On the last day of our 4-day cruise, the sun rose around 4 am while we were crossing Lake Vänern. At that time we were fast asleep in our cabin. Augusta had quite a different experience as described in her diary:
July, 1850
“As there was no cabin available except for that of the mate, which only had space for one person, I had to spend my night on deck. As it was a divinely beautiful evening, I complied with a rather good countenance.
The fate also benefited me this time; I was to get company on deck. The clock was barely 11 when a bump that shook the whole vessel proclaimed that we had run aground in the middle of Vänern. All passengers who had already been in their cabins and hammocks for a while now became visible, one after another, dressed up in the most bizarre toilets. The ladies were complaining loudly and Mr. Cassel and I, who in addition to the captain had been the only ones on deck, were now surrounded by a host of groggy and scared people who, unabashed in their curious costumes, formed the most ridiculous groups.
After six hours of being stationary, we began to go forward.”
By the 4th day of our cruise, we were already accustomed to bumps when Juno hit some sand at the bottom of the canal. But the night we spent on Lake Vänern was peaceful and I am sure our cabins were a lot more luxurious than those on Augusta’s steamboat.
“At noon, we arrived at Trollhättan. The weather was beautiful but the heat was suffocating. My company seemed absorbed by the deepest admiration of our Lord’s sovereignty as they took in the magnificent nature scene which meets the traveler’s eyes. I alone stood mute and numb (I sadly admit) in front of the imposing Toppö falls, which elicited countless exclamations of admiration from the other visitors. I had heard so much praise about Trollhättan that I, as usual, imagined something that in no way corresponded with reality. I saw nothing but an, indeed, quite respectable mass of water burst under my feet.
Painting of a waterfall in Trollhättan
I had imagined something I had once or twice read in travel descriptions: a fall, cascading from somewhere high above my head, in which I could see the sun’s rays refract into all the colors of the rainbow. In other words, I had imagined something that did not exist and, as a matter of fact, was highly unreasonable. I might as well have stood on the iron bridge in Norrköping, taking in the same view, although in miniature.”
Remnants of the Trollhättan locks built in 1800The Trollhättan locks seen from above
Having read Augusta’s descriptions, I was curious about what we would see. The waterfall that didn’t impress Augusta is only “turned on” during Trollhättan’s yearly water festival. But what impressed us were the old locks from 1800 that are now converted into a park. They resembled a gorge, with small waterfalls and rhododendron bushes clinging to the cliff sides. The system of locks that Augusta used, and which was built in 1844, was also included in the park – lined with walkways and meadows.
Juno had to use the newest set of locks – state of the art system and designed for commercial traffic. The locks were very deep and the walls looked like canvases of modern art created by scraped-off paint from the hulls of boats passing through the locks. At the bottom of one of the locks, and confined within the tall stone walls, our captain treated us to a soulful trumpet solo of a Swedish folk song – very moving!
Close-up images of the walls inside the new locks
“At night we arrived in the beautiful, stately Gothenburg.”
That is all that Augusta wrote about Gothenburg. To approach the city by boat was to us a great experience as Gothenburg has the largest and busiest port in Sweden. By 4 pm, we had reached our final destination.
What a memorable journey this had been! We wholeheartedly agreed with Augusta that the journey on Göta Canal is “…one of the most beautiful and pleasant trips one can make.
Kerstin and I had talked about taking a very early morning walk in Motala. We didn’t realize that by 7 am we would already be out on Lake Vättern, Sweden’s second largest lake. When I opened the cabin door, the breeze caught my nightgown and the air was crisp. The view was beautiful, a cobalt-blue sky meeting the deep blue water at the horizon, and the sun reflecting the ripples in the wake of Juno. Here and there, the waves had whitecaps.
On deck, we needed our big wool shawls. Inside the dining room it was cozy and while we crossed Lake Vättern we enjoyed an unhurried breakfast. Soon we arrived at Karlsborg. Here we were greeted by our cousin Tina and aunt Eva, who had sent us a package of antique nightgowns, old lace, and an 1850s Paisley shawl.
Kerstin in Karlsborg
We had cut the shawl into two pieces so each of us would get one – and we did wear them this morning. While the rest of our fellow travelers went on a tour of Karlsborg’s fort, we headed for the fort’s coffee shop. In our 1840s dresses and bonnets, we looked a little out of place among the soldiers stationed at the fort and wearing green camouflage uniforms.
