‘It’s going to be a dream day for ice hiking,’ laughs the likeable man in his midforties in the orange outdoor clothing that everyone here in the car park somehow wears. I look sceptically at the cloudy sky. It’s 7 a.m. and it’s been raining cats and dogs all night. Our programme for the day, to take the gravel bikes for a ride around Marifret, is buried in mud. The thought of skating on the lake seems absurd to me. The Swede laughs. ‘Anything is possible here in spring, but the rain tonight has practically renewed the ice. Like an ice machine in an ice hockey stadium, the rain freezes as soon as it hits the ice and makes it new and smooth again. The sun will shine all day today. His open manner and good humour are infectious, as is the exuberant mood of his whole group. It’s a refreshing potpourri of young and old, sport and socialising. Ice skating is a national sport in Sweden. On nice weekends, hundreds of skaters from Stockholm clubs come to Marifet in buses. I’m talking about our original plan to go gravel biking around Marifet when I get a crazy idea.
Have you ever seen cyclists on ice? The man with the greying three-day beard, who has introduced himself to me as Henrik Swenson, laughs again: ‘A friend of mine does it from time to time, but I’ve never seen anyone on a bike on the ice myself – but it’s possible’. Daniel and I look at each other. We’ve already converted our bikes to spikes at home, because they’re compulsory even on the roads here in Sweden.
Doing is like talking – I think and ask Henrik Swenson what he thinks of my idea of moving our tour to the lake. His laughter gives way to an appraising look at us and our bikes. ‘The ice out there is no joke. Even though it’s up to 60 centimetres thick in many places now in February, you have to know your way around. I’ve been riding here since I was a child, around 3000 kilometres every winter, but I still have great respect for the ice and nature.
Don’t get me wrong, but you don’t just get out of the heated Hymer and do that. My disappointed face must have spoken volumes…
‘It would be a shame if you’d travelled all this way for nothing,’ laughs Henrik Swenson again and after a 20-minute safety briefing, our guide agrees to let us follow his group.
„Säkerheten först!“ Safety first.
The first rule that the guide from Stockholm gives us is: ‘Never travel alone’. This applies to frozen water just as much as it does to liquid water when diving.
Secondly, never forget your emergency equipment,’ he explains, pointing to his rucksack. The emergency equipment in it essentially consists of three things.
Firstly, a whistle to make yourself known if you have broken through the ice.
Secondly, two ice axes. They are worn on a lanyard around the neck or on the rucksack so that they are immediately ready to hand. The handles with the steel tips are used to hold on to the edge when the ice under your feet is no longer firm. Without an ice axe, it would be impossible to move on solid ice. The third part of the set consists of a small bag with a thin but very tear-resistant line about 20 metres long, which is attached to the rucksack. In an emergency, the bag with the line can be thrown to a partner who is waiting at a safe distance. They can then pull you back onto the solid ice. Some people also have an inflated airbag in their rucksack to provide buoyancy in the event of a collapse.
‘It’s also a good idea to have a few spare clothes in your rucksack just in case,’ says Henrik with a wink.
Then we set off and I can say from the bottom of my heart that, despite 60 centimetres of ice and 260 spikes, our arses are on ice.
It just feels wrong to put a bike on this seemingly endless surface.
Henrik sets the pace. They glide over the perfect ice at over 30 kilometres per hour in bright sunshine. He and his three friends have set themselves a 100-kilometre tour for today, and only the gentle whirring of our spikes disturbs the silence a little.
At 1,000 square kilometres, Lake Mälaren is the third largest lake in Sweden and around twice the size of Lake Constance.
When the temperatures drop well below freezing in late autumn, the huge lake landscape west of Stockholm turns into a paradise for ice skaters – or more precisely, ice hikers – virtually overnight. The area around Stockholm is ideal for this, as it is usually too warm in the south and there is too much snow on the lakes further north.
And while ice surfaces in this country have to be at least 20 centimetres thick to be allowed on in winter – if at all – the skating season in Sweden starts at a thickness of just 4.5 centimetres. The first ice in winter – the so-called ‘black ice’ – is extremely firm and every skater’s dream thanks to its extreme clarity.
Special ice maps show skaters when and where the lakes freeze over first. In spring, the ice is constantly in motion. The warmth of the day causes cracks to open up, sometimes extending from one shore to the other. When it gets warmer, they grow into impassable cracks. However, these can disappear again the next day and during night frost, when the ice expands and pushes the cracks together.
The ice under our tyres is constantly changing colour. Sometimes it is so clear that you can see right to the bottom, then you have the feeling of floating. Then again it is milky cloudy with bizarre floes of broken ice. The feeling is always the same – indescribable. We ride our bikes to places that are usually only accessible by boat and islands that are otherwise kilometres away from the shore pass us by. It’s difficult to describe this complete silence and vastness on all sides.
‘On perfect days, you can skate on the Mälaren all the way to the mouth of the Baltic Sea,’ Henrik tells us, beaming with joy. From time to time, he stops to check the thickness and condition of the ice with a pointed pole about two metres long. ‘This is particularly important near the shore and in the area of the rogues.’ Rogues are permanent streams of water that are responsible for large open areas in the ice and near which the water is very unstable.
In the early afternoon, we take a short break on one of the countless islands in the Mälaren. We meet Björn Ericson and his wife. Both are over 70 and, like Henrik’s group, they share a lifelong passion for ice.
‘We’re on our way to the biggest cake buffet in Sweden,’ says Björn mischievously. In the meantime, Daniel’s and my stomachs have gone from a state of bliss to a state of hunger. A brief description of the more than 50 types of cake and Henrik’s absolution later, we glide with Björn and his wife towards ‘Schlemmerland’ towards the sunset.
At the landing stage, we thank our guides for taking us across the ice and cycle up the hill to Taxinge Castle.
The 18th century castle is now home to the Slottscafe, which is known far beyond Sweden’s borders for its fika. Fika’ means a coffee break with delicious biscuits, Danish pastries or cake. We are not disappointed. The sight of the buffet and the first bite of the cinnamon bun leave us just as speechless as the cosy atmosphere. After two more pieces of cake, it is twice as hard to leave the warm parlour.
When we reach the landing stage in Marifret, where we started our journey eight hours earlier, the sun is just barely making it over the towers of Gripsholm Castle.
Time for one last dream. From the ice – into the ice. Daniel looks at my outfit in disbelief – swimming trunks – really?
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Words & Photos: Daniel Geiger
