Yesterday we spent most of the day doing the big loop you can seem on the map above. We headed north from Stockholm by train to Stocksund, then about 40 minutes by bus north-east to Vaxholm, the largest island in the Stockholm archipelago.

The day was blustery and cold, with enough sun to get our hopes up. Warm did not eventuate, and to compensate we sheltered in doors for sustenance.

Our sustenance of choice in this case was American diner style burgers and onion rings. Oddly tempting on a day like it was.

The visitor centre was closed by the time we arrived, but we managed to sneak in to get a map. Expecting some kind of bush walking or the like, we found the island was well covered by the town and the tourist map made odd choices for places of interest, for example the former military parade ground (read: a grassy field). So we attempted to bush walk anyway, mostly by walking just behind people’s houses or just off the road among the trees.

As we walked and lost our way the whole place grew increasingly eerie — washed out, grey and windswept. The only colour were the yellowing leaves, but something about them falling silently in an empty world of holiday houses and silent school playgrounds was haunting. It set a mood like The Name of The Rise before the snowfall crossed with Les Rivières Pourpres. And the mood swelled.

We criss-crossed the island and came back to where we started. While walking around to the ferry we came to the main tourist attraction: Vaxholm Fortress.

The fortress casts a strange figure from its own island, barely 100m from the shore of Voxholm. The shadowy reflection of its tall stone walls made it halfway across the water to us.

I had to run to catch the ferry back to Stockholm. And on the hour long ride home thought that though pretty, Vaxholm was also kind of creepy.