After this little excursion, it was time to get back on Göta Canal again. Our first challenge would be the lock and bridge at Forsvik. The lock is Göta Canal’s oldest lock; both the lock and the bridge were built in 1813. Without knowing all the details of unseasonable low water levels combined with the curvature of the canal right before the lock, we realized that maneuvering Juno into the canal would be a challenge. The log fenders hanging over Juno’s sides were getting squeezed and splintered against the sides of the canal but they sure did the job in the tight curve Juno was to pass through. All this maneuvering really made us appreciate the expertise and experience of the captains (we had two!) and the crew.
Forsvik is also home to a religious family who has for 3 generations greeted the canal boats with music, flowers, and blessings. As expected, there they were with guitars and accordions, flags of many nationalities, and bouquets of wild flowers for Juno’s hostesses. The hymns they were singing were familiar and most of us passengers sang along.
After Forsvik, we entered Billströmmen, a current in the canal surrounded by pools of water and lily ponds. We then entered the most beautiful part of Göta Canal: Spetsnäskanalen, built in 1824. The forest surrounding the canal could have been the inspiration for children’s story-books about gnomes and trolls.
The canal lead us out into Lake Viken. Having the highest altitude – 91.8 meter over the ocean – it serves as the reservoir for the Göta Canal. One more lock after this lake (Lock Tåtorp) and we would start going down the locks instead of climbing up as we had done for the first 3 days.
The rest of the canal between Lake Viken and Lake Vänern was also spectacularly beautiful and we had the opportunity to walk along the canal.
Our final destination this day was Sjötorp where we visited the Canal Museum
Juno heading for Sjötorp
Once aboard again, we settled down for a nice IPA on deck while Juno headed out on Lake Vänern – the largest lake in Sweden and the 3rd largest in Europe. The weather was favorable and we would cross the lake while sound asleep in our cozy little cabin.
Day 2 of our cruise started in Söderköping. This is where Augusta boarded the paddle-steamer Götheborg in August 1850. And here we were, 167 years later, following her travels with her diary as a guide. She was 23 years old, and wrote in her diary that as soon as the boat was moving, she set out to assess her fellow travelers. She was not impressed; instead, she resorted to reading the recently published and popular novel, A Rumor, by Emilie Flygare-Carlen. I was of course curious about the novel and had bought an antique copy of the book and brought along just in case I needed something to read.
Of course I could not read. Our boat was gliding through the canal and giving us a close-up view of summer meadows and bright yellow fields of blooming rapeseed, groves of aspen and birch trees, and cows grazing among yellow buttercups and purple cranesbill. Instead of reading, I stood in the bow with my Nikon camera, trying to catch all the colors. Maybe Augusta would have loved that.
Local colors
And then, out of sudden, a young dear jumped into the canal, swam across, and jumped up on the other side. Then it was almost out of sight in the tall, green grass.
In this paradise, the only man-made sound was the humming of Juno’s engine. The most amazing sound, that we all marveled over, was the repertoire of the nightingale. The little bird was still singing even though the sun had been up since 4 am. June in Sweden is amazing.
We were making good time, which created a small dilemma when we reached the little town of Norsholm a bit too early. At Norsholm, both the main railroad and the E4 highway between Stockholm and southern Sweden cross Göta Canal. The E4 bridge is very high and we hardly even noticed the bridge. But the railroad bridge has to open for canal boats and for this, timing relative to the train schedules is essential. As we were a little early, the crew took the opportunity to bring the recyclable trash to the appropriate containers close by, and to pick up some groceries as well. Augusta would have wondered about all this!
After Norsholm we entered Lake Roxen and now it was time for lunch. An appetizer of bread with cheeses and herring was followed by plum baked farmhouse pork with black currant jelly, herb fried potatoes and gravy. We paired it with local IPA beers. The small dining room, with white linen table cloths and fresh flowers, made us remember our etiquette rules and Kerstin and I tried our best to get our wide skirts out of the way, sit straight, and not spill any black currant jelly on our dresses.
As we were waiting for the main course, we heard a loud rattling sounds of chains – was it the boat’s steering mechanism? We asked our most wonderful hostess who laughed and explained that it was the chains of the food elevator that was bringing up our plates from the pantry below. Fascinating!
