made us miss the quiet of Mariefred, the historic town we stayed in the two previous days. In contrast, nothing in Mariefred is open past 10 p.m., though its crowning glory — the imposing Gripsholm Castle — gave us many daylight diversions. In its portrait room, we enjoyed a private concert by two of Sweden’s reigning nightingales, Jenny Lind-award-winning sopranos. And, nearby, we picnicked in a deer-filled park.
If none of this sounds like high drama, that was precisely the point. The week was like a Seinfeld episode: a cruise about, well, nothing. A little of this and a little of that shaped up to a smorgasbord of memorable images: the upturned rowboat with a faded pink bottom providing shelter for a family of swans; a man on a turquoise tricycle hawking breakfasts breads, sweet rolls and newspapers; and picturesque and colorful board-and-batten houses everywhere.
It also was a week filled with uncommon friendliness and trust. In Trosa, a fruit-seller gave us bananas even when we didn’t have enough change to pay for them. At our hotel in Mariefred, the oldest inn in Sweden, room keys were left unguarded in an open cabinet; and when, at 5 a.m., unable to sleep in the land of the Midnight Sun, we asked a hotel clerk for a cup of coffee, she brought us an entire buffet breakfast.
Speaking of food, let’s face it: if you expect to eat in Sweden, you’d better be fond of fish. Aboard the Swedish Islander, we sampled an array of native dishes, prepared by Mangus, a seasoned chef, though only 24. Aside from his spectacular smorgasbord, Mangus whipped up a fabulous potato-radish combination to accompany our barbecued marinated salmon. There always was “Swedish caviar,” a spread tasting faintly like mousse made of matjes herring. We tasted all of Sweden–from elderberries and lingonberry blossoms to cloudberries that grow high in the mountains (delicious yellow fruit that smells curiously like sweaty shoes). Reluctantly, we even tried reindeer.
Sweden’s cuisine wasn’t for everyone, though; and one disgruntled American passenger ate only baked goods and bread for a week. We hope she didn’t miss the entire picture.
IF YOU GO
Special Expeditions has a full slate of fall cruises planned, including sailings in the Pacific Northwest, a Lewis and Clark cruise in the Midwest, a December Antarctica cruise and an “Everglades and Beyond” sailing in South Florida. Experts and naturalists lecture and lead shore excursions.
“Impressions of a Swedish Summer” is offered by Special Expeditions during June 14, 24 and 29; July 9 and 14; and Aug. 8, 13 and 23. Some cruises are geared to families. Per person, double occupancy fares are $2,890; single occupancy is $3,570. Cost for children under the age of 16 sharing a room with two paying adults is $1,445. Rate includes the cruise, hotel stays, excursions and most meals and wines. Call 800-762-0003.
