My big family-free Swedish adventure

Note: There is a reader call for Witchy advice at the end of this newsletter issue! So if you don't feel like reading about travel maybe you can help a lady out.

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Last fall I started getting a sort of restless feeling, like I wanted a significant change of not just scenery but context. Then while researching this story I discovered writer Linda McGurk's offer to join her on a hiking trip in the Swedish highlands. "Would you like to join me in Härjedalen, where the air is pure and the water so clean you can drink it straight from the creek?" she wrote. "This wild and windswept corner of Sweden is home to more reindeer than people – and thanks to its remote location, few international travelers have discovered its magic." Offering peace, quiet and adventure, she offered a guided trip for a group of four women from the quaint mountain village of Tännäs to the Helags Glacier, "where sauna, cold plunges and local, chef-prepared food await. Are you in?"

Well I was like:

I was in. Even before my mom's incident and diagnosis (Alzheimer's and vascular dementia), I got a shot in the arm telling people I had a real life adventure coming up — and that I would officially be unable to help anyone with anything while I was gone.

There was some amount of risk and uncertainty involved in such a trip. I'd be traveling with people I had never met before, not even as internet friends. What if they were wack? (I wasn't too worried about this; I had a feeling women up for a similar adventure probably would be cool and Linda had reassured me that she'd make it clear everyone could feel free to take quiet alone time as needed/desired.)

We would be hiking up to 11.5 miles a day and summiting a mountain but I live in an extremely flat place. So I made a training plan and logged long distance walks with my pack on my back and did a lot of incline treadmill work at the gym.

I'd be away from my family from ten days – but my husband is a capable dad. My brother could help with mom stuff.

But what really got me anxious as I got closer to departure day was anxiety over the travel logistics. Before I connected with my group I'd do a plane, customs, other plane, a train, a hotel, then another train and another hotel. What if one of the logistics had been screwed up (ask me about the time I let myself into an AirBnb a full year earlier than I had booked) or I didn't download a ticket correctly? I also had to make sure I had the exact right amount of gear for any type of weather but not too much because you can't carry all that much 11.5 miles. Then on the way home it would be a plane, a train, a hotel, another plane, another plane and passport control. I didn't remember feeling this nervous about missing a connection or losing something or getting lost when I was studying abroad in college and we barely had cell phones, internet or common sense back then. I jokingly reminded myself "I am 47 and I have a credit card": Everything would be fine.

Everything was fine. Even through my jetlag in Stockholm I reveled in being in another country and took in how many more men are hands-on dads, how much more little kids are accepted in public adult-centered spaces, and how European women can really pull off interesting, funky pants without looking absurd.

As Linda later told us more about Swedish culture I learned how they are really on to certain things, like how parents there are much more laid back than we are about not freaking out if kids don't read by a certain age, how absurd our obsession over kids' sports can seem from afar. The government gives people 25 days of paid vacation a year and encourages people to spend time outside with the right of public access. A civilized little coffee and dessert break is considered a part of any normal day. And I got a kick out of the phrase "knyta näven i fickan" meaning "clench one's fist in one's pocket." Jerk on the peaceful beach getting you down with their loud Bluetooth music? (This would never happen in Sweden fyi.) Don't pop off; Just make your fist but keep it in your pocket.

A couple moments of discomfort, but in a good way I suppose.

There were only two times when I felt a sense of dismay or fear and the first one is kind of embarrassing. On our first hiking day we did the 11.5 mile walk. I was exhausted from not just from walking for so many hours with a pack but also from the inclines, stabilizing my feet and ankles on the uneven ground and picking our way across several streams. I was so looking forward to crashing at our first overnight spot, which Linda had referred to as partaking in "unique mountain hut culture."

We saw it in the distance and as we inched closer and closer, I looked forward to getting my backpack and hiking shoes off and resting my legs.

Even though I knew ahead of time there would be no electricity or running water in the hut, I still wasn't quite prepared for how really rustic it would be when we got there. After taking all our shoes off before we entered (mandatory), a family of five looked up as we entered, eating their dinner prepared over a camping stove in the small shared area. They'd all be sleeping in one room next to us with a wall that didn't reach the ceiling between us; we five would be sharing a tiny room sleeping on five bunks with provided bedding that was clean but also not washed in between users (we brought our own pillow cases and sleeping bag liners.) If you wanted a toilet there was an outhouse. If you wanted fresh water there was a lake. If you wanted to clean yourself there was also the lake. There was not enough room for us all to put our backpacks down on the floor at the same time.

I had a tiny silent inner scream of disbelief as the hut warden explained to us the rules of bringing in clean water with a bucket, doing dishes, taking out dirty water in another bucket and shaking out our bedding before we left and so on. I wasn't expecting the Four Seasons but I suppose I was ready for a little more space and a bedroom with a door instead of an old curtain.

But I settled down after going outside to pin some of my clothes to a line to air out and catching up on my phone for a bit on my bunk (cell service was strangely flawless). I ate a few heaping bowls bowls of delicious lentil bolognese that Linda made us. The table was tiny but the food was revitalizing and the view was hard to beat.

After reading on my Kindle for awhile (I was 4 days without my laptop! I haven't done that since...ever. Including when I was giving birth) I got some sleep. The plus side of the never-setting sun was that I didn't need a flashlight to find the outhouse in the middle of the night.

Two days later at the mountain base (more luxe because there was a bathroom building with flushing toilets, hot showers, and a sauna plus a wonderful restaurant on site) I set off to climb Helags which is 5,896 feet high and the highest peak in Sweden south of the Arctic Circle. These words were meaningless to me before the trip as a flatlander but shit got real when there came a point during our climb where I had to put away my poles and use my hands to scramble over rocks. I was so thankful I don't have a fear of heights because close to the peak I started thinking "I'm glad I'm merely exhausted because if I were the kind of person who found this stuff scary I'd be scared right about now."

