Mazda3: Under the Midnight Sun

Jetlag is a bitch… As a seasoned traveller, I can usually side step it… But when your body clock cries “enough” resistance is futile.

After 30 hours flying from Australia and just a few hours sleep, my eyes are heavy. I’m struggling to concentrate and I still have 100km or so to drive. My colleague, cameraman Damian Blakemore, has flown all the way from the UK – no more than one-tenth of my ‘air-time’ - and is snoring in the other front seat of our Mazda 3. A big help…

It’s early evening and the sun is still high in the sky, visible, albeit diffused, through high overcast. It looked the same when I woke at 3am. Weird… Take it from me, 24-hour daylight is not ideal for getting on time zone – although it does help with cramming more into each day.

Welcome to the land of the Midnight Sun, specifically, the far north of Sweden.

Why are we here? It seemed like a good idea at the time…

Part Two

Our ‘Car for All Seasons’ series will see us drive a Mazda 3 on four different continents in four different seasons during 2017. Spring saw us take in the stunning Cherry Blossom time of Japan. There are plans, still classified, for Autumn and Winter.

For Summer, I figured there’s no more essential symbol of the season than the Midnight Sun. Sure, the temperatures in the high latitudes might not be anything like Australia’s searing February heat, but permanent daylight tells a story.

As Mazda Australia doesn’t have a dealer at Mawson Base, that meant we were bound for the Arctic Circle. Taking in Sweden’s Midsommar (Mid-Summer) festivities would be a bonus and entirely on-topic. At least that was the plan.

The Swedish festival celebrates the longest day (the Summer Solstice) and has done so for hundreds of years. It has its roots in pagan times and it’s suggested the purpose was to promote a rich harvest. In modern Sweden, however, Midsommar is the country’s time to let its (blonde) hair down. Traditionally, the population decamps from the big cities and heads bush where there is much merriment, feasting and the odd tipple…

It is a special time for the Swedes… In fact, they say it’s bigger than Christmas.

So, the ambient is a balmy 14 degrees now and northern Sweden is bowling club lawn green…. In a few months, it’ll be minus 15 and white will be the new black. The total change in the climate and landscape in just 60 days or so is hard for us Aussies to understand.

But it’s not hard to understand how early civilisations were awed by the explosion of life which Spring and Summer produce up here.

It’s a big thing, then Midsommar…

They say it’s a time when families get together…

They say it’s a time when friends party…

As far as I can see, it’s a time when the whole of Sweden goes into hiding.

The road North
Kalix, near the Finnish border, is our base for Midnight Sun spotting. It’s at around 65ºN, just 100km or so south of the Arctic Circle.

I’m soon reminded that Sweden is one of the longest countries in Europe. From Malmo in the south to Kalix is about the same distance as Melbourne to Brisbane. The run from Stockholm to Kalix is more than 970km.

The distance is no surprise. A few years back, in mid-winter, I raced a Mazda MX-5 on ice and made the rookie call to drive from that event to Geneva. I had two days to do it – all of the first one was burned up just getting out of Sweden.

What is surprising is the quality of the road north and the pace of the traffic. The E4 is a mix of autobahn-style divided road and good single carriageway with plenty of passing lanes. Although the speed limit is 110km/h, many of the Volvos (yes, there’s a shedload of them) are travelling at 130-plus.

The 2.0-litre petrol Mazda3 is no rocketship, but, with the adaptive cruise set at 135, the dash is showing 550km-plus between fills…In addition to Volvos, there are endless motorhomes and cars towing caravans sitting patiently in the right-hand lanes. Sweden is on the move.

Plans to stop on the road for a meal a la ABBA are almost thwarted when we can’t find a roadhouse.

Eventually we learn Sweden is a bit like Canberra. All the servos and restaurants are off the highway and, after the exit ‘teasers’, poorly signposted.

We find a place to stop and eat at around 2.15pm… And are informed the kitchen closed at 2pm.

More learnings. Many Swedish hospitality operators stick to the posted hours. It’s a bit like stepping back in time 15 years to when pub counter meals times were guillotine final.

We finally arrive at Kalix at around 8pm on Thursday. Breakfasts aside, the kitchen’s about to close – until Sunday! Midsommar must be some party! But if we order quickly…

Damian quizzes our host about Midsommar festivities. When and where’s the party, the maypole, the fireworks. She looks perplexed, as if her near-perfect English has failed her.

Oops…

You can’t eat Volvos and American cars
The next morning, Midsommar Friday holiday. Before we head further north to the Arctic Circle proper, we drive around Kalix, population around 11,000.

Tumbleweeds… Crickets…. They’ve all been abducted – the streets aren’t quiet, they’re deserted. And, on the doors of the very limited number of takeaway food places and restaurants, there are ‘CLOSED’ signs.

Midsommar opening hours aren’t. Apparently...

The same goes for the satellite villages we drive through heading north -- except for one…

Driving into Overkalix we spot a large open air car show – with all manner of big 1950, 60, 70 and 80s American classics. There are restos, resto-mods and barn-find runners everywhere. We’re greeted by crowds of people and a Volvo 122 with a tunnel rammed small-block doing a burn out. This must be the party…

But by the time we’ve videoed a couple of segments, half the cars are gone and the people with them. Later the same day we drive past again and Overkalix is the same ghost-town quiet as its big brother…

That night we have to drive to Finland for food…

Circling back
The Arctic Circle itself is celebrated with little fanfare. There’s a sign or two, but no line… as the northern Swedes don’t sign-write their restaurants, they’re not going to give an arbitrary line on a map much attention.

Formally, the Arctic Circle is a line connecting the lowest points on the map from which the midnight sun can be seen on the Solstice – and conversely where no sunrise occurs in winter. In reality, whether the sun is above or below the horizon, it doesn’t get properly dark here from around mid-May through to the end of July.

Scientists will tell you that because the Earth wobbles a little on its axis, the actual Arctic Circle migrates over a very long period. Perhaps that’s why there’s no painted line.

No party and there’s a plane waiting for me in Stockholm, so it’s time to turn around. I’d say goodbye to the kind people of Kalix, but I can’t find any…

The Swedes are certainly on the road though as we head south. They’re coming out of the woods on their way back to work and, at intervals along the 1000km drive southwards, we’re in bumper to bumper traffic seemingly for no reason. On divided sections of road, everyone just sits in the right-hand (slow) lane.

At 60-80km/h we cruise past kilometres of them almost stopped, as if resigned to a 12-hour drive home, and then merge back into the queue five, eight or 10km further along where the road narrows again. Are we breaking a written or unwritten law? Not sure, but nobody honks or gets upset… It’s weird.

The Mazda3’s qualities were front and centre through this drive. Better than 500km range between refuelling – even at high open road speeds. And the right sort of specifications and amenity to make it all-day comfortable.

There’s a reason why Aussies buy this car. It just gets on with the job – even the big ones.

Sweden itself is beautiful. Much of it’s empty – like Australia… And in places it’s stark, but with that comes an inherent depth…

Like its people, wherever they are, I’m sure it takes some time to get to know…