Adult Summer Camp in Sweden: 6 Days in the Wilderness With Strangers, No Signal… It Felt Like a Movie

I thought I was going on a simple hiking trip in Sweden – six days through the Glaskogen Nature Reserve, no hotels, no signal, no plan. Just a group of strangers and six days in the swedish wild. What I didn’t expect? It would feel like stepping into a real-life summer camp movie – just with blisters, backpack chaos, new friends, and a lot more emotional moments than I was ready for.

Because what started as a random decision, to make some new, fun and adventurous memories – escaping every day life and overpriced resorts and predictable holidays – quickly turned into a summer I couldn’t have planned any better, even if I tried.

For six days, I had no real sense of direction.
Most of the time, I couldn’t even tell whether we had passed a place before or not – I simply trusted the experienced guides and followed along. I didn’t know how far we would walk each day.
I didn’t know where we would end up at night. All I knew was what was right in front of me: endless forests, quiet lakes, unforgettable sunsets, and seven people I had never met before – who quietly became part of my everyday life. Before the hiking trip in Sweden, the only thing I knew for certain was that it would be a six-day adventure through the Glaskogen Nature Reserve. Everything else was completely unknown. And honestly? That was the point. Sounds a little crazy, right?

But somewhere deep in the untouched wilderness of Glaskogen, something unexpected happened.

Strangers turned into the kind of people you laugh with until it hurts.
Simple meals tasted better than anything from a five-star hotel, and falling asleep in a hammock under open skies felt more real than anything I’d experienced in years. It became something I hadn’t realized I had been missing for a long time.

At some point, it stopped feeling like a hiking trip. It felt like something straight out of a movie – the kind you wish you could step into for just a little while and somehow, I did.

And the weirdest part? I still can’t stop thinking about it.

So let me take you inside six days hiking in the Swedish wilderness – where nothing was planned, everything was unpredictable,
and a group of strangers somehow became something I didn’t expect at all.

A Journey Into the Unknown

For me, the journey began long before I ever set foot in the Swedish wilderness. At around 3 a.m., my alarm went off – far earlier than I would normally consider reasonable. But on that day, timing was everything. Since I had planned to arrive on the same day the hiking trip began, there was no room for delays. Every connection mattered. I deliberately chose not to stay overnight in Oslo, even though it would have made the journey easier. The reason was simple: hotel prices in Oslo were, quite frankly, unreasonable. One night would have cost more than all of my flights combined – something I simply couldn’t justify. So instead, I committed to the more demanding option: taking the earliest possible flight.

At 5 a.m., I departed for Oslo, knowing that from there I would continue deeper into Scandinavia toward the Glaskogen Nature Reserve in Sweden – our destination for the next six days. The itinerary was tight. From Oslo Airport, I needed to get to Oslo Central Station in time for the train heading toward Sweden. Any delay could have meant missing the connection and, ultimately, the start of the entire trip. Despite the early start and constant low-level tension of staying on schedule, everything worked out. Each connection was made on time. No missed trains, no delays – just a growing sense of anticipation, accompanied by increasing exhaustion. By the time I finally sat down on the train, I was already running on very little sleep.

A First Connection Before the Adventure Even Began

It was on that train that the first unexpected moment of the journey happened. Among the passengers, one person stood out immediately – mainly because of a large backpack that looked unmistakably suited for several days in the wilderness. Without needing to ask directly, there was a quiet assumption: we were likely heading to the same place. A short conversation quickly confirmed it. From that moment, the atmosphere changed slightly. There was an immediate sense of familiarity, as if choosing a trip like this already created a certain connection. Anyone signing up for an experience like this is either comfortable with uncertainty – or willing to embrace it. As it turned out, we were very much in the same situation.

Neither of us knew the exact route we would be hiking.
We didn’t know the daily distances.
We weren’t  even sure whether there would be any mobile signal during the trip.

The only clear piece of information we had was simple:
A taxi organized by Hammock Haven (the company organizing the trip) would be waiting for the group at the train station in Arvika. Everything else remained uncertain.

