After three very full days in Stockholm, today was about saying goodbye to the city and beginning the journey south. We weren’t in any particular hurry, with Trosa only about an hour away, so there was time for one final Stockholm experience as we headed the car out of the city.
Our choice was Skogskyrkogården, the Woodland Cemetery, which may not sound like the most obvious way to spend the last morning of a holiday visit to Stockholm, but turned out to be an inspired one.
Created principally by architects Gunnar Asplund and Sigurd Lewerentz from 1917 onwards, it is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. What makes it remarkable isn’t really the individual graves or monuments, but the landscape itself. Rather than imposing a formal cemetery upon the existing woodland, the architects worked with it, allowing the tall pine forest to dominate. Graves sit quietly among the trees, paths follow the contours of the land and buildings emerge almost unexpectedly from the forest.
We started with the great open landscape just inside the entrance, dominated by the enormous granite cross and the gentle rise of Almhöjden, the Meditation Hill. The lawns around the cross were being kept improbably immaculate by a small army of robot lawnmowers, gliding about with the quiet purposefulness of staff who had been told in no uncertain terms that UNESCO lawns do not look after themselves.
From there the cemetery draws you into the trees, where the atmosphere changes completely. We made our way towards the little Woodland Chapel, designed by Asplund and completed in 1920, only to find that a funeral was taking place. That immediately changed the mood. This isn’t simply an important piece of architecture or a beautiful landscape for visitors to admire; it remains a working cemetery, and the chapel is still being used for exactly the purpose for which it was built. We kept our distance and walked on quietly among the graves beneath the pines.
We also found Greta Garbo’s grave. After becoming one of the great stars of Hollywood she eventually returned, in death at least, to the city where she was born. Her grave is strikingly simple: a polished red stone bearing her name, sitting quietly among the trees. It was difficult not to think of the line forever associated with her: “I want to be alone.” Whatever the complexities of that particular quotation, she has certainly ended up somewhere offering a great deal of peace and solitude.
It was an extraordinarily peaceful final experience of Stockholm, but before finally leaving the city behind we swapped carefully designed woodland for the real thing and drove to Tyresta National Park.
Tyresta is an extraordinary expanse of old forest remarkably close to the Swedish capital. We began at Tyresta By, the lovely little cluster of traditional farm buildings at the entrance to the park, where the obvious first priority was fika. The coffee was excellent. The cinnamon buns were good, although perhaps not quite up to the extraordinarily high standards set elsewhere during this trip. Sweden has rather spoiled us for cinnamon buns.
Suitably caffeinated, we set off on the 5 km red route, Bylsjöpromenaden, which loops around Lake Bylsjön. Five kilometres is, after all, only a parkrun, so this was hardly an assault on the Swedish wilderness, although it was quite enough to give us a proper feel for Tyresta.
Almost immediately the little village disappeared behind us and we were among the trees, following the path through pine and spruce forest, over rocky ground and around the lake. For somewhere so close to Stockholm it felt remarkably remote, although we were by no means alone.
There were some wonderfully earnest Eastern European walkers, properly equipped with walking poles and daypacks for an expedition which made our own approach look decidedly casual. We stopped to chat with a local resident who was foraging for berries and was distinctly unimpressed by this year’s crop. The dry summer, she explained, had left them disappointingly small. And then there was a German couple attempting to persuade their toddler daughter that continuing along the path was a desirable activity. She had reached the very firm conclusion that she did not wish to walk another step. We’ve all been there.
It was a lovely walk rather than an epic one: ancient trees, mossy forest floor, rocky outcrops and occasional glimpses of the lake through the pines. Coming straight from Skogskyrkogården made it particularly interesting. There we had been admiring how Asplund and Lewerentz used woodland to create a natural, contemplative landscape. At Tyresta we were walking through the real thing.
Back at the car, we finally pointed ourselves south towards Trosa.
Although, as has become something of a habit on this trip, we didn’t get terribly far before finding something else worth stopping for.
This time it was Tullgarn Palace, a royal summer palace sitting beside the water just north of Trosa. The present palace dates principally from the eighteenth century and later became particularly associated with King Gustaf V and Queen Victoria, who used it as a summer residence.
The palace itself wasn’t open, but that really didn’t matter because the grounds were magnificent. We wandered through long avenues of trees and formal gardens, across great lawns running down towards the Baltic, with the elegant palace itself sitting beside the water. It was one of those slightly accidental additions to the itinerary which turned out to be far better than expected. There was no need to do very much at all other than walk, look and enjoy it.
Then, finally, on to Trosa, our home for the next two nights, and Bomans Hotell.
The hotel is, well, eclectic.
That may be the safest description. There is an enormous amount going on. Colours, fabrics, paintings, furniture and decorative objects appear to have been assembled on the firm principle that minimalism has already been given quite enough opportunities elsewhere. Every time you turn a corner there seems to be something else to look at. It is quirky, theatrical and completely unlike anywhere else we have stayed on this trip.
After checking in we set off on foot to explore Trosa. The little Trosaån river winds through the town, crossed by small bridges and lined with wooden houses, gardens and paths before eventually reaching the harbour and the Baltic. It is ridiculously picturesque and feels a very long way from Stockholm despite being barely an hour down the road.
Tonight we walked into town for dinner at Punschkällaren, where the menu turned out to be rather more ambitious than the relaxed surroundings initially suggested.
Mark started with pan-fried tiger prawns in chilli and garlic butter with fresh herbs, lemon and toasted garlic bread, while I went in a rather different direction with smoky pieces of beef fillet, rum BBQ sauce, kimchi coleslaw, aioli and garlic bread.
For his main course Mark had gin-smoked char served on a plank, accompanied by a mild gin and juniper cream sauce, duchess potatoes, pickled fennel, vegetables, lemon and dill. Serving dinner on a plank always adds a certain sense of occasion. I had oven-baked pike-perch topped with hand-peeled shrimp, browned butter, potato balls, pickled fennel, vegetables, grated horseradish and lemon.
So today has taken us from one of the world’s great pieces of designed landscape, through ancient Swedish forest, past a royal palace beside the water and finally into a little riverside town and a hotel whose interior designer appears never to have encountered the phrase less is more.
After the pace of Stockholm, Trosa feels like exactly the right place to slow things down for a couple of days.
Although, having seen the hotel, I’m still not entirely convinced that slow things down applies to the décor.