We had barely finished our meal when we reached the most famous set of locks on the entire canal – the Carl Johan Staircase at Berg. But while Juno was climbing up the 7 connected locks, we had another surprise.
-I will come and meet you at Berg locks, she had said. Just look for a farm hand wearing a big black hat. I will be biking along the canal with my old rake.
The farmhand
Our good friend is a kindred spirit! There she was, just as promised, biking and waving! Soon we also realized that she might have called the regional newspaper (click on the link to see the video and read the article in Swedish). We were delighted to share our excitement about Augusta’s Journey with the journalist and photographer. What made it even more interesting was that we were now very close to the parish where Augusta was born (Slaka, Östergötland) – so Augusta’s Journey was really local news.
As the rest of Juno’s passengers had made an excursion to a local abbey and were not back yet, Kerstin and I strolled along the canal in the sunshine. Our parasols finally came in handy.
Photo credit: Pelle Johansson
At Heda locks, we all made it back on board. Our captain treated us to a trumpet solo of a Swedish summer hymn while the cruise hostesses had picked bouquets of wildflowers for the dining room. We soon settled on deck to have our afternoon coffee while taking in the ever-changing view of the landscape.
Suddenly we noticed the first of two aqueducts. The canal was on a bridge spanning over a highway. It must have been a sight for the drivers below to see an old canal boat move along on the bridge above! The aqueducts are fairly recent additions to Göta Canal but Thomas Telford, the Scottish engineer who was the architect of Göta Canal, had already built an aqueduct for a canal in Wales; the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct is now a UNESCO world heritage site.
The next interesting lock was at Borensberg. This is the only hand-maneuvered lock left. All the other locks are electronically maneuvered by local lock tenders. As our cruise was early in the season and the canal was not yet open for private yachts and boats, we realized that Juno had a lock tender that drove ahead to each upcoming lock.
After crossing Lake Boren, we reached our stop for the night – Motala. The sky had taken on a beautiful red hue as the sun was setting. Kerstin and I decided to take a walk in this little picturesque town before ending the day with a cold IPA on deck. Another memorable day!
Having left Stockholm, we were now cruising on Lake Mälaren and taking a little detour to view Drottningholm, the UNESCO world heritage site and home of the royal family.
Drottningholm
From there, we passed the island of Ekerö where Augusta spent a memorable Saturday in June, 1851 with three famous Swedish politicians and leaders: Gustaf Lallerstedt, A. Oscar Wallenberg, and August Sohlman.
“The Saturday after my arrival we were invited by Lallerstedt to his property, Stafsund. At 8 o’clock in the morning, we traveled by the steamboat Westmanland, whose captain was a heartily nice fellow. In the middle of Mälaren, we were met by, and transferred to, another boat.
The day was cloudy, but the weather in general was impeccable.
The corps de logis at Stafsund is made of stone, built during the time of Charles XII. The innumerable rooms are dark and gloomy and furnished in an unpleasant, old-fashioned way.
The surroundings are indescribably beautiful and offer the most diverse views of Mälaren. It is all so beautiful; we spent a rather enjoyable day outdoors and were treated to a grand dinner consisting of six dishes of food and a variety of wines. In the evening, when we were to return to Stockholm by steamboat, we were late and had to ride in a hay wagon back to Kungsholmen. With us were Wallenberg and a Master Sohlman, who is a member of Bore and who was unreasonably enthusiastic regarding Denmark, where he had joined the Danes in their fight [against the German separatists in the war of 1848].”
Back to Juno. We were now heading towards Södertälje, where we would enter the largest lock in all of the Nordic countries. This lock would lead us back to the Baltic Sea. The first lock was built here between 1806 and 1809, enabling ships from Lake Mälaren to reach the Baltic Sea through this route.
The next stop, and first excursion, was in the little town of Trosa.
Trosa
Unfortunately, it had started to rain. Instead of parasols, Kerstin and I dug out umbrellas from our carpet bags and braved the ever increasing rain. But, of course, we had to experience walking in rain in our long dresses and silk bonnets! The little, old, wood houses lining the canal through Trosa makes for a picturesque walk and we convinced ourselves that this kind of weather was great for photography. It was not great for our fabric shoes and neither for the hems of our dresses.
