It started, as most of our adventures do, with a map sprawled across the table, coffee stains marking what might become our next great story. Scandinavia’s mainland had been calling us for years, From the rugged coastlines of Norway to Sweden’s deep pine-scented wilderness and Denmark’s quiet charm. Our plan was always simple: No plan at all. Just follow the road, the weather, and our curiosity.
This chapter begins in Hirtshals, Denmark’s northern ferry hub as well as our landing port after Iceland. Although the town itself is simple, more practical than pretty, the excitement of getting back to civilisation after the raw isolation of Iceland was overwhelming. Disembarking among other campers and trucks, we felt that familiar buzz of “re-entering the world we know.” Laundry and supply restocks were all we needed to tick off in Hirtshals before hitting the road again. Our goal? To reach another Danish ferry port further south, where one more boat would take us across to Sweden.
Our first stop was Halmstad, where we spent a couple of days soaking in coastal life. The city’s beaches stretched wide along the canals, families pedalled past on bikes, and a gentle feeling of “slow living” filled our days. We set up camp by a marina , our new favourite type of overnight stop ,letting the salty breeze be our first real taste of Sweden.
But soon, the road was calling again. We pointed our compass east toward Kalmar, home to a fairytale castle that sits proudly by the water. The town’s cobblestone streets and pastel houses made us feel like we’d stepped back into medieval times. We wandered through the old town, trying to imagine what Swedish life might have been like centuries ago. As the castle walls glowed in the golden evening light, we started scouting for a camper stop , “the perfect overnight backdrop”, or so we thought.
Unfortunately, perfection isn’t always available in the overlanding world. All four camper stops were full, and with free urban camping forbidden in Sweden, we had no choice but to move to the city’s outskirts. Instead of a romantic castle view, we ended up in a dusty parking area beneath a highway bridge, complete with traffic noise. Not all nights are Instagram-perfect — and that’s okay.
From there, we continued north along Sweden’s east coast until we reached Västervik, a charming town scattered across little islands. Fishing boats bobbed in the harbour, narrow streets wound through old houses, and the whole place carried a maritime, nostalgic vibe. Then came Trosa, a tiny town that truly lived up to its charm. Wooden houses painted in pastel shades, flower boxes overflowing, and a gentle river flowing through the centre — it felt like stepping inside a postcard. We lingered here longer than expected, caught up in the rhythm of small-town life.
Eventually, it was time to hit the capital. Rolling into Stockholm felt like entering another world: islands stitched together by bridges, boats gliding past colourful facades, and a hum of life that contrasted sharply with the quiet towns behind us. Normally, I find city tours a bit dull, but our Viking walking tour turned out to be a highlight — a perfect mix of storytelling, history, and humour.
As for our night in Stockholm? Not planned, but we lucked out , an unbelievably central urban camper parking lot right in the heart of the city. I mean, the only more central spot would’ve been the Royal Palace itself… but those royals can be a little snobby about overnight guests.
After a quick visit to the ABBA Museum, we spent most of the next day wandering through Gamla Stan’s narrow lanes, sipping overpriced (but worth it) coffee, and soaking up the Scandinavian capital’s cool mix of history, design, and effortless style. With our visit to the capital, our time in Sweden had come to an end — and though we’d only explored the south, we both agreed it was worth every minute.
Crossing into Norway was almost anticlimactic, a smooth drive through a barely noticeable border. Suddenly, we were in Oslo, greeted by wide boulevards, striking modern architecture, and parks that made the city feel open and breathable. It’s a capital that’s easy to love , big enough to keep you busy, yet small enough not to overwhelm. Fun fact: our two days in Oslo were the only completely sunny ones we got in all of Norway!Rochelle actually had her first swim of the trip … in the lake !
After two major cities in a row, it was time to leave urban life behind and head west. Notodden and Morgedal introduced us to rural Norway — lush green valleys, wooden cabins, and that feeling that time slows down once you leave the main roads. Morgedal, the birthplace of skiing, added a touch of history to our route, while Notodden felt like stepping into a chapter of Norway’s industrial past.
Hidden among Notodden’s quiet streets, we discovered a true gem — the town’s wooden church. With its steep dark timbers and delicately carved details, it feels centuries old yet somehow still alive. Inside, the scent of aged wood and the echo of footsteps remind you that these places weren’t just built to last , they were built to inspire awe.
