Helsingborg Sweden, my port of entry, was blanketed in a grey fog and I stood on the deck watching other ferries plying the waters as we approached shore. The town had a feeling of a place that people transit rather than remain and reside - the border town feel. After picking up some kroner I rode north the next morning. I could have taken this picture a thousand times, really. The yellowing birches, the barnyard red Swedish home, the dull grey sky. Maybe it is not all that interesting, but it is how I will always remember Sweden. I´ve seen this scene thousands of times in my travels through Sweden. It is really strange how uniformly colored the houses are in the Swedish countryside, but trust me, they are nearly all this color and this exact hue, without variation. From Helsingborg I rode five days up the Western Swedish coast heading toward Oslo, Norway. I camped wild in the woods most of the time, and have been getting better at picking out sites that will yield a better night of sleep (i.e. no more sites with European stinkbugs, or sites next to territorial dogs). (10-17-04)

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Western Swedish Coast