Third bottle of wine; Göta Canal
A dug canal that cuts right through Sweden, starting from Göteborg by the western coast, meandering through the country side until it reaches lake Vänern, so wide it has a horizon, but continuing with hand cut stones lining it's grassy banks in places right across to Stockholm. We cycled along the path that wound along terra Suiones, skirted with oaks, leafy bushes, fields of barley and linseed and dotted with little sluice keeping cottages looking important as the tourist boats came past. Though a far cry from the cruise hotels of today, the steam engine now silent, the old river steamer is popular in its simplicity, the engine going slowly along so as not to frighten the birds, the decks full of smiling passengers, taking the slow route through Sweden. One can cycle along most of it.
We had cycled 15km, half way through our cycling, all in good spirits and following an unknown path, when we realized we would have to cycle back, so opened the bottle of organic English beer and drank it sitting on the grass, legs dangling over the steep stone drop of a wall by a sluice.
Found a charming place for our night camp, Lyrestad, parking about 2 inches from the canal, and watched the swallows diving and swooping into the water to fatten their bellies. The sun set a beautiful orange globe into the still, mirror like canal, and though the heavy trucks sped along not too far away, it was peaceful with a local little train crossing over the canal now and then.
Had local hand made sausages and brown beans in syrup, the classical Swedish dish and could not believe our luck when the local paper declares that the next 5 days will be even more glorious and bombarded with sunshine than today! Oh, this Indian Swedish Summer. How lucky we were to catch it.
We had this as our base to explore the area, some mornings waking to thick mist cut by flying swallows gathering in the nearby birch trees, some to brilliant sunshine, never to rain. It was total bliss for us.
Breakfast we had facing the first rays of sunshine as early bikers whizzed past and then set off exploring during the day, gamblingly driving along looking at sights. Cycled in the evenings some more along the canal, in the balmy sweet breeze that caressed us with such generosity these days, and saw hundreds of birds feeding, ducks flying in great squawking formations from the barley fields and landing with inelegant splashes into the canal. Starlings wheeled in whirly patterns, and great crowds of crows covered roofs and roads like grey clad ministers admonishing each other.
At the local cafe we found lovely coffee and cake or a beer sitting by the canal and finished the evening with a shower in this funny place where the water runs in the opposite direction and one of us had to stand there and swoop the water back while the other showered! Not 5 star camping, but who wants that?
Thick morning dew covers everything as you wake up and the sun struggles through the mist, the difference of temperatures between day and night being so huge; from 23 down to 5. It mystifies the mundane world.
A dug canal that cuts right through Sweden, starting from Göteborg by the western coast, meandering through the country side until it reaches lake Vänern, so wide it has a horizon, but continuing with hand cut stones lining it's grassy banks in places right across to Stockholm. We cycled along the path that wound along terra Suiones, skirted with oaks, leafy bushes, fields of barley and linseed and dotted with little sluice keeping cottages looking important as the tourist boats came past. Though a far cry from the cruise hotels of today, the steam engine now silent, the old river steamer is popular in its simplicity, the engine going slowly along so as not to frighten the birds, the decks full of smiling passengers, taking the slow route through Sweden. One can cycle along most of it.
We had cycled 15km, half way through our cycling, all in good spirits and following an unknown path, when we realized we would have to cycle back, so opened the bottle of organic English beer and drank it sitting on the grass, legs dangling over the steep stone drop of a wall by a sluice.
Found a charming place for our night camp, Lyrestad, parking about 2 inches from the canal, and watched the swallows diving and swooping into the water to fatten their bellies. The sun set a beautiful orange globe into the still, mirror like canal, and though the heavy trucks sped along not too far away, it was peaceful with a local little train crossing over the canal now and then.
Had local hand made sausages and brown beans in syrup, the classical Swedish dish and could not believe our luck when the local paper declares that the next 5 days will be even more glorious and bombarded with sunshine than today! Oh, this Indian Swedish Summer. How lucky we were to catch it.
We had this as our base to explore the area, some mornings waking to thick mist cut by flying swallows gathering in the nearby birch trees, some to brilliant sunshine, never to rain. It was total bliss for us.
Breakfast we had facing the first rays of sunshine as early bikers whizzed past and then set off exploring during the day, gamblingly driving along looking at sights. Cycled in the evenings some more along the canal, in the balmy sweet breeze that caressed us with such generosity these days, and saw hundreds of birds feeding, ducks flying in great squawking formations from the barley fields and landing with inelegant splashes into the canal. Starlings wheeled in whirly patterns, and great crowds of crows covered roofs and roads like grey clad ministers admonishing each other.
At the local cafe we found lovely coffee and cake or a beer sitting by the canal and finished the evening with a shower in this funny place where the water runs in the opposite direction and one of us had to stand there and swoop the water back while the other showered! Not 5 star camping, but who wants that?
Thick morning dew covers everything as you wake up and the sun struggles through the mist, the difference of temperatures between day and night being so huge; from 23 down to 5. It mystifies the mundane world.