Further down the road, deep in the Telemark region, we stumbled upon one of Norway’s best-kept secrets: Hamaren Aktivitetspark in Fyresdal. Picture a treetop walkway spiralling gently above the forest, leading to a wooden platform with jaw-dropping views over Lake Fyresvatn. It’s where locals stroll, kids run wild, and travellers like us stop every two minutes for “just one more picture.” And believe it or not — the park’s toilet is the main attraction! The famous Toalett Hamaren, with its bold architecture and cheeky glass wall, might just be the most scenic bathroom in the world. Only in Norway!
Then came Lysevegen — an overlander’s dream… or nightmare, depending on how much you enjoy hairpin bends. The road winds dramatically through the mountains of Telemark, with switchbacks carved into cliffs and panoramic views over deep valleys, rushing rivers, and dense forests. Every turn begged for a photo. The descent into Lysefjord, followed by the ferry to Forsand, left us speechless. Standing beneath towering cliffs, we finally understood why Norway is called the land of fjords.
Next came our “waterfall run.” Svandalsfossen appeared first, tumbling loudly over the rocks. Then came Langfoss, one of Norway’s greats — a powerful, untamed cascade pouring directly into the fjord. Standing close enough to feel the mist, we couldn’t stop grinning. Nature was showing off. Hollundfossen followed, before we arrived in Rosendal, a peaceful village with a castle and rose gardens that felt like a gentle pause between wild landscapes.
By evening, we rolled into Haugesund, a lively coastal town where we traded waterfalls and mountains for bars, restaurants, and a touch of nightlife. And then — rain. Of course. But Bergen wears rain like a badge of honour. Its colourful wooden houses glowed against the grey sky, and the smell of fresh fish from the harbour had us sampling everything in sight. Tourist-filled? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely.
Our final stretch led us into Gudvangen, tucked deep within the Nærøyfjord. The drive felt surreal , sheer cliffs rising straight from the water, waterfalls tumbling down like silver threads. We parked our car, stared at the Viking-style village, and let it all sink in. This was the Scandinavia we had dreamed of: raw, dramatic, unforgettable.
But the story didn’t end there.
Since entering Sweden, a quiet idea had been growing , one that would soon change everything about our overlanding life. After ten years with our trusty Land Cruiser Voukefalas, conversations had begun about a possible change. Don’t get me wrong — Voukefalas is still the ultimate expedition vehicle. But living full-time on the road demands a bit more space than even the most loyal 4×4 can offer.
We started looking into alternatives: something still capable off-road, but with a more liveable space inside. Eventually, all roads led to one choice — a Mercedes Sprinter 4×4. Not one of those tall, Instagram-perfect vans that look like tiny houses, but something minimal, rugged, and practical.
When we first looked, prices were sky-high — over €100,000 — a completely unrealistic number for us. Besides, having that much money tied up in a vehicle didn’t make sense for the kind of remote travel we do. But one rainy Norwegian day, stuck inside Voukefalas waiting for the storm to pass, I stumbled upon something online that changed everything.
In Germany, there was a Sprinter 4×4 camper for sale at half the price we expected, already converted, with a camper licence that made importing to Greece possible. After a few long calls and endless discussions with Rochelle, the decision was made. We’d cut the trip short, turn around, and head to Germany to see it for ourselves.
To cut the long story short, three weeks later, we left Germany with two vehicles and our destination set: Greece. Shocked? Absolutely. Excited? Beyond words. It was a game changer , a new beginning without a doubt.
Fast forward to now: we’re back in Greece, with our new camper registered and ready to roll. A new chapter is about to begin and the excitement is real.
The End (for now)!!! After twelve weeks, four countries, countless ferries, and endless “wow” moments, our Scandinavia Expedition was complete. But it gave us more than just landscapes, it gave us stories, experiences, and a deeper love for life on the road. This wasn’t a trip about destinations; it was about moments , castles, fjords, waterfalls, and tiny towns that stole our hearts. “Fjords, Forests, and the Road Less Travelled” has officially placed Scandinavia high on our dream-overlanding list and we already know… we’ll be back.