We certainly made sure not to be late getting back to Juno (didn’t want to risk having to ride in a hay wagon to Juno’s next stop).
Back again on Juno, we had to change into the next set of dresses we had brought, and hung all the wet clothes to dry in our little cabin. As it was time for dinner, we just followed the advice: “Tradition has it that the guests change to something a bit more elegant for dinner.”The dinner, by the way, was in line with Augusta’s description – it was grand!
After dinner, the rain subsided and the clouds were dissipating. Now the cruise was taking us through the archipelago south of Trosa, stunning with sparse vegetation and smooth cliffs illuminated by the setting sun. In contrast, the hazy lights of the industrial buildings in Oxelösund – discernible in the distance – painted a surreal picture.
Evening lights
And soon, it was dark; sea and sky were merging into a dark blue color. Time for bed. We got our bunk beds ready but left the cabin door ajar so we could still see the dark blue sky between our swaying, wet dresses.
Oh my. What a fun and memorable cruise we participated in last week! It was above all expectations!
It started with the taxi ride to Old Town, Stockholm.
-We would like a big taxi, said Kerstin to the taxi operator, it is not that we have a lot of suitcases, we just have wide skirts.
I don’t know what the taxi driver was expecting, but the next morning, up pulled a 7-passenger van with seats facing each other, almost like a Victorian carriage. It was perfect.
In the carriage
Traffic was slow-moving during the morning rush-hour into Stockholm, but that gave us the opportunity to practice our white-gloved waves and give the Stockholm commuters something to muse about.
Getting closer to the Royal Palace in Old Town, we could see Juno, the beautiful little canal boat that was going to be our home for the next 4 days. The moment had finally arrived – we were going to trace the trip Augusta made on Göta Canal in 1850.
The taxi pulled up at the quay and the driver helped us line up our carpet bags and hat boxes in front of Juno. Relatives and well-wishers were arriving and surprised us – so nice of all to take the time to come into Stockholm at this early hour to wave goodbye. Early morning tourists walking along the quay below the Royal Palace also stopped by and wanted us to appear with them in their photos of Stockholm.
Soon it was time to embark. The smart-looking crew took care of our unusual baggage and helped us over the gangway.
Our cabin was on the top deck. The first, and what became our daily challenge, was to climb up the steep and narrow companionway with our voluminous dresses and layers of petticoats. We soon learned that you had to gather the skirt with the left hand and hold on to the rail with the other hand. Augusta must have done the same.
The cabin
Our luggage had been delivered to our charming little cabin which had varnished mahogany trimming, beautiful wallpaper, a little commode, and two charming bunk beds. If you want to get a real cultural experience, this is it! What we are sure Augusta did not get, was a wonderful surprise: a small bottle of champagne and fresh strawberries!
Welcome surprise
But this was not the time to unpack or admire our antique cabin. The crew had been busy for our departure and three short, loud signals announced that the engine was going astern – we were departing!
Time to get our handkerchiefs out and wave goodbye, just like Augusta had described:
“After I had, with my handkerchief, waved a last goodbye to my friends left on the shore, my focus was soon on our beautiful capital city, which from the Baltic offers the view of a grand painting. “
Well the difference was of course that in addition to just viewing our beautiful capital city, here we were – both in 1840s dresses – photographing and filming the “grand painting” with iPhones and large Nikon cameras with long lenses.
Kerstin waving goodbye
Soon after departure, we entered our first lock – the Hammarby Lock – and then entered Lake Mälaren. As the clouds were hanging low and it started drizzling, this was a good time for the 34 passengers to meet in the dining room and get introduced to the 11 crew members on the boat.
By then end of the 4-day cruise, we all felt like one big family.
The boat jolted; where were we? I opened our cabin door – the chilly, early morning air was refreshing. I looked at my watch – 5 am; it was already light outside. On deck, a few fellow passengers were waving to early joggers along the canal. The city of Söderköping was waking up.
I could feel the boat slowly being lifted; we were obviously already inside the lock. One could hear the water rushing in between the two huge doors of the lock in front of M/S Juno’s bow.
Soon we were out of the lock and moving at a slow, pleasant pace, passing by lush green trees and meadows with grazing cows. A nightingale was singing with its characteristic clicks and calls.