Arriving at the Edge of Civilization

When the train finally arrived in Arvika, it felt like reaching the edge of everything familiar. A small station, quiet surroundings, and a handful of people gathering – each carrying a backpack that suggested the same plan: to disappear into nature for several days. At that moment, the reality of the situation became clear. This wasn’t  just another trip. It was the beginning of something entirely unpredictable. And standing there – tired from the early start, but fully present – I realized that the real adventure hadn’t  even begun yet.

Entering the Wilderness: First Steps Into Glaskogen

From the station, we were picked up and driven deeper into the Glaskogen Nature Reserve. At some point, it became difficult to say how long the journey actually took – and honestly, no one seemed to care enough to check. We were too distracted. The scenery outside the windows kept changing, becoming more untouched, more raw with every kilometer. At the same time, conversations inside the car were constantly shifting. We were still getting to know each other, exchanging small details, laughing at initial impressions. Time quietly faded into the background.

By the time we arrived, it felt as if the concept of time itself had already started to dissolve. Those first moments, stepping out into the Nature Reserve Glaskogen, felt different from anything before. There was no clear transition – no dramatic “now it begins”- and yet it was exactly that moment where everything started. From there on, time didn’t  move in the usual way anymore.
It passed almost unnoticed, like scenes blending into one another. The entire experience started to feel less like a structured trip and more like something unfolding naturally – like a film that you are not just watching, but living in real time.

The Last Moment of “Normality”

Before we could even take our first steps into the wilderness, we stopped at the information point of Glaskogrn Nature Reserve – our final connection to anything familiar. This was the last place with running water, functioning toilets, sinks – simple things that suddenly felt almost luxurious. Naturally, everyone took full advantage of it. Water bottles were refilled, last adjustments were made, and there was a shared awareness that once we left this place, everything would be different. From there, we walked a short distance to a nearby parking area. That’s where everything truly started.

Meeting the Guides and the Reality Check

At the parking area, the van of our guides, Daniel and Ruben, two brothers who founded Hammock Haven, was waiting for us. From the very first moment, it was clear that everything had been carefully planned and structured on their side. They welcomed us warmly and immediately created a sense of calm and trust. It felt reassuring – especially knowing that while the experience itself would be unpredictable, the logistics behind it were not.

The Story Behind Hammock Haven

Before we even started hiking, there was another story quietly shaping this entire experience – the story of how Hammock Haven came to exist in the first place. Daniel and Ruben didn’t just build a company. They built it out of their own experience.

A few years ago, while traveling in Porto, they were introduced to hammock camping for the very first time. A local – a Puerto Rican they met along the way – recommended they try it. At that point, it was completely new to them. They had no real expectations, no experience… and no idea what they were doing. That first night? It didn’t exactly go as planned.
They nearly froze in their hammocks. And yet – something about it stuck. Despite the cold, despite the discomfort, they were intrigued enough to try it again. And again. And at some point, they brought the idea back home and shared it with their friends.

What happened next was almost immediate. Everyone was hooked. There was something about hammock camping – the simplicity, the connection to nature, the way it changed how you experience being outside – that just felt different. Real. And that’s where the idea started to grow: what if more people could experience this?

They didn’t just want to go on trips themselves anymore – they wanted to create them.

Sweden, especially, turned out to be the perfect place. The forests, the lakes, the untouched landscape – it had everything. But there was one practical challenge: finding enough flat ground for tents, especially for groups, wasn’t always easy. Hammocks solved that problem completely. No need for perfect ground. No need for large open spaces. Just trees – everywhere. And suddenly, everything made sense. Hammock Haven wasn’t just about hiking. It was about experiencing nature differently – lighter, simpler, and somehow closer to everything around you.

And standing there, looking at the van full of gear, it became clear:

This trip wasn’t random. It was something they had built from experience – from trial, error, curiosity… and the decision to share it. Then they opened the van. And suddenly, the scale of the trip became real.

♥ Hammocks.
♥ Underquilts.
♥ Overquilts.
♥ Sleeping systems.
♥ Cooking equipment.
♥ Food supplies for six days.

Everything we would need for the next six days and five nights in the wilderness. And everything… had to fit into our backpacks.

The Packing Mistake I Will Never Make Again

That was the moment reality truly hit. Everyone spread out their gear, trying to reorganize, compress, and somehow make it all fit. Backpacks were repacked multiple times. Items were shifted around, exchanged, redistributed.

