Taking a train to Helsingborg felt bittersweet - for one, I wasn't sure if I'll have to bail on the trip end of that same day and two: starting a bikepacking trip in a train just felt... wrong. My precious male ego aside, once I made it to the ferry, the excitement really started to kick in. I tried chatting up a Danish girl who was also on a rigged up bike, but I think my energy was too much for a Scandinavian LOL. Ferry ride over took mere 20 minutes and before I knew it, I was on my way to find a bakery so I can stock up on caffeine and a pastry for the road. Getting out of Helsingborg wasn't easy as the city lies on the coast and pretty much all roads lead up the hill, away from the sea. As I pedaled further, propelled by the friendly eastern sea breeze, the kilometers started to pile up, traffic lights lessened, and my smile widened.

First stop was a small town called Billesholm for world renowned kebab pizza. It's the ultimate bikepacking food - change my mind, I dare you! Following the stop, I had what was going to be the hardest and most annoying part of the trip. Fully avoidable, if you ask me. Hallabackes Dalgans and Soderasens National Park. In theory, sounds great. But road conditions were super bumpy, and there was a lot of climbing. My 40t - 11-42t gear ratios were really struggling, so had to walk up a few hills. Lots of missed turns, one destroyed 2l water bottle, and lots of swear words later, I made it to Rostanga where I headed over to ICA to stock up on Ramen and utensils as I forgot my spork at home (of course I did). First camping at Rostanga felt strange. Here we were, in the middle of 'nature', but still surrounded by massive RVs and massive pickup trucks with kitchen and toilets around every corner. I never stayed in a camp as an adult, so it was a funny feeling. Not gonna lie, being able to shower was awesome!

Trying to go back into the mindset I had when I packed out my tent and had dinner. Day was done. Knee was feeling like it could go either way the next day, but honestly, I somehow knew I could push. Texting my friend Morgan, I was thrilled to tell him I was going to push on to the second day. Better yet, instead of doing only 55km on day two, I decided to trim 10-15km off of day three and make day two a bit longer!

Day two started with a surprise appearance of morning dew. Might sound silly, but having spent previous 10+ years in Copenhagen aka a city, morning dew is something so simple and yet so natural that I completely forgot about it. Unzipping my tent outer fly, I could tell it's wet, and somehow that morning dew made me realize I'm out in nature (as much as you can consider a camp full of pickup trucks nature).

First order of business was a visit to a toilet, brushing my teeth aka making myself feel like a human again. Then coffee on my Soto collapsible drip coffee maker!

Something felt special about day two. Like it wasn't guaranteed. Like it wasn't promised. Like I somehow haven't earned it yet, but I knew I would... I set off and listened to a BBC radio news podcast on Spotify. A proper morning pleasure of mine. Not because I particularly enjoy the news, but because something about it felt familiar, felt nostalgic. Bendy gravel roads came and went. Numerous bathroom stops and water stops were ticked off. Before I knew it, I made it to a small town called Örkelljunga where I was to buy groceries at ICA and head over to the camp. Thing was, it was only 13:00! Was I really to spend 8 hours next to a small lake in the middle of a forest while I could be pushing on? Kilometer mark was around 55, and as mentioned, I planned on pushing further. I re-routed and added another 14 or so kilometers to the route. Goal was Lake Rössjön.

Those last 14 kilometers were a breeze. Roads were amazing! Perfect balance between bendy gravel roads with steep and challenging hills only to be rewarded by fast and quick descents... I scouted a few camping spots, took a few poops in the forest (my Temu titanium shit shovel came in clutch), and decided to camp out at the west coast of Lake Rössjön. A quick dip in the lake to clean up and a quick tent pitch later, I was joined by two fellow bikepackers with whom I chatted the evening away.

As good a day as you can have it. Kilometers felt easy. Gravel paths were awesome! I really fell in love with the vegetation change I experienced at Rössjön Lake, and I will definitely be back to push more north into Sweden!

A little detour was in order as I pushed more on day two than expected. Also, the original route had me going straight south past Klippan and into that annoying national park that I didn't want to experience again lol. After speaking to John (Johan), the Swedish man, he kinda recommended me to head west to the coast and work my way down the coast. Well, he didn't directly recommend it to me as he was busy packing and was in full 'Swedish' conversation mode where his answers were 'yes' and 'no'. Anyway, I took that as a good enough sign to head west!

Initial 15 kilometers were very fun. Super nice vegetation and almost no gravel meant quick progress. I was running out of water, tho, so after a quick refill at a cemetery, I noticed that vegetation and surroundings started to change... I was heading into a city -> Ängelholm. My anxiety started to ramp up as I was nearing more traffic, more people, more massive farms with the everlasting swarm of flies... I realized that I had spent the previous two days in peace and tranquility, and heading back into the city didn't feel right. I didn't have a choice, tho, and I found a small bakery right in the middle of the city to grab a coffee and some sugar and rest out my legs (had done approx. 25 km at that point).

After chatting up a German couple on a tandem bike, I had gotten a recommendation for a camp over on the west coast of the Molle Peninsula at Lerberget where I set up camp and had one of the best nights of sleep on the trip - I had actually dreamt!

Embarking on a solo 3-nighter was scary for me. I had the know-how - not only about the inner workings of my bike but also about camping. Still, how would I feel if something had gone wrong and I was all by myself - a flat tire, broken chain, snapped derailleur cable, broken hydraulic hose, puncture in my inflatable mattress. As you can see, I tend to account for contingencies haha. I wouldn't say that I'm a pessimist, on the contrary. I'm more of a 'Plan for the worst and expect the best.' type. With that being said, nothing actually went wrong! No flats, no mechanicals for that matter. My knee felt better than ever after day 2, and I ate so much I was actually getting tired of food.

First time I did a bikepacking trip, I told myself I'd do it again, that it was only a matter of time. Injuries, bad weather, and life interfered, and it meant I had to wait until July to do a proper one. Sure, I had done 3 separate trips before this one (two single-nighters and a climbing trip to Bornholm) to gauge what gear I should take, would my knee handle it, and to generally just get away from the city. One thing is for sure: this isn't the last one!

Till next time, thanks for reading!