Friday, September 5 Tranas to Boras to Skene, almost missing the bus

 Friday, September 5

Tranas to Boras to Skene, meeting up with Ulrika.

This a.m Lotta came downstairs in her robe saying she was going to jump in the lake. I declined to join her. She relished the idea it would be cold. These Nords!

So calm, so practical. Let's see.

I started my trip picking up a package at my hostel from Lotta of trekking poles and a folding knife and a nondescript envelope of money. Approximately $50 cash, since I couldn't get any in the States before leaving. I was to pay her back after getting to Tranas and pulling out currency.

My train left Stockholm station so early, my plan was to open the package before boarding and leave the box for trash. I was reminded of the opening to the old TV show, Mission Impossible, my mission if I chose to accept it, was to hike Kungsleden. I accept.

So my trip began with intrigue, the feeling of subterfuge, working undercover.

Lotta's mission if she chose to accept it was to get me to the bus station in Granna on time

Barely, but I'm getting ahead of the story

We have a history of almost missing a ferry here in Sweden. When together, we revert back to clueless college students. This a.m. was no exception. Lotta told me we would get to Granna in 30 minutes. My bus left at 10:50. At 10:45 she said aloud, now where is it? We were on a road bordered on both sides by pine forest. Indeed, just prior she told me that this part of the road is known for moose encounters.

My thoughts: Aren't you the orienteering champ? Can't you turn on GPS? Check your phone.

Minutes ticked by. My watch read 10:50. Hmmm, should I be worried? She stopped at a fish restaurant and sprung from the car to run inside. She wasn't calm. I began to worry. She rushed back out of breath. It's back there, by the petrol station. Okay–maybe. Then she pulled over at a meeting place in the road. Here!? My instincts told me no, but I'm a stranger here.

I said I'll get out with all my stuff but you drive down hill to the station and check. Okay. After she left I saw a big green bus pull into a traffic circle beyond the station. Suddenly Lotta was back. She threw open the passenger door and yelled “Get in!”

This was like a thriller.

I hopped in wearing my backpack and sat sideways on the seat, no safety belt. She drove like a demon and pulled in front of the bus to keep it from leaving and I kissed her good bye and got out. The driver was waving me to hurry. I tossed my pack in the bay and tried to find my ticket in my fanny pack. He spoke Swedish and I was so rattled I said in English, I don't know. Where are you going? Again, I was so flustered, I simply couldn't remember. I don't know. He waved me onto the bus.

I sat there in stunned grateful silence until I realized Lotta never told me, since she booked the ticket, what my seat number was.

not kidding about her being a champion orienteer