Scandinavia Unzipped: Miles, Meals & Memories from Our Nordic Adventure

It starts as an itch, a whisper of possibility on the edge of everyday life here in Norrköping. Then it grows – maps spread across the table, gear lists scribbled, the satisfying click of storage boxes being packed. The final weeks before departure are a blur of anticipation, culminating in that moment when the car is finally loaded, suspension slightly lower, fridge humming softly in the back. Our vessel for adventure wasn't just transport; it was our home, kitchen, and observation deck rolled into one, crowned with the impressive silhouette of the Vickywood Big Willow roof top tent. The destination? The open roads of Sweden and the dramatic embrace of Norway. The plan? Loose. The goal? Immersion.

Sweden's Gentle Welcome: Forests, Lakes, and Lingonberries

Leaving Östergötland behind, the initial kilometres felt like unwinding a tightly wound spring. We deliberately chose slower routes, meandering north-west through Värmland's deep forests, the landscape punctuated by sleepy red farmhouses and lakes reflecting the vast sky like polished silver. This was the proving ground for our setup. Pulling onto a secluded forest track near a shimmering lake, the first setup of the Big Willow felt almost ceremonial. Gas struts hissed, the canvas unfolded, and in minutes, our sturdy sleeping quarters were ready. The sheer volume inside was a revelation compared to ground tents; ample headroom, space to sit up, read, and organize without feeling cramped.

Evenings took on a comforting rhythm. As the long Swedish summer twilight lingered (this was late August, edging towards September), the slide-out kitchen became the heart of our camp. Sliding it out felt like revealing a secret weapon against hunger. Burners lit with a satisfying whoosh, illuminating the neatly organized drawers holding pots, pans, spices, and utensils. One memorable evening, after finding wild lingonberries on a short hike, we fried up some simple potato pancakes, topping them with the tart, fresh berries and a dollop of crème fraîche. Eating this simple feast under a canopy of pines, the scent of woodsmoke mingling with frying potatoes, felt like luxury distilled to its purest form. This part of the journey was about settling in, finding our pace, appreciating the quiet beauty of Sweden's accessible wilderness.

Across the Border: A Shift in Scale and Spirit

Crossing into Norway wasn't marked by fanfare, just a subtle shift in the road signs and, seemingly, the air itself. The landscape began to rear up. Forests still clung to slopes, but now they were steeper, leading to exposed granite and hinting at the immense geological forces that shaped this land. The gentle undulations of Sweden gave way to a more dramatic, vertical world.

Our route snaked westwards, drawn by the magnetic pull of the fjords. Tunnels became frequent, burrowing through mountains only to emerge onto vistas that demanded we pull over, silence filling the car as we absorbed the scale of it all. Waterfalls, swollen by recent rains, cascaded hundreds of metres down sheer rock faces, their roar echoing across the valleys. Here, the Big Willow truly felt like a mobile bird's nest. Finding a permitted spot on a high viewpoint overlooking a fjord, setting up camp felt like claiming a piece of the sky. The tent's sturdy construction gave confidence against the stronger winds we sometimes encountered here.

Fjord Living: Cooking, Camping, and Contemplating

Life alongside the Norwegian fjords was dictated by the weather and the topography. One day might be brilliant sunshine sparkling on the water, demanding exploration by foot along steep trails leading to even higher views. The next could bring swirling mist and rain, transforming the landscape into something mystical and moody. On one such drizzly afternoon, retreating into the Big Willow felt incredibly cozy. We lay comfortably, listening to the rhythmic drumming of rain on the canvas (impressed by its waterproofness), mugs of hot tea warming our hands, poring over maps and planning where the next break in the weather might lead us.

The slide-out kitchen remained indispensable. Morning coffee, brewed in a French press while watching the mist slowly lift from the fjord below, became a cherished ritual. Evenings often involved quick, hearty meals – perhaps a flavourful curry using pre-chopped ingredients, or pasta tossed with pesto and local smoked sausage. The convenience was unparalleled; no need to unpack multiple boxes. Pull out the unit, light the stove, grab a pan. Cleaning up was straightforward too, the stainless steel surfaces wiping down easily, ready for the next roadside culinary creation. We relished cooking with those epic backdrops, the scent of garlic and onions mingling with the fresh, often damp, fjord air. No Michelin-starred restaurant could compete with the ambiance.

Finding Our Place: Nooks, Crannies, and the Freedom of the Road

Finding nightly spots became part of the adventure itself. We used apps like Park4Night for initial research, but often the best places were found serendipitously – a designated picnic area with stunning views where overnight stays were permitted, a quiet spot at the end of a public road overlooking a valley, or sometimes, asking permission at a farm to park on a flat piece of land away from the main house. Each successful find felt like a small victory, reinforcing the sense of freedom this setup provided.

There were challenges, of course – navigating narrow roads with steep drop-offs, finding level ground on dramatic slopes, enduring a swarm of midges one particularly still evening near a marshy area (thank goodness for the tent's mesh screens!). But these moments only added to the richness of the experience, stories to be recounted later. The ability to be self-sufficient, to adapt to conditions, fostered a deep sense of satisfaction.

The Long Road Home: Reflections from the Driver's Seat

Eventually, the compass needle had to swing back towards east and south. Leaving the fjords felt like saying goodbye to a powerful, ancient presence. The return journey through Sweden seemed quieter, gentler, allowing time for reflection. Miles slipped by, the familiar landscapes of Östergötland drawing closer.

Unpacking back home felt different. The gear wasn't just equipment anymore; it was a collection of tools that had enabled something special. The Vickywood Big Willow wasn't just a tent; it was our safe haven, our viewing platform, our cozy retreat from storms. 

This journey stripped away the non-essentials. It reminded us of the joy found in a stunning view, a warm meal cooked outdoors, a comfortable night's sleep under the stars (or clouds!). It was a testament to the freedom that thoughtful preparation and the right gear can unlock. And now, even as daily routines resume here in Norrköping on this April evening, the call of the open road, amplified by the success of this trip, echoes strongly. The maps are already whispering promises of future adventures.