Göta Canal
Our dresses, damp from previous day’s walk in the rain, and hung to dry on each side of the cabin door, were swaying with the slow motions of the boat. Even the long, white stockings, wet and muddy from the walk, were slowly swaying over the window.
How could a morning be more peaceful that this!
And the last day of May was as lovely as it could ever be
How can a boat climb 18.8 meters up a hill? The marvel of the 7 connected locks of Carl Johan Staircase, finished in 1818, can only be truly appreciated aboard a boat like M/S Juno that just about fits within each lock.
Lock
It takes time for the boat to enter, wait for the water level to rise, and then exit the lock. And this process is repeated for each of the 7 locks. This gave our fellow passengers a chance to walk to the historical Wreta Abbey close by. Times have not changed – this is what Augusta and her fellow passengers also did on their Göta Canal trip in 1850:
We were in the neighborhood of Wreta Abbey and our company seemed determined to disembark. I was conversing with the two Frenchmen and we marched arm in arm to the newly restored Wreta Church, which we found open. My cavaliers began to tire me with their French so I resolutely took August’s arm and led the whole company back to the locks while singing “Rest by This Source” and “La Marseillaise”. When we arrived at the last lock, the steamer had not yet arrived so we sat down in the green grass and played games. Finally, our smoking abode arrived and cheerfully we boarded the boat.
Kerstin and I did not walk along the canal arm in arm with any cavaliers. But we did walk along the canal under blooming whitebeam trees and hawthorn bushes, and we did sing Rest by This Source by Bellman. And our wide skirts swayed as we walked and our bonnets were catching the breeze and had to be tied tighter not to fall off.
And the last day of May was as lovely as it could ever be.
We really don’t know what kind of shawl Augusta, or her mother, used when travelling. Most likely, they had large, dark, wool shawls to keep warm. Where they locally produced or imported?
In the 1800s, shawls with paisley pattern was the fashion. The shawls were large and multicolored. No artist can beat the Belgian painter Alfred Stevens (1823-1906) in rendering the beautiful Paisley shawls of fashionable women in Belgium and France during the later half of the 19th century:
The original shawls with the buta design were Kashmir shawls, hand-woven in Kashmir with Cashmere goat wool. They were expensive and had to be imported. The invention of the Jacquard loom made it possible for Europeans to produce similar shawls. The Scottish town of Paisley became the center for this industry, and gave name to the droplet, leaf design. The National Museum of Scotland, located in Edinburgh, has a nice collection of early Paisley shawls and designs:
Now that Kerstin and I have made our 1850s dresses, we need shawls. So how would one be able to get an antique, Paisley shawl? One could be lucky, like blogger Beauty_for_Ashes, and stumble upon one at an antique mall (and the blog is hilarious), but that is rare.
But we were equally lucky. Our aunt Eva, who had followed Augusta’s Journey, called us one day and asked if we wanted some old nightgowns, lace, ribbons, and an old shawl that she had inherited from two of her aunts. Within a week, the package arrived by mail – and it contained a Paisley shawl from the mid-1800s!!! I don’t think we even realized at first what a treasure this shawl was. Of course, we don’t know that this one was made in Scotland, but it is antique and has the distinctive paisley pattern. After consulting with an expert, we decided that it would be OK to divide it into two shawls, so we each get one. Kerstin is now lining it with thin fabric so we can mend it where the threads are weak.
But maybe we should also have some additional scarves. As I was going to be in Dubai for a while, I decided to check out the shawl market. The first week, we made a trip to Sohar, Oman, and found a traditional, Kashmir store. The manager was from Nepal and showed me the various qualities and styles. I settled on a large, red, machine-embroidered, square shawl in a blend of cashmere wool and cotton.
My Kashmir shawl from Oman
Now I needed a green shawl and it had to be the right green color for my dress made out of thrift-store, green-and-white curtains. Back in Dubai, I figured the best place to find one would be around the old Gold Souk in Deira. This is one of my favorite places in Dubai, and especially late in the evening: the myriads of people from all over the world – Asia, Africa, Europe, America – crowding the sidewalks under blinking neon lights, maneuvering around the plastic chairs and tables of chicken and shawarma restaurants, and side-stepping delivery push-carts. And the sounds: music streaming from air-conditioned souvenir stores, the latest Arabic love songs from street cafés, and the singsong message of those pesky street vendors who descend on tourists – “Pashmina, handbags, watches, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, …” I wave them off before they have finished their rant of famous fashion brands.
