Varberg to Skene, Sweden

Thursday June 21, 2018, 62 km (39 miles) - Total so far: 1,332 km (828 miles)

Technically Skene is only 33 miles from Varberg but I wanted to give myself 4 hours to get there. I needed to and you'll see why.

on the way to Skene

I left the hostel around 9:30. An absolute lazy bones. I debated whether to fill up both water bottles and make tea. Glad I did. It was supposed to be straight forward, take the 41 all the way. I started off on what I've come to expect: bike paths paralleling the roadwAy. Then it stopped.

I'd googled the route and also previewed it on street scene. I knew it didn't stay a major motor way the whole way. So stayed on for about 10 KM, hanging on by my finger tips. Not just trucks but those DOUBLE TRUCKS passed within inches of me. There was no berm, so I rode the white line. Finally I said to myself, Get off and re-route.

I worked the phone navigation at the first exit I came to and plotted a way north and east through rural Sweden. With big, big hills.

I had a funny feeling this would take some time.

It was beautiful and quaint. Carl Larsson, the artist, -ish. Tidy little mountain farmsteds with wood stacked up and antlers on barn doors, and dairy cellars dug into hillsides. I passed small quiet lakes. And rode my bike up and down big hills. I'll later put in names of small villages I rode through. (Stamnared, Grimmared) Ate lunch in a church graveyard.

In Horred I got back on the 41. Just horrendous. Camper after camper flying by. Midsummer must mean everyone is off work early and driving to the coast. I made it to my friend's house in Skene by 2:30. There were welcome signs in the windows! I felt very blessed.

We had a "small" snack where she cut up 2 different kinds of bakery bread and pastries, several different spreads, and cheeses. We ate and chatted catching up on the last few years. Not really, we talked about Trump. Then we got ready to go pick up her little girl Irma from crafts camp.

She had made a whole shipping box of masterpieces. There were three children in the backseat speaking a combo of English and Swedish vying for my attention. I thank God for this: the real world. We stayed up late eating a good dinner, and because the sun stays up late at about 11 at night the little boy Sixten went outside to jump on the trampoline.

Tomorrow we drive back to Horred for midsummer shindig complete with traditional eating, drinking, dancing around "the cross", and Irma has promised to make me a crown of flowers for my head.

Welcome Jane

I don't care what Melania Trump wore to "visit" kidnapped children living in cages along the U.S. border in for-profit prison. I'm in a very sweet place right now. The real world. I wish all my friends a midsummer night's dream.