In the distance, you hear the blast of ship horns and the rattle of containers being moved. At the harbor in Frederikshavn, tall fences and steel cranes rise against the sky. STENA LINE is printed on a white sign above the terminals. You turn left and follow the signs toward the vehicles. Cars and trucks inch forward. A young woman sits at the booth.

‘Welcome, can I have your passport, please?’ she asks with a smile.

You slide your passport under the window.

She types something on her keyboard, glances briefly at the screen, then hands your passport back together with your ticket.

‘Row five.’

In your rearview mirror, you watch more cars line up behind you. Slowly, the line grows longer. You wait. Dusk settles over the harbor. For nearly an hour, nothing happens.

Then, finally, movement.

You start the engine and drive onto the ship via a massive loading ramp. A crew member in a fluorescent jacket is already waiting, gesturing you to the left.

You park your car on the vehicle deck and grab your backpack. With a shove, the heavy cabin door slides open with a squeak. You walk up the metal stairs.

Above, a maze of long corridors opens up, with a bar, a buffet restaurant, and even a small supermarket with shopping carts. The ship is so large that you could easily get lost.

You stop for a moment at an information display. You look for the sun deck.

Deck 9.

That’s where you need to be.

As soon as the outer door opens, the smell of diesel rushes inside, and the rumble of the engines fills the space. Outside, the wind cuts across your skin, and you feel the steel vibrating beneath your feet. Bright orange lifeboats hang in vertical rows high above your head.

Beneath them hang long cylindrical capsules.

As you step closer, you realize they’re inflatable life rafts.

Your eyes linger on the railing. Water scrapes along the hull, leaving streaks of white foam behind.

In the distance, a light appears.

Three short flashes.

Then a long pause.

You blink.

It’s gone.

Or maybe not.

A lighthouse.

You keep watching the golden sky as it slowly fades into the sea.

Here, in the middle of the sea, you realize how small you really are.

At three o’clock in the morning, the ship enters the harbor of Gothenburg. The loading ramp drops with a heavy thud. The traffic light turns green, and you drive into the city. Around you, concrete buildings glow under bright lights. In the distance, the illuminated Sjömanstornet rises above the rooftops.

Half an hour later, you leave the city behind. The roads become quieter and darker. You still need to find a place to spend the night. On the map, you find a parking area in the middle of a nature reserve. Overnight parking seems to be allowed there.

You decide to give it a try.

When you turn off the road, the pavement gives way to a gravel road full of bumps and potholes. Towering pine trees close in on both sides.

It’s completely silent.

A shiver runs through your stomach.

Something darts across the road in the headlights.

You slam on the brakes.

Too fast to see what it was.

The road leads you deeper into the forest, to the place you had found on the map. A black van is parked there, and a few tents have been pitched on the grassy clearing.

It’s reassuring not to be alone in the dark forest.

You look up. The sky is already beginning to grow lighter. You glance at your watch.

It’s already four o’clock in the morning.

Just a few hours of sleep.

But not for long.

A few hours later, you’re awakened by the screech of brakes. Still half asleep, you unzip the window. Outside, a line of school buses is parked. Students with backpacks, dressed in athletic clothes, stream into the forest.

Most likely a school field trip.

After all, it’s a weekday.

With a fresh cup of coffee, you sit down on a large boulder. The morning air still feels cool. Pine trees stretch as far as you can see. Massive boulders are covered with layers of moss. In front of you, a black woodpecker drums its beak against a hollow tree. The sound echoes through the dense forest.

Your thoughts begin to wander.

Wild camping…

That’s what you’re looking for.

In Sweden, the allemansrätten allows you to camp freely, as long as you respect nature and leave no trace.

‘Leave no trace but footprints.’

That’s the motto.

You take out your phone and open Min Karta. A woman on the ferry had recommended it to you. A detailed map of roads and trails appears on the screen. You zoom in and move across the map. A thin line winds deep through the forest toward a large lake.

You study the route for a moment.

Could you get there?