We are getting closer to the actual entrance to the Gold Souk, and I have yet to see a shawl that is of high quality or the right color. When the next street vendor starts his rant about pashmina, why not elicit his help? But honestly, what is pashmina? I had actually looked it up before going on my shawl hunt.
Pashmina refers to the finer fibers of the wool from cashmere goats local to Kashmir and Nepal. The courser fibers are called cashmere. The fine pashmina fibers can only be hand spun, so Pashmina shawls are all hand-made in Kashmir using hand-spun, 100% pashmina fibers. Cashmere shawls, on the other hand, are made with the courser, cashmere fibers and can be blended with other types of wool or fibers – such as silk. The fiber blend has to be stated; for example, 70% cashmere: 30% silk. So my Cashmere shawl from Oman was 50% cashmere: 50% cotton.
My green shawl
The street vendor gets excited and leads us into an alley with small Afghan shawl shops. This is his job – to introduce us to the shop keeper – and then leave. I tell the shop keeper what I am looking for and he shows me what I definitely don’t want – but, as a European, I am supposed to want.
As the communication is not working, I start digging in his piles of shawls with my dress-fabric sample as a color guide. I find a shawl that perfectly matches the color of the dress and it has a nice paisley pattern. But, of course, it is probably made of viscose or something similar. “Ma’am, this is 100% pashmina, best quality – you can wash it in machine!”
Well, if it was 100% pashmina, you would not be able to machine-wash it.
What is the price?
As customary, he shows me the price on a pocket calculator: 550 AED ($150) – are you kidding me! Azzeddine, my patient husband, asks me about my reservation price; I whisper “40 AED” – that is $12, the price I would be willing to pay at TJMAXX or Target in the US, or at Carrefour in Dubai, if they had the shawl.
The shop keeper tries to go half way – 250. He is not going to budge. Neither is Azzeddine. I show my lack of interest by walking out of the store. Azzeddine, still determined to get me the shawl, pulls out a 50 AED note and puts it on the counter with the body language signaling that either you take it or we leave. The shop keeper, without saying a word, reluctantly puts the shawl in a plastic bag and hands it over.
OK, $14 is still reasonable for a non-cashmere, non-pashmina shawl that has the right color and pattern. I am sure I could have had it for half the price if push came to shove.
And of course, as the weeks go by, I find other pretty shawls and scarves that I just have to buy. At least I am getting better at bargaining.
My purple paisley shawl
Which brings me back to Augusta: where did she buy her shawls? Were they imported? What did they look like? Does anyone in our large, extended family have one, or a reference to one?
From a distance, through the trees, you can discern the yellow mansion that is Loddby. Loddby was owned by Gustaf Leijedenfrost who was twice Augusta’s brother in law. After both her sisters and her father had died, Leijdenfrost became Augusta’s wealthy benefactor and Augusta and her mother made Loddby their home.
Kerstin and I are finally going to visit the home of Augusta, or at least walk around the house with Augusta as our guide.
“We have, God be praised, spring and the most wonderful, sunny days. Nature has awakened from its long winter slumber and, in its rich diversity, one sees once again evidence of the Creator’s greatness, power, and kindness. The lark sings so elaborately and happily from high among the clouds; the Cuckoo’s monotonous, but all so dear and longed for, ho ho, ho ho, can be heard from the forest; the butterfly flutters around with its mottled wings and gives the welcome kiss to the little blue and red flowers, just sprouted from the ground; the swallows, the little travelers from foreign countries, rebuild their nests under Swedish roofs and cheerfully soar towards the clear, blue heaven. It is really lovely in the country this time of the year; one breathes so easily and feels so happy and so grateful to the One who created the sun, the air, the flowers, the light, and the little winged creatures who give life to this wonderful painting. Worries cannot really get a foothold in our chests when the sun shines so kindly and clearly and everything around us is renewed and rejoices .” (Loddby, 25 May 1851)
Yes, that is how it feels today; the sky is blue, the trees have little bright green leaf buds, a single fly is buzzing around, and high up in the sky there are a few soaring birds. Of course, one can also hear the humming from traffic on E4 close by, but we ignore that.