And then there was my backpack. At around 40-50 liters, it was by far the smallest in the group. I had chosen it intentionally – I usually travel low-budget and minimal, and I was used to managing with less. And I honestly thought it wouldn’t be a problem. I was wrong. The recommended size was closer to 70 liters (i would order this one next time)- and now it made sense why. I packed as much as I could inside and ended up attaching several items to the outside using carabiners. It wasn’t particularly elegant, but it worked – at least enough to get started. What I didn’t realize at the time was that this wasn’t just inconvenient – it could actually become a safety issue.

As we moved through thick bushes and dense forest, those loose items constantly got caught. I found myself getting stuck more than once, and others in the group had similar problems – sandals snagging on branches, gear getting pulled or tangled unexpectedly. It slowed us down and made already challenging terrain even harder to navigate.

Looking back, clipping everything to the outside of the bag wasn’t the smartest solution. It’s a small detail that can make a big difference. Having a backpack that’s large enough to properly store your gear isn’t just about comfort – it’s about safety, both for yourself and for the group. And in the end, everyone managed. Not perfectly. Not comfortably. But prepared.

To be fully prepared – with the perfect-sized backpack and all the essential gear – my Sweden hiking packing list will help you learn from my mistakes

Six Days, Five Nights – And Something More

Day 1 – Learning the Basics (and Already Being Impressed)

The first day was less about distance and more about understanding how this experience would actually work. Before we could fully arrive in the moment, we had to learn how to create our temporary home for the next six days.

Setting up the hammock camp sounds simple at first – just hang it between two trees – but it quickly became clear that there was much more to it. The distance between the trees mattered, the angle was important, and even small details in how you tied everything together made the difference between a comfortable night and a restless one. Daniel and Ruben had clearly spent a lot of time refining this system. Their approach wasn’t just practical, it was efficient. Everything was designed to reduce weight, which made sense knowing we would carry all of it for the entire hiking trip through Sweden.

Compared to traditional wild camping with tents, it felt surprisingly minimal. No heavy poles, no bulky equipment – just a hammock, a few carefully selected components, and the right technique. And while our backpacks were still far from light, it was impressive to realize how much had been optimized.

The Food Buddy System

The same could be said about the food system, which became one of the most interesting parts of the first day. At the beginning, it almost didn’t feel possible that we were carrying six days’ worth of food in such small packs. But Daniel and Ruben had created a system that made it work – and made it social at the same time.

For most meals, we were paired with a “food buddy.” Each person carried only a part of the meal, so you always had to come together to cook. For example, I carried the couscous while my buddy had the chickpea curry – or as we quickly started calling it, “boon.” The “boon” variations became one of our favourites throughout the entire trip.

What made it so special wasn’t just the food itself, but the way it brought people together. Every meal came with a small moment of curiosity – who is my buddy today, who will I sit with, who do I get to know better now? It turned something as simple as eating into a shared experience. Almost like a small game the guides had built into the trip, and one we all genuinely enjoyed.

The First Camp – Where Everything Started to Come Together

By the time we reached our first camp, right by a quiet lake, things had already started to shift. The atmosphere felt noticeably different from just a few hours earlier. We were still getting used to everything – setting up hammocks, organizing gear – but it didn’t feel awkward anymore. There was already a sense of ease within the group.

One small moment from that afternoon captured this perfectly. One person realised she had forgotten her hammock straps. It could have turned into a problem, especially considering we were already out in nature. But without hesitation, Ruben ran all the way back to the van to get them. It was such a simple action, but it said a lot about the tone of the trip – everyone was looked after, no one was left figuring things out alone. Her night was saved before it even became an issue.

Dinner that evening was the first moment where expectations were quietly exceeded. Considering that everything had been carried in backpacks, the meal felt surprisingly complete and satisfying. Sitting together by the lake, eating something warm after a long day, the group dynamic naturally started to form. Conversations became easier, laughter came more naturally, and it no longer felt like a group of strangers sharing a space.

The first night, however, reminded me that I was still learning. I hadn’t completely figured out how to use the sleeping system properly yet. Instead of insulating myself correctly, I had loosely wrapped the sleeping bag around me, which resulted in a cold and slightly uncomfortable night. It wasn’t dramatic – but it was enough to realise that this trip would be as much about adapting as it was about enjoying. And in a way, that was exactly what made it feel real.

