They say it is a Karl Johan svampar year out here in the Stockholm archipelago; the Karl Johan svamp is nothing less than the king of mushrooms - the porcini. Out in the Baltic it's back to fishing and gathering, and hunting is also an option if you have a gun and a penchant for it. I stick with keen gathering and occasional fishing - occasional as I have a tendency to get the hooks caught in seaweed and other people's sailing boat rigging as I seek to launch the line across the bay, waving the rod around like a true, green amateur. Upon arrival at the Swede's patch of heaven my boyfriend exclaimed: Karl Johans, look! And there they were - brown, smooth domes bursting forth through the grass, larger than a fist and plentiful - to the southerly eye that loves to glaze over a seabed of spikes for starfish and other elusive creatures, this is a sight most exotic and a skill worth acquiring: Developing mushroom eyes that can "see" a mushroom hidden under a mossy stone or blueberry carpet, which the untrained eye, mine, cannot see.
When you buy property out here in the "seagarden", explains the Swede, your contract will also include whether you have the right to build a quay, whether you have access to fishing waters and whether you have permission to hunt. And above all there is a law called allemansrätt (everyman's right): It states that every man has a unique right to nature; he may help himself to apples and quince and raspberries and porcini and chanterelles if they happen to be growing in the wilderness. In the archipelago there are certainly boundaries and property rights but as you walk through the forest, nose to the ground (limes crawling up your Wellington boots, eager to cling to the warmth coming off the back of your knees), you are not overly concerned with whose moss is whose; those apricot chanterelles hidden under the wet leaves have an allure so powerful that the hand sweeps down of its own accord and picks it out of the black, soggy earth - euphoria of the mushroom picker! Heja allemansrätt!
There are a great variety of mushrooms to choose from; some elusive, some common, some bland, and some poisonous and powerful hallucinogenics (the original toadstool is a beautiful thing to look at but beware) that the Vikings would eat before going to war. The Swede is concerned that this piece of information may give some brutes funny ideas about ordering them over the internet and taking them before a night in Paceville.
It is fascinating to be out here and watch sailing boats glide through the sounds, silent as they pass by the few houses peaking through the trees, on display to the passing sea traffic. Nowadays it is extremely difficult to build a house on the water's edge of any island, not even a greatly rich and powerful and corrupted oligarch would have his megalomaniacal way with the general consensus here to preserve, protect and ensure the future of this unspoilt archipelago only a small step away from Sweden's capital.
Lush and green forests do not come without some sort of trade off, and for most of the year, I would imagine life to be arduous for the full-time residents of the Stockholm archipelago. The weather is always variable and the brackish water always alarmingly chilled, in the winter, when it freezes over, I would imagine it to be quite isolated and unnerving in its stillness. Already autumn is pushing its way in, putting an end to an all too brief summer interlude, but the Swedes do not complain, they sing silly songs, eat sour herring and take long, brisk walks admiring all that they have been blessed with, while keeping a mushroom eye peeled for those Karl Johans, naturally.
When you buy property out here in the "seagarden", explains the Swede, your contract will also include whether you have the right to build a quay, whether you have access to fishing waters and whether you have permission to hunt. And above all there is a law called allemansrätt (everyman's right): It states that every man has a unique right to nature; he may help himself to apples and quince and raspberries and porcini and chanterelles if they happen to be growing in the wilderness. In the archipelago there are certainly boundaries and property rights but as you walk through the forest, nose to the ground (limes crawling up your Wellington boots, eager to cling to the warmth coming off the back of your knees), you are not overly concerned with whose moss is whose; those apricot chanterelles hidden under the wet leaves have an allure so powerful that the hand sweeps down of its own accord and picks it out of the black, soggy earth - euphoria of the mushroom picker! Heja allemansrätt!
There are a great variety of mushrooms to choose from; some elusive, some common, some bland, and some poisonous and powerful hallucinogenics (the original toadstool is a beautiful thing to look at but beware) that the Vikings would eat before going to war. The Swede is concerned that this piece of information may give some brutes funny ideas about ordering them over the internet and taking them before a night in Paceville.
It is fascinating to be out here and watch sailing boats glide through the sounds, silent as they pass by the few houses peaking through the trees, on display to the passing sea traffic. Nowadays it is extremely difficult to build a house on the water's edge of any island, not even a greatly rich and powerful and corrupted oligarch would have his megalomaniacal way with the general consensus here to preserve, protect and ensure the future of this unspoilt archipelago only a small step away from Sweden's capital.
Lush and green forests do not come without some sort of trade off, and for most of the year, I would imagine life to be arduous for the full-time residents of the Stockholm archipelago. The weather is always variable and the brackish water always alarmingly chilled, in the winter, when it freezes over, I would imagine it to be quite isolated and unnerving in its stillness. Already autumn is pushing its way in, putting an end to an all too brief summer interlude, but the Swedes do not complain, they sing silly songs, eat sour herring and take long, brisk walks admiring all that they have been blessed with, while keeping a mushroom eye peeled for those Karl Johans, naturally.