Swedish Safari

With its shimmering freshwater lakes, verdant forests and abundant wildlife, Dalsland is the perfect - if unexpected - setting for a wild adventure

Featured June 11 Words by Steven Vickers
Swedish Safari

We'd been huddled silently by the water for more than half an hour when the first text message arrived. Birdsong was reasonating noisily through the forest but I could still hear the phone as it buzzed its way towards me across a thick reindeer-skin blanket. The air was starting to feel icy.

But maybe, at last, someone had spotted something moving in the inky-black water. I moved as slowly as possible, dry branches cracking with my shifting weight, and brought up the message: "Two animals on their way down to you."

The good news was from Pontus, a Swedish hunter and tour guide, camped out 100m or so upstream. Earlier that day, before the sun had started to sink below the trees, he'd led us through the same stretch of waterfront forest, located deep in the province of Dalsland, an area some two hours' drive from Gothenburg. The aim was to find signs of animal activity so we'd know where to position ourselves at dusk, when our prey would be at their most active. This was perfect territory - pristine woodland near pristine water - and after just a minute or two of pushing through the thick undergrowth, Pontus had stopped in his tracks. "Can you smell that?" he had said in a hushed voice, sniffing the air. "You can smell that they have been here." And you really could. An odd whiff, somewhere between sawdust and the smell of wet dog, hovered faintly in the air. With shafts of golden light warming the forest floor, we started to follow our noses in search of a suitable vantage point.

And this is where you find us now - sitting in silence. Anyone who has been on safari will recognise this feeling: the intense sense of anticipation as you wait for a fleeting glimpse of a wild animal at home in its natural habitat.

But this is no ordinary wildlife expedition. While many tourists go in search of big cats on game reserves or traverse the African plains for herds of wildebeest, we're hoping to see an altogether different creature. In fact, we're lying here in wait for a beaver.

And Dalsland is, evidently, home to some very busy beavers, judging by the destruction all around. Later, we'll be camping out in a fire-heated tipi with reindeer skins on the floor, but for now it's cold and wet. Great big chunks have been nibbled out of some of the birch trees, causing them to overbalance and crash down into the water. Others, with trunks too wide for the little creatures to munch all of the way through, are surrounded by ankle-deep piles of fresh yellow wood chippings. Even the grass has been affected, flattened by logs that the beavers have hauled down into the water.

Sights like this could once be seen on riverbanks across Europe, but overhunting pushed beavers to the brink of extinction. In Sweden, the entire wild population was wiped out by the end of the 1870s. Then, in the early 20th century, in one of the first attempts at reintroducing a species to its original environment, 80-odd beavers were shipped across the border from neighbouring Norway. They built dams and lodges, and started to reproduce. Now, it's thought there are around 150,000 wild beavers living in Sweden - enough that hunting is even allowed again, albeit with very strict rules. That doesn't mean beavers are easy to spot, however. They're shy, especially around humans, and they've developed a special technique for warning other beavers when they spot something that could be a threat to their families. They rear up out of the water, thwacking the surface with their paddle-shaped tails and sending shockwaves through the river. Even here in Dalsland, where the population is healthy, Pontus said our chances of seeing one were "about 50-50".

But that didn't mean we weren't going to try. Once we had found a spot where there was real evidence of beaver action, we came up with a plan. Jon, our photographer, would take up one position. Pontus would take another. My girlfriend and I would sit together somewhere between the two. We made places we could sit still in and memorised clear routes back to them through the forest. Even the sound of pushing through bracken could be enough to scare away a beaver, so the routes had to be within easy reach.

Summer days are long in this part of Sweden, so before taking our positions we had been able to discover some of Dalsland's other wildlife. As part of the trip, we'd been kayaking in the river earlier on and had already caught a glimpse of an amber-coloured roe deer on a 15km bike ride that wound its way past rural farmsteads and lakes as blue as the Swedish flag. But to spot signs of anything bigger, we'd need a different mode of transport. What I didn't expect was to get a horse all to myself.

I'd never ridden before and it felt awkward in the saddle, especially after my horse - the aptly named Diva - refused even to let me stroke her before getting on. But how hard could it be to trot around a paddock? I hopped up, pushed my boots into the stirrups and nervously asked questions about what to do if Diva decided to bolt. She wouldn't, I was assured. And with those comforting words ringing in my head, we left the stables behind. Turning sharply up a muddy track, I quickly realised that this was to be no ordinary beginners' class. Pontus led the way, giving instructions on how to handle our horses on steep slopes, and we were soon riding clumsily into a sun-dappled forest filled with the sweet smell of trampled pine needles. One by one, we clambered up a long section of steep, moss-covered rocks, and at the top I stopped to glance over my right shoulder. There, stretching out far below us was an immaculate freshwater lake lit by deep shades of orange and blue. As we continued gingerly over a high ridge, the ground was peppered by droppings - and not from horses. "It's the elks," Pontus shouted behind him. "They come up here to eat the pine when everything else freezes." Right at that moment, his horse stopped and looked down. Fur was scattered all over the rocks. It was all that was left of a roe deer, just like the one we passed earlier. It was probably taken by a lynx, a native wildcat with ears as pointy as the mountaintops we were cantering between. For those who might think that a safari expedition in the woodlands of Sweden is less visceral an experience than its equivalent in the southern hemisphere, this sight was proof otherwise. Nature, it's clear, is red in tooth and claw, whatever the map co-ordinates.

But we were here in Dalsland for one specific member of the animal kingdom, and it was starting to get dark. After the first text message from Pontus, we waited 30 minutes but there was no sign of the pair of beavers he'd spotted downstream. Now the birdsong was being replaced by the sound of bats circling overhead and my eyes were starting to lose focus in the half-light, when a second message came. The news was not good. "I'm giving up," it read. "Too dark for pictures."

And that was it. Reluctantly, we packed up too, and dragged our reindeer skins back out through the forest to find out what Pontus had seen. The two beavers he'd spied had caught him getting his camera out of his bag, then bolted into the water and downstream towards us. Beavers can stay under the water for up to 15 minutes, which was more than enough time to swim past, right under our noses, and that's precisely what they must have done.

It's a defence mechanism that has been vital to the survival of these creatures as their numbers have dwindled across Europe. But it means that, for today at least, we would not have the pleasure of seeing this particular toothy rodent in the wild. Hopefully, next time we'll be more lucky, but for this night at least, it's off to our tipi to rest our aching muscles�

Beaver safaris run annually from June to August. A typical itinerary includes horse riding, cycling, kayaking and beaver-spotting. Accommodation is provided at the edge of a freshwater lake

For more information please visit www.westsweden.com or contact Dalsland Activities
direct: Email: info@dalslandsaktiviteter.se or visit: http://www.dalslandsaktiviteter.se