Day 2 – Finding a Rhythm

The second day introduced the first real challenge. With a distance of around 14 to 15 kilometers, it was the longest stage of the entire trip, and we were still adjusting – physically and mentally – to what this experience required.

Despite that, the overall energy remained surprisingly positive. There was a sense of motivation within the group, almost as if everyone was curious to see how far they could go. As we moved deeper into the forest, the surroundings became more immersive. There were no external distractions – just the sound of footsteps, quiet conversations, and nature itself. What slowly began to shift on this day was the rhythm. Walking, resting, eating, setting up camp – it all started to feel more natural, less forced. The uncertainty that had been present at the beginning was still there, but it no longer felt uncomfortable.

By the time we reached the second campsite, the atmosphere had changed noticeably. This location was more enclosed, surrounded by trees in a way that made the space feel almost protected. One small detail stood out: someone in the group decorated the camp with fairy lights, creating a soft glow between the hammocks. It was a simple addition, but it completely changed the feeling of the place. Sitting there in the evening, you could almost forget how remote everything was. It felt calm, familiar, and unexpectedly comfortable. For the first time, it didn’t feel like we were adapting to the environment anymore – it felt like we were part of it.

Day 3 – When It Starts to Hurt

By the third day, the experience shifted again – this time physically. The initial excitement was still there, but it now shared space with fatigue. The distance was shorter, around eight kilometers, but the effects of the previous days started to become noticeable.

Blisters began to appear. Walking wasn’t effortless anymore. Every step required a bit more awareness. And yet, this was also the day where some of the most memorable moments happened. It started in the morning with pancakes – an unexpected highlight. In the middle of the forest, under these conditions, even simple food became something special. It boosted the mood immediately and gave the entire group a sense of energy that carried us through the day. As the hike continued, the atmosphere remained light. Challenges were present, but they didn’t create tension – instead, they became part of the shared experience. People helped each other, joked about their situation, and kept moving forward together.

At camp, that energy turned creative.

One person improvised a two-level hammock setup – a kind of “bunk bed” in the forest. It wasn’t particularly practical, but it reflected something important: people had started to feel comfortable enough not only to experiment and have fun, but also to shape the space around them. That same mindset led to another solution – this time a more practical one. By that point, we already knew who the snorers were. On the previous nights, they had been placed a bit further away from the main group, but this time we created something more defined: their own separate area on a connecting island, which we jokingly named “Snorer Island.”

Even though they were positioned at a distance, it didn’t fully solve the problem. During the night, the wind shifted in their direction, and somehow the sound still carried. I could still hear them – but to be fair, it wasn’t nearly as bad as expected. By then, we were so tired from the day and had grown more comfortable in our hammocks that most of us fell asleep almost immediately. Most of the time, you were simply too exhausted to even notice the snoring.

The discomfort was real – but so was the connection.

Day 4 – The Peak of the Experience

Day four was, in many ways, the turning point.

The day itself felt like a mix of progress and constant interruption. At times, the hike turned into a stop-and-go rhythm, especially as we pushed through what felt like never-ending bushes. Branches kept catching onto everything – especially our shoelaces. We had to stop over and over again, easily more than 20 times in total, because someone’s hiking boots had come undone once again. It got so frequent that we even gave it a name: STS – “Shoe Tie Stop.” It became a running joke, a shared pattern that somehow made the constant interruptions part of the experience rather than a frustration.

Physically, things still became easier as backpacks grew lighter. Mentally, everything felt more natural. The routines were established, the group dynamic had settled, and there was a growing sense of ease in simply being there.The landscape also became more varied. The dense forests opened into drier, more open areas before leading back toward lakes and rocky terrain. This constant change kept the experience visually engaging, with each new section offering something different.

One moment stood out above the rest – a brief encounter with a moose.

It was only visible for a second before disappearing back into the forest, but that made it even more special. No photos, no time to react – just a moment that existed and was gone again. What made it even more unforgettable was that even our guides, despite having explored the nature reserve for months, had never seen a moose before. That realization turned it into something shared and rare – something that instantly connected all of us.After that, we came up with a simple hand signal. If anyone spotted another moose, we would alert the group silently, careful not to scare it away. It was a small but meaningful detail – it showed how much we had adapted, not just to the environment, but to each other.

