So Geir wanted to cross a river, either this evening or tomorrow morning. A river with no bridge or ford. I took the opportunity to check the map and found that this was no stream or brook, but a wide river with a rocky drop a few kilometres further down.
I'm glad to say I talked him out of it.
His reasoning was that crossing the river would save us a few kilometres. My reasoning was that it didn't matter what we saved if it took us hours to do it. Also we could die.
So now we're going to go follow the main road up a bit, find a quiet spot in the forest and sleep for four hours, before we continue on our trip, the slightly longer but infinitely more sensible way.
I don't have any pictures to go with this new development, so I've included a picture of a mailbox in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest town. Swedes are strange. Also they're very fond of flea markets.
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