My

My
ambulations along the coast of West Sweden start in
Gothenburg, with a table at the city’s version of Noma, Koka. In a low-lit dining room, dressed up with
tactile wood and stone, diners are treated to dishes the eating of
which is akin to your gently and voraciously dragging your mouth
across the forest floor and sea bed. I take an early reservation
and then head out on a 90-minute drive towards Stora Hotellet i
Fjällbacka, an offbeat Bohuslän stay. The 23-key guesthouse,
right on the archipelago’s edge, first flung its wonky doors open
way back in 1834, when Mamsell Charlotta Hanqvist ran it as an inn
and shop. Each room is designed with the intrepid traveller – or a
fictional sailor – in mind. We bed down in a room whose decor is an
ode to the tropics. Artworks and artefacts from Buenos Aires dot
the snug attic space, while a deep bathtub offers ocean views.

A KOKA dish, left, and a street in Gothenburg |
Image credit: Anders Husa / Westsweden.com

In this region, lobster fishing might be celebrated, but for us,
it means only one thing: frustrating cavorts on the waves as we
hunt for the black gold of the sea, a decadent dinner looking
increasingly unlikely. It turns out, other than luck, you don’t
need much when lobster fishing. An expedition to catch some claws
goes a little like this: you lay cages of bait deep down at
different spots around the harbour, and wait. Even those fishing
for hours, with decades of experience behind them, can still come
home with an empty bucket.

The boats glide out to place their pots at the crack of dawn. We
join an experienced fisherman, all of us dressed up in matching
high-vis wetsuits and black boots, to sail around the harbour
fringes, with few sightings of crustacean claws, but we do enjoy a
cinematic oceanside viewing of Isabella Rossellini’s holiday home
and an up-close experience with the pelting coastal rain. Our catch
isn’t bountiful – the fisherman must toss any pregnant lobsters
back into the swell – but we’re still in luck. After disembarking,
we find they’ve laid a sumptuous lobster dinner back at the hotel.
No word on who’d caught it – or how.

Islands in the sea, Fjällbacka | Image
credit: Tomseye / Westsweden.com

A new life with oysters

It’s not just lobsters. Bohuslän’s northern climate and chilly
waters make for magnificent oysters, perfect for both home-shucking
and world-class dining on seafood selections from acclaimed chefs.
Most of Sweden’s bivalves are exported, but our visit to Havstenssunds Ostron, a 45-minute drive further
upcoast from Fjällbacka, offers a chance to try them fresh. Here,
you can indulge in the carnal pleasure of carving open oyster after
oyster, drinking in the sculptured granite coast of this peaceful
Swedish corner as you gobble down the fruits of the sea. Rocks look
like giant, black eggs. The treeline is sparse.

We meet Ulrika and Mathias, the cheery-faced, characterful
couple behind Havstenssunds Ostron. They enthrill us with sea
stories and warm generosity: they’re the kind of people you need to
hang out with for a few hours, jumping in their boat to scoff salty
mollusks with oyster stout as Ulrika shares her whip-smart
knowledge on oyster farming and its brilliance in the oceanic
ecosystem. Their ecologically certified oyster farm fiercely
protects and cultivates the Swedish population. In turn, these
native bivalves, Ostrea edulis, support the local waters.
Havstenssunds Ostron is Scandinavia’s only fully sea-based
commercial oyster farm of the native mollusk.

Native oyster tasting along the coast |
Image credit: Havstenssunds Ostron

They also harvest wild oysters, in season, and seaweed. After
our trip across the waves, we sip tea with Ulrika, warming cold
limbs as she whips up oyster soup with seaweed fritters. As she
cooks, she shares her story: she left a long career as an
occupational therapist, as well as her marriage and life in the
city, to get back to nature and tackle some mental health struggles
along this ragged, isolated coast. Stabilised by life closer to the
water, and a new love, she founded the oyster farm and created a
whole new life for herself – a light, inspiring and relaxed
existence.

Wild swimming

Heading inland (ish – this whole area is archipelago, with
waters running through, here, there and everywhere), we strike out
south-west to check into Villa Sjötorp, tucked away on a forested island
edge. It rains lightly, and rainbows keep making brief appearances.
We leave our suitcases in the reception with a smart young man
buttoned up in a crisp white shirt and zoom our rented Volvo back
into the woods in search of a rugged two-hour hiking route he’d
offered loose directions to. Then, we walk, finding a lake among
the pine woods that we can’t resist. We strip and swim as it rains,
marvelling at the colours of the surrounding foliage: green hues
against gentle ambers, with the occasional flash of scarlet. Back
at the hotel, drinking tea, we inspect the gasp-worthy gardens of
the villa. They roll down to battered, upturned rowing boats and
gnarled tree stumps on the oceanfront.

Villa Sjötorp | Image credit: Viggo
Lundberg / Jeska Hearne-Lobster & Swan /
Westsweden.com

Our room at Villa Sjötorp is in turns austere and plush.
Metal-railed single beds offer a decidedly Edwardian ambience,
bolstered by the room’s airy, high ceilings and a historic draft.
Luckily, there are mitigations, in the form of heavy antique
upholstery and toasty radiators. The house feels stately, with a
presence that’s not quite human – a somewhat ghostly vibe. There’s
a charge in the air. Dinners are a dress-up affair, despite the
otherwise relaxed attitude, and we join a melange of glamorous
locals and international visitors filling the candlelit dining
room.

Villa Sjötorp | Image credit: Jeska
Hearne-Lobster & Swan / Westsweden.com

Fish from the Bohuslän coast and produce picked from the fertile
Västergötland forests make for excellent dinner dishes. Back in our
room, a strange chill remains, despite the heating. We soon warm up
tucked into our single bed, watching the shadows creep across the
walls, hearing the building moan and creak as we drift into
slumber. In the morning, it’s back to Gothenburg, with a bucketful
of magical memories of our West Sweden adventures.