That evening, we reached a campsite by a rocky lakeside. The setting felt almost unreal, especially as the sun began to set. The sky reflected perfectly across the still water, creating a quiet, almost cinematic atmosphere. And then, in the middle of it all, one moment broke the stillness in the best possible way. One of the girls in the group decided to jump from a stone into the lake. It was freezing cold, mosquitoes were everywhere, and yet she did it anyway. It was bold, slightly chaotic, and completely unforgettable – a moment that captured the spirit of the whole trip.There was no need to speak much. Everyone simply took it in.

It was one of those moments where everything aligns without effort.

Day 5 – Realizing What It Meant

By the fifth day, something had changed completely.

The group no longer felt like individuals who had met by chance. There was a shared rhythm, shared humour, and a sense of familiarity that had developed naturally over the days. Small moments carried more weight than expected. Sitting together, preparing food, or even laughing over something minor felt meaningful in a way that is hard to replicate outside of this kind of environment. Even something as simple as everyone calling out a warm, tired “good night” after a long day felt special – like a small ritual that marked the end of each shared experience.

By now, the absence of phones and constant input had created a noticeable clarity. Conversations were more present. Interactions lasted longer. There was no interruption, no need to check anything else. Waking up in nature also began to feel different. There was a certain quality to it – clearer, calmer, more real. For some, the sleep was even better than at home in their own beds. The hammocks, which had felt unusual at first, became part of that experience. Slowly, they turned into something familiar, almost comfortable in their own way.

The whole experience of sleeping in a hammock, surrounded by nature, became something unique

Something that felt both simple and rare. Not necessarily more comfortable in the traditional sense, but different in a way that made it memorable. A kind of feeling that is hard to recreate in everyday life, and for many, something close to a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

At the same time, there was an unspoken awareness that this would soon come to an end. The final evening carried a slightly different tone – not sad, but more reflective. People stayed up a little longer, conversations went deeper, and there was a quiet understanding of what had been created over those days. Not something dramatic – but something real. And that, in the end, felt more valuable than anything else.

Day 6 – Stepping Back Into a Different World

The final day didn’t feel like the others.

This time, the morning came earlier than usual. A few people in the group had to catch trains back to Oslo and make it to the airport on time, which meant we couldn’t follow the rhythm we had grown used to. Instead of waking up with the sun – or simply whenever our bodies felt ready – we had alarms set and a quiet urgency in the air. It felt strange. After days of slow, natural mornings, this sudden structure was a reminder that we were already stepping back into everyday life.

Packing up that morning felt different. Movements were quieter, more automatic, almost as if everyone was already partly back in another reality. The hike itself was shorter, more of a transition than a challenge. With every step, the forest slowly gave way to signs of civilization again. Paths became clearer, the surroundings less wild, more structured.

And with that, something shifted internally as well. Over the past five days, a rhythm had formed – simple, natural, almost effortless. Wake up, walk, eat, talk, sleep. No distractions, no urgency, no constant input. Just being present. And now, that rhythm was ending.

When we finally reached the point where everything had started, it felt strangely unfamiliar. The same place – but not the same feeling anymore. There were no big speeches. No dramatic goodbye. Just a quiet understanding between everyone. Because somehow, in six days, something real had formed. And that’s what made leaving difficult.

Not the hiking.
Not the discomfort.

But stepping away from a moment that felt so simple – and so complete.

Living the Experience – What This Was Really About

Looking back, this experience wasn’t really about hiking. It was about reconnecting with nature – truly being present in the here and now, without distractions, without constantly thinking ahead or checking the time. But even more than that, it was about simplifying life. Because out there, you realise very quickly that you don’t need a big house, a luxury villa, or anything extravagant – especially not to enjoy a place as beautiful as Sweden. Sometimes, all it takes is a hammock, two trees, and the right people around you. And somehow, that’s more than enough. It makes you appreciate the small things again – the silence of the forest, a warm meal after a long day, a shared laugh, or simply sitting together without needing anything else.

From Strangers to Something Else

At the beginning, we were just seven individuals.
Different lives. Different backgrounds.

