Maclayhem

A move to Sweden in 2012 Tatty and her family recently moved from Scotland to Sweden. Half-Swedish and half-English, Tatty grew up in the UK and works as a journalist. This is a journal of her first year in Sweden with her Scottish husband and four young children.

Maclayhem: Thoughts from the Motherland

by Tatty Maclay

Where we used to live in Scotland, the year-round weather report was fairly consistent (‘Rain, cloudy, 11˚C’). This was dreary in the extreme, but didn’t really call for any extreme equipment – just an anorak and some wellies. But when we moved to Sweden and had our first proper winter, the right ‘kit’ suddenly became a matter of urgency.

Those of you who live in places with proper winters, especially those of you with small children, will know what I mean. Welly boots and woolly gloves no longer cut it in double minus figures. Bits can fall off. There will be whining. The kit is all important and sourcing it for a family of six (without going bankrupt) is practically a full-time job.

Snow boots, overalls, thermal long-johns, wool double socks, hats, gloves that stay on, don’t get wet and actually keep little fingers warm – the sourcing, shopping and storage of said items occupies much of my thought and time from November until the snow melts in spring.

It’s all worth it though, when you get a stunningly cold day with bright blue skies and ice crystals floating in the air. Ice forms on your beard (well, not mine) and your breath catches in the cold. You find the ice on the nearest lake is perfect for skating and spend hours silently twirling and racing on a perfectly smooth, natural ice rink with no one else in sight. A million miles away from the indoor rink in Paisley. Here again, though, kit is everything – don’t even think about getting onto the ice without ‘isdubbar’ (ice picks for pulling yourself out of icy water, should the ice crack) round your neck, and a chain saw comes in handy for carving out an ‘isvak’ – a hole in the ice brave souls can dip into after a sauna. I have also learnt that, as with pretty much everything in life, when it comes to outdoor gear, nature knows best. When I was in Finnish Lapland two years ago, I met a Sami reindeer herder who told me that the temperature had recently dropped to -50 (thankfully, it was a relatively snug -20 when we visited). How did they cope in those temperatures? I asked.

Apparently, the reindeer aren’t bothered at all and are quite comfortable outdoors. When it came to going out to feed them, however, the herders’ hi-tech modern snow suits could only take the strain for around half an hour, whereas when they donned their traditional Sami gear (wools, furs and reindeer hide) they were toasty warm for two hours. Nature knows best and – one winter in – Sweden has taught me to take her very seriously indeed.