Day 5. Norrköping to Gnesta.

Rollin’ up the east side of Sverige.

Leaving Norrköping, I pass the harbor. One of those boats was the old, newsworthy, restored boat I mentioned in the previous day’s post.

Outside of Norrköping was a very ugly shopping mall. Say what you want about Orange County, but at least their shopping centers look good. In Sweden, it’s all of the mall, all of the sprawl, yet they’ve hit a foul ball.

I made my way out of the commerical area and biked with a nice dude into Åby, (not to be confused with the million other, smaller Åby-s), where there was this AWESOME walkway under the train tracks. I wanted to hang out under it until a train came, but I’m on a deadline (not really, I just didn’t want to wait).

Finally, rapeseed fields reappear. I hadn’t seen them since Skåne.

I decided I had no time for Sandwich Table Sundays, or calling to make a table reservation.

But I did have time to stop for a water break by Bråviken, a saltwater bay connected to the Baltic which is connected to the Atlantic, which means I really AM on the east coast.

My steed rests.

Going up a fun steep hill, a cycling club passed me (only because I was riding a totally loaded touring rig on the small chainring). One guy hung around and chatted about my trip (in Swedish, of course) and suggested I stop with them for coffee up the road. I was in a groove though, so I kept on, and wished them luck on their ride to Mariefred.

Sayonara, Östergötland. Konichiwa, Södermansland.

In Stavsjöbruk, I went to a loppis market with a mean old man behind the counter. They were selling millions of 100 year old screwdrivers and wrenches, so I bought one to tighten things on the ol’ bike and to use at home to turn the shower on and off (the knob is broken). Leaving the market, I saw this decidedly evil-looking building.

Coming into Nyköping, I somehow was surrounded by other cyclists. They were in a race that ended just before the city limits. People at the finish line looked at me weird when I didn’t stop, but they just didn’t understand that I’m not out for a sport or to beat other people.

Who the hell decided to throw up palm trees in the middle of Sweden? I didn’t leave southern California to see these, that’s for sure.

Here’s the city hall.

And some old building.

I ate a hamburger, and decided to get outta Nyköping. It was spookily empty and everything was closed save for the hamburger shop. I was a bit worried as I didn’t have a map, but like Bowie’s space oddity, my spaceship seemed to know where to go. Stockholm was in one direction, and I was just gonna keep on pedalling that way until I the Globen rose over the horizon. Right. In the meantime though, I passed some TOTALLY GANGSTA TAGZ YO in the middle of a field. COMPTON WATCH OUT.

And then there was another field.

Finally I reached a cave/old mine. It was called: Alsgruvan.

It cut clear through a hillside, and was filled with water and flies.

Not an ideal place to camp, so I kept moving into Gnesta.

Jellyfish farm? *Chuckle* – You sorry, dumb piece of crap. The sign clearly says that canoeing can be had further down that path.

Gnesta had a fun looking library as well.

I did some grocery shopping (they played some new Radiohead songs in the store rather than muzak, badass). I skipped the PRE MADE PANCAKES (why is this necessary when this exists?) and forwent the American Ginger Ale. I picked up a gigantic lunch salami (fat and protein!) and a chicken salad instead.

Gnesta – pretty sweet little town. I called my parents collect on the payphone for a bit and then tried to leave town. I found a crudely-printed-out-from-googlemaps map of the area hanging up in a real estate office window, and took a close-up picture of it. Now I had a fairly crude idea of where I was going, by referencing my camera. The 57 road to Södertälje was NOT HAPPENING (no shoulder at all, crazy traffic, big trucks), but I decided to head down some back roads to see if they went anywhere. Before long, I saw a sign saying that Södertälje was indeed reachable! Though it was a bit longer than the 57 route, it was really nice. Here’s a field and house and lake. Very Sweden.

Then it was kilometer after kilometer of enjoyable rolling hills, clear-cut forests, dense uncut forests, lakes, and vacation houses. I decided on a new camping strategy as it grew darker – I’d been passing all these private dirt roads for the past 400 kilometers, right? I just realized that some of them had mailboxes and others didn’t. Obviously, the ones without mailboxes had no residences attached. They were more than likely old logging roads. I found one with overgrown grass (no trucks had come down that way in months at least) and set up a nice tent spot right in the middle of the overgrown road. Worked great, and I’m officially a genius. There was a even a nice brook next to my spot.