Climbing the mountain, I felt less scared of falling and breaking my neck/skull than I was of taking a weird knee twist or ankle roll and figuring out what came next. Also before we got close to the summit I realized how tired and sore my knees were, knees that I inconveniently would have to use to get back down the mountain.

But we got to the top and celebrated with photos, a packed lunch, and signing the guest book. I wrote down "EVIL WITCHES: People who happen to be mothers" in it!

Then it was time to go down which was pretty daunting. This video gives a little taste of our path down from the peak which was thought-provokingly close to a pretty sheer dropoff. Also those aqua mountain lakes below are things we had to hike up to:

Spoiler alert I did not die or even really badly twist my knee or ankle or anything but my knees were so tired I didn't feel very confident going down. I just picked my way very slowly. The other ladies in the group were really supportive and nice about it. I just repeated to myself "I'm just taking my time!" although it stressed me out when some young Swedish bucks would come practically skipping down the rocks behind me.

It gave me some solace to tell myself I never had to climb a mountain again once I got down. I made it and rewarded myself with some time in the sauna and sitting in a cold creek which soothed my old bones.

My one and a half deep thoughts

I was a little mad at myself for how much I thought about dumb shit while I hiked. Pop culture weddings. MLB baseball. I'd look up at the incredible landscape and reprimand myself, "Take this in! Soak it up!" sort of like when I've been like "Savor this memory now!" with my kids. And inevitably when I'd look up to do my soaking in, because the trails are not paved or even that beaten down and were often rocky or marshy or uphill, I'd take a stumble or my ankle would half-roll and I'd realize I can either look around or walk safely, not both.

I did have one takeaway that feels corny but you can use it if you need it.

I love my two boys yadda yadda yadda but ever since I finished having kids there has been a bit of of a lonely spot around my only girl in the house status (husband is an only child; my childfree brother is married to a man with only a brother.) And now while my mother is alive she is not much of a traditional mother figure to me anymore, at least the mother I grew up with. It feels dramatic to say "motherless" when she's still alive and recognizes me for now but that's how I feel at self-pitying times. Motherless, sisterless and daughterless. I know those relationships are not guaranteed to bring joy or fulfillment of course but at the very least I miss having a mom I can call and shoot the breeze with.

While I was hiking the idea of "What if I am my own daughter?" popped into my head. What if I gave myself the kind of advice I would give a daughter in my life? What if I gave myself the care and interest and support my mother gave me? What if I was forgiving to myself as I'd like to think I'd be to my own daughter? What kind of life balance and mental health advice would I wish upon myself? All this and unlike if I had a daughter, I've already been through middle school and puberty and survived body issues and mean girls and heartbreak so I wouldn't have to guide someone else through it anew.

Maybe related, but when we were climbing Helags, the "path" up the mountain was more like an an occasional slapdash, easy-to-miss daub of hot pink paint on a rock. Growing up in flat Chicagoland I'm used to a path that's well marked and so well paved a roller blader could do it with her eyes closed. I guess that little blotch of pink was a metaphor for something. Be happy for the occasional splashes of paint you do see letting you know you're on the right track. They're usually not very visible.

Won't somebody think of the children??

Unlike most Evil Witches travel issues this story doesn't involve kids at all which perhaps is the point. It was of note that every other woman on the trip (none of whom I had met before) is also a mom which gave us something in common

What was a good reminder is that you can find the Evil Witch in just about every mom out there. I'm thinking particularly about my roommate Josée Bergeron, a mom of five (three teens and two toddler aged kiddos) who is very in touch with nature, raising her own food and having a home birth. And yet she did not mind leaving those five kids behind to embark on this solo adventure and when I asked her how she and her partner do bedtime, told me she hates it and that her husband does it. A woman after my own heart!

Most importantly for my own kids she is online enough to know what types of Swedish candy are popular which helped me go against my own complainings and bring home what felt like 30 pounds of Bubs as my kids' souvenir. Turns out all I need to be a fun mom is ten days away from them on another continent.

I know not everyone can afford to or take the time to replicate this trip (although Linda will be leading more in the future if you want to inquire: she told me that if she gets enough interest she will curate others aside from what she already has listed.) It's not easy or cheap to get away so far for so long. But if you can, do it.

Calling for witchy assistance!

Right before break I got a question from a reader married to someone with health complications who can use some advice on setting her family up for success/lowering expectations/making life easier when she returns to school:

I'm starting a Doctor of Physical Therapy program this fall. Turns out I'm not that worried about the coursework. I'm worried about home: me, my husband, and our 8-year-old.

My husband has severe chronic health problems. He can't sit or stand more than 10 minutes at a time and risks hospitalization if he overexerts. So I'm the only driver, though our son can walk to school. My husband still carries a lot of the emotional load and handles homework and school communication. Our son can microwave meals, make smoothies, and does laundry for Lego money. My parents live out of state and have helped during exam weeks, but they're getting older, so I don't know how long that lasts.

How do I do as little as possible at home while still managing dinner and clean underwear? How do I not feel guilty studying instead of parenting? Any Witches been here — grad school, a disabled spouse, figuring out age-appropriate independence for a kid? I'll take any wisdom on what to let go of, when to give myself a break, and what to actually ask for when people offer help. (I have found some online support groups really helpful (via Well Spouse and Caregiver Wisdom if anyone else is looking!)

If you can relate and have any advice to pass on to this witch please reply to this email or leave any advice in the comments me and I can share it with the reader anonymously (and may include it in a future issue).

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One witchy thing

Screenshot my husband text me of a text my son sent while I was OOT: