The Camino Too Hot? Try a 'Coolcation' on Sweden's Lesser Known UNESCO Trail

Looking at the horizon, I quickly count how many hills separate the lake I’ve just taken a dip in from the mountain farmstead cabin I should reach by noon. Squelching my way through dewy cranberry bogs, and tying my boots against mossy boulders, I take my time wandering under the forest canopy.

Not only are my surroundings a much-needed cool respite from the heatwaves sweeping up the rest of Europe, they are also a window into the region’s past: I’m walking the same paths that generations before me have trod, devoted to a tradition that shaped modern Scandinavia.

In Sweden and Norway, summer farming is more than an ancient tradition, it’s a way of reconnecting with nature’s rhythms. So much so that the farmsteads, known as fäbodar, central to the practice have recently been granted UNESCO Cultural Heritage status. 

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In Sweden’s central region of Dalarna, often called “Sweden in miniature”, the fäbodleden walking route brings travelers up close to this millennia-old practice and the people who continue it today.

The full route covers about 120 miles of fragrant woodlands, clear lakes, and wildberry meadows. And yet, despite the UNESCO inscription in 2024, I find I’ve been the only person walking the route in weeks.

Starting on Sollerön, the largest island on Lake Siljan, my plan is to cover 40 miles of the fäbodleden alongside a local wilderness guide. Over the course of a weekend, I’ll follow the steps of the farmers who would embark on it every spring, walking the woodland trails up to the elevated summer farms in Gesunda and Fryksås.

I meet Daniel Nilsson in front of Sollerön’s church, which is one of the trailheads of the fäbodleden, and the site of a small open-air museum explaining the nuts and bolts of this ancient practice. His back to the church, Nilsson is inspecting a discolored map, where he traces with his finger the route we are tackling today.

“This is my ancestors’ cabin,” he says, enthusiastically tapping a spot surrounded by small elevation ridges. “I still keep our fäbod active, after it’s been passed down for centuries. People visit in summer to make cheese and butter, milk the cows, and enjoy some time away from the chaos of everyday life.”

While I may be the only soul today, up until the mid-20th century, hundreds of families in the region would leave their homes on Sollerön island in spring to walk tens of miles to reach their summer farmsteads up in the mountains. But they weren’t alone: dozens of cows and sheep would follow them.

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In fact, the purpose of this relocation was to let the animals graze freely in the pastures, which were more abundant, while farmers could focus on making cheese, butter, and cured products to see them through the winter. Those supplies fed entire villages during the cold months, and effectively spurred population growth.

We cross the island’s bridge and follow a tree-shaded trail that leads us right into the forest, where toothpick-shaped trees and berry bushes abound. This is a hiker’s paradise in summer, where temperatures are mild and the sun reverberates through the canopy.

The air gets cooler as we approach our first milestone, Gesunda, a mountain rising more than 1,500 feet above sea level. Alongside Nilsson, I navigate thickets of bilberry bushes, and squelch my way through cranberry bogs, fragrant with morning dew.

From the top of the mountain, you can see Lake Siljan, whose undulating shape was carved by a meteorite falling 377 million years ago. But Gesunda isn’t just a splendid viewpoint over this corner of Sweden, it’s also home to one of Sweden’s oldest summer farmsteads.

 The first fäbodleden route to open was a bicycle trail running through Dalarna’s small municipality of Gagnef in 2020. Following UNESCO’s recognition, the hiking route received a new lease of life, with new signage and informational material en route being installed in 2026. Today, people hike or cycle through the region mostly for its mesmerizing nature, from open meadows to old growth forests.

Nilsson says it’s much more than a hiking or biking trail. “It’s a testament to a time when humans followed nature’s rhythms in order to survive.”

Part of that relocation had to do with building simple wooden chalets – sturdy enough to brave the elements, but easy enough to disassemble if needed. The chalets with their distinctive moss-covered roofs form the fulcrum of activity that involves not just an understanding of the seasons, but knowledge of craftsmanship and animal husbandry. One part of that unique heritage is kulning, a long melodic call women would perform to summon their cows back to the farm for the night.

On our second day, we leave the peaceful lakeside behind and hike 20 miles to the Alpine wonderland of Orsa and Fryksås– a stretch of evergreen, cool forest. 

From the top of Fryksås, Nilsson shows me a patch of emerald land: Södra Flenarnas fäbod. Its former owner Anna Håll kept it running into her 90s, when she would still walk her cows and goats from Sollerön to her mountain pasture. While Anna passed, her traditions live on, and every summer the fäbod opens its doors to offer a glimpse into the slowly dying practice. Södra Flenarnas is one of the surviving 44 mountain pastures in Dalarna that’s been in use the longest. At the height of the phenomenon, Nilsson explains, there were as many as 30,000 fäboder across Sweden.

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As a reward for the long hours spent walking, we sit down to enjoy a fika – the Swedish tradition of a coffee break accompanied by a small bite to eat. Nilsson’s tours include a picnic of fresh cheese, butter, and bread made at the fäbods that are still operating in the area, and who have made it their mission to share the practice with travelers.

One such place is Smidgården. The family at the helm kept a farmstead in the region until the 1960s. Wanting to keep the tradition of their ancestors alive, in the early 2000s they transformed Smidgården so guests could experience a fäbod-style stay in a wooden chalet overlooking the glittering lake.

Sitting down to share the afternoon fika with us, Liselott Länsmans helps me understand the untold stories of the women behind the fäbodleden. Their tales are preserved in the photographs of them holding baskets, milking cows, and fixing fences. Their smiles are hardened, their expressions sturdy and stoic.

“Young women would be the ones doing the hard work on the farms,” Liselott says. “It takes endurance to churn the butter, milk the cows, boil the whey, and so on.”

She explains how, historically, women would often travel alone to the fäboder. It’s only in the last 50 years that entire families started relocating, recognizing the importance of not letting the practice fade, and wanting to be at the forefront of efforts to keep it alive. Tourism is hoped to be a big part of that, with the fäbodleden route receiving a new lease of life.

As the sun sets on Fryksås, its gentle elevation allows us to see the valley unrolling underneath our feet, Siljan Lake glimmering in the distance. Small wooden chalets covered in moss share space with more modern red roofs – the two coexisting up in Dalarna’s mountain pastures.

How to do it

Wooden chalets at Smidgården (Fryksås) start at $190, overlooking Lake Orsa.

Day tours with expert guide Daniel Nilsson start from $225 and include foraging and open fire cooking, alongside a visit to Södra Flenarna fäbod (summer only).

Editor’s note: This story was supported by Visit Dalarna and Visit Sweden.