We park the car behind the mansion and decide to first walk through the woods down to the shores of Bråviken. This is where Augusta’s family would arrive if they took boats for their travels. It was customary to announce the arrival of the boats by firing a cannon.
Bråviken
“… four cannon shots announced that Leijdenfrost was in the vicinity. Mr. Lindgren went out in the boat to pick him up and Mom and I welcomed him on the shore.” (Loddby, August 1850)
“August is home! These words are a goodbye to the joy; they are the Pandora’s Box from which all my pain and discomfort emanate. At 17 o’clock, the ship Göthen anchored and four sailors in red outfits rowed August to shore, but no happy physiognomies met him on his return home.” (Loddby, 23 april 1851)
The still surface of Bråviken reflects the birch trees and willows along the shore and we try to envision the commotion of anchoring ships and firing of cannons; sometimes bringing dear visitors and sometimes Augusta’s not-so-welcome brother.
Walking back up from the shore gives us a view of the back side of the mansion. In 1847, could you see the water from the second floor of the house? Was there a garden on this side?
Loddby
“The rain has come down as if the sky was wide open and the storm is shaking the windowpanes; it is impossible to travel to Fullerstad. Nature has created a revolution and it is very depressing and sad to see how the garden is like a lake and our tall, beautiful maple trees are losing one branch after another.” (Loddby, 29 August 1851)
And looking at the house, there are two chimneys – how many tile stoves (Swedish: kakelugn) were used to heat the house? And which one did August destroy?
“Yesterday evening we once again had a scare by one of the shocking events that time after time happens at Loddby. Malla had put a bag of gun powder by a tiled stove in which August threw a lit letter. Suddenly everything exploded – the entire tiled stove collapsed, all windows broke, and August himself had his whole right side burned. Doctor Åberg has been here today; there is no danger although it is extremely painful.” (Loddby, 28 July 1851)
We walk around the house and view it from the front – it is quite small under the tall trees that seem to have been planted in rows, long after Augusta’s time.
Loddby
The mansion has two matching wings that create a small courtyard. This is where the guests would have arrived in their carriages. And that was Augusta’s life at Loddby: Who came? Nobody came? How long did they stay?
“They left a while ago; everyone is now asleep. There is a deadly silence in the house, and I sit in my lonely chamber, writing down a few lines from my memory of a day that will never come again.” (Loddby, 25 August 1850)
And when nobody came, Augusta got consolation from her religion.
“Almost a whole sad month has passed since I last wrote a few words in my diary. I have nothing but gloomy days and sad events to write off. We have clothes, we have food, we have health (undoubtedly great gifts of God, who deserves all our gratitude) but there is a saying that when the beggar gets cheese, he also wants to have it fried and this unbelieving beggar is me. 0h! I would so much also have a little peace and joy. When our Lord takes away our calm and peace, he gives us hope as compensation and consolation, but hope finally fails us when we cannot see any end of our battles.” (Loddby, 26 September 1851)
There is another old road that leads from the house, passed an old, red, farm building –maybe a granary? This one could also be from Augusta’s time.
Loddby
We follow the road, and it is possibly the old road that would lead to Krusenhof. The surroundings are beautiful – maybe this is one of the small fields where Augusta’s mother was growing peas?
The road
When the sun goes behind a cloud in the sky, the March weather is still chilly, and I wonder how it was during the long winter. That is when visitors were scarcer and the loneliness probably felt more acute.
“The sun is now bidding farewell to our earth, engilding the sky and the tree tops with a blood-red shine. The north wind rages in the branches of the leafless trees and gusts around the corners of our house with a howling sound. It lifts the dry leaves with whirling speed up against the black, rainy clouds, chasing each other over our heads and then dies down to rest as to gather strength to start again with an increased rage. When during such a dark and stormy autumn night, one is in one’s own warm room in front of a nice fire, one values the good life – in contrast to when nature is calm.” (Loddby, 2 November 1850)
“Outside, the pleasant autumn is already in full color, and I have a fearful vision of the cold winter, when one is, in a way, frozen solid to Loddby.” (Loddby, 28 August 1850)
Kerstin and I turn back to the house and our parked car. A snake basking among the sunbaked rocks make us jump. Blue scilla and white anemones are already dotting the meadows. And Augusta’s words summarize our visit to Loddby:
“… the sun shines so kindly and clearly and everything around us is renewed and rejoices.”