But the combination of shared challenges, constant proximity, and complete disconnection from the outside world changed that quickly. Strangers turned into the kind of people you laugh with until it hurts.
Without realizing it, they became part of my everyday life.

It was also about being open – open to completely new people, new conversations, and new connections. Because as an adult, it often feels harder to enter new environments and meet new people. Most of us already have our established circles, friendships built over years, so building something new doesn’t always come naturally anymore. But this experience felt different. It reminded me of backpacking, where everyone is, in some way, starting from zero. Most people arrive alone, or without knowing anyone, so connecting isn’t something you overthink – it just happens. And here, it happened just as naturally.

There was never really a moment where I doubted that we would get along.
We simply did. And that, more than anything, surprised me. Because those kinds of connections are rare.

The Moments That Stay

Some moments stand out more than others.

A sunset reflected perfectly on a lake.
A quiet evening in the forest.
Unexpected laughter over nothing.

But it was also the smaller, almost random moments that stayed.

♥ Stopping for the tenth time in a row because someone called out “STS” – shoe tie stop – again, laughing because a simple thing like tying laces had become a shared group ritual.

♥ Pushing through endless bushes, getting caught on branches, helping each other get unstuck, realizing that even the frustrating parts would later become the stories you remember most.

♥ Waking up slowly in a hammock, surrounded by nothing but trees, no alarms, no noise – just light filtering through the forest. Feeling more rested than expected, sometimes even more than at home.

♥ Hearing a quiet “good night” echo through the trees after a long day, knowing everyone around you had shared the same experience, the same exhaustion, the same satisfaction.

♥ The pancakes in the middle of nowhere, tasting better than they had any right to, simply because of where you were and who you were with.

♥ The quick, almost unreal moment of seeing a moose – gone before you could fully process it. And the realization that even the guides had never seen one before, turning it into something rare and shared.

♥ “Snorer Island,” set up half-jokingly, half-seriously – trying to solve a problem, but ending up creating another shared memory instead. And even then, being too tired to really care.

♥ And that one moment at the lake: the still water, the sunset, and someone deciding to jump in despite the cold and the mosquitoes. Not because it made sense – but because it felt right.

And that’s what stayed.

Not the distance.
Not the difficulty.

But these moments – unexpected, unplanned, and real – that slowly became everything.

The Part I Didn’t Expect

What I also didn’t expect was how hard it would be to leave. Going back into the city after those six days felt almost overwhelming. The noise, the speed, the constant movement—it all came back at once. And suddenly, everything we had just experienced started replaying in my head.

The quiet mornings.
The long walks.
The laughter.
The sunsets.

And most of all – the people. I realised, in that moment, how much I already missed it.

The nature.
The simplicity.
The feeling of being completely present.

And strangely enough, I felt incredibly emotional. Because who knows if you ever get to experience something like that again? Especially with the same group – those seven strangers who, somehow, didn’t feel like strangers anymore. But at the same time, it didn’t feel like an ending. It felt more like a beginning.

Because once you’ve experienced something like that – traveling slowly, moving through nature, disconnecting from everything else – it makes you want more. More moments like this. More journeys that aren’t about rushing from one place to another, but about actually being there. And maybe that’s what I took with me the most: a new perspective. The idea of continuing with more slow travel adventures across Europe. Exploring places not just to see them, but to experience them. Walking, discovering, meeting new people along the way – again and again.

Not the same trip.
Not the same people.

But the same feeling.

What Stayed With Me

More than anything, it left me feeling grateful.

Grateful that I chose the harder option.
Even more grateful that I said yes to something uncertain.
Grateful that I got to be part of that exact group, at that exact time, in that exact place.

Because not every experience leaves a mark like Hammock Haven with Daniel & Ruben. But this one did. And I know it’s something I’ll carry with me for a long time.

♥ More ideas, what to do in Sweden:

• Things to See and Do in Stockholm: An Insider’s Guide to the City
• Where to Find the Best Cinnamon Bun in Stockholm: How to do fika like a local
• The best hotels in Stockholm Sweden: Five-Star, Boutique & Iconic Luxury Hotels
• The best museums in Stockholm: a guide to the museum island of Djurgården
• Djurgårdsbrunn Cafe: the best cafe in Stockholm
• Stockholm Royal Palace: A Guide to Sweden’s Grandest Residence