Lagom is an idea rooted in balance. Roughly meaning “not too little, not too much, just the right amount,” it influences all aspects of Swedish culture and daily life, and is as quintessential as fika, ABBA, and smörgåstårta sandwich cake. The concept has played a crucial role in shaping Swedish culture—from how Swedes avoid burnout by embracing work-life balance to how they decorate their homes and embrace nature. In essence, it’s about finding contentment in moderation, avoiding extremes, and finding happiness in the middle ground—“an ethos that tries to reduce stress within your own control,” explains Lola Åkerström, an award-winning travel photographer and author of Lagom: Swedish Secret of Living Well.
Naturally, this plays into the culture’s embrace of slow travel, too. But as slow travel has become part of the global travel vernacular, its emphasis on slowing down and connecting with nature in off-the-beaten-path destinations isn’t always easy to apply. Switching from one extreme to another—such as transitioning from a packed itinerary of activities, meals, and sightseeing to a more reflective pace—can be challenging.
Building new habits calls for a gentle and balanced approach. So, when Sweden recently launched the Stockholm Archipelago Trail, a hiking route encompassing 20 islands and 170 miles of rugged landscapes easily accessible by public ferry from Stockholm, I decided to put lagom into practice.
The sky was heavy with thick clouds as I boarded Grönkvist’s 50-foot yacht in Vaxholm, an island just 30 minutes from Stockholm and the gateway to the archipelago. As we sailed further east past hilly islands and rocky skerries to Sandhamn, the landscapes became flatter, wilder, and more rugged. Until the 19th century, the islands that now comprise the Stockholm Archipelago were predominantly inhabited by fishermen and served as military fortifications to protect the capital. However, Stockholmites—especially those in the creative community—eventually began venturing to the islands in search of tranquility and a deeper connection to nature. Many built summer homes that have been passed down from generation to generation.
At the turn of the 19th century, the Royal Swedish Yacht Club, one of the oldest in the world, established a clubhouse in Sandhamn, transforming the tiny island and its picture-perfect red and yellow houses into a sailing hub for well-off Swedes. Every summer, the island’s marina overflows with boats for Gotland Runt, the world’s largest annual offshore race, which starts here. Now, as a world-class sailing hub, Sandhamn usually buzzes with activity in the summer when Swedes and international visitors arrive, causing the island population to swell. But during my shoulder season visit, the island was eerily silent. I wandered alone down late spring forest trails, following root-covered paths through lush carpets of moss and wildberry bushes, edged by wind-blown pine trees. Falu-red beach cottages with shuttered windows and Adirondack chairs faced the calm, steel-gray waters of the Baltic Sea.
“Take your time. Tranquility goes hand in hand with lagom,” Mimmi Grönkvist, co-owner of the yachting company Out, had told me over cinnamon rolls and coffee the day before I arrived.
Since lagom focuses on achieving personal balance, there is no universal formula for it. However, according to Åkerström, it involves cultivating habits that are effortlessly sustainable instead of making drastic changes that prove unsustainable long term. Walking epitomizes that sweet spot for me, somewhere between exerting myself and not doing anything at all. Thus, I committed to two daily hikes along the Archipelago Trail: one in the morning and one in the afternoon, which left me plenty of time to enjoy other activities, as well as simply doing nothing at all.
“Lagom is a mindset that requires you to stop, take a break, have a coffee, and then just people watch, because you can also tell a lot about a destination by doing that,” Åkerström explained, adding that fika, the Swedish concept of taking a daily coffee and pastry break, is similarly meant to “recalibrate” the mind and bring inner balance.
Sandhamn Seglarhotell is the island’s most prominent accommodation, located in a 19th-century building that was once the headquarters of the Royal Swedish Yacht Club. I checked into a freshly renovated suite that overlooked the marina with a private sauna in the bathroom. Finland might be the top destination for practicing sauna culture, but Sweden is a close second. “There’s a big sauna and massage culture [in Sweden], much of it tied to nature as well,” Åkerström told me.
Saunas are an essential part of the landscape in the Stockholm Archipelago. In Bullerön, an island once owned by Swedish artist Bruno Liljefors and now a bird sanctuary and nature reserve, a dark wooden cottage sits on a deck hovering over the cold waters of the Baltic, with the rocky shoreline behind it. It’s a public wood-fired sauna available to all. In many hotels, even small B&Bs, a sauna is a non-negotiable amenity (Sandhamn Seglarhotell has a sauna floating on the sea). In the archipelago, travelers will find many publicly accessible private saunas similar to the one in Bullerön, available to book for a fee.
I have always been skeptical about sitting still in a small, hot room while sweating, finding the experience borderline claustrophobic and uncomfortable. But on that chilly, misty afternoon in charming Sandhamn, I found myself reconsidering the sauna experience, feeling a newfound curiosity and willingness to give it another try. I remembered something Grönkvist had mentioned on the yacht: one of the downsides of lagom is that it could keep you within your comfort zone, avoiding new experiences.
With that in mind, I alternated between cold showers and heat until my stress melted away and I felt the quiet sense of euphoria that comes from the release of endorphins.
Turns out wellbeing—both mental and physical—and lagom go hand in hand. That means enjoying nutritious, sustainably sourced, seasonal food. The island of Harö in the Stockholm Archipelago is home to Harö Natur, a restaurant and a glamping site with a handful of accommodations, including a floating mirrored greenhouse and treehouses tucked in the woods.
Owner and chef Staffan Boija has created a cozy retreat tucked along Harö’s scenic shoreline, where he treats visitors to wood-fired pizzas and a multi-course tasting menu that celebrates the season’s bounty. The dining room, housed in a former grocery store, feels like the living room of a friend, with only a few tables made out of raw wood and surrounded by chairs draped with cozy blankets, sitting over area rugs. Between courses of toasted rustic bread topped with crushed tomatoes and siklöja whitefish, and wood-fired lobster tail served with slices of fior di latte pizza, Boija told me that the menu is largely determined by the day’s freshest products. Nothing conveyed a deeper sense of place than his dessert, though—a chunk of rich chocolate cake, topped with a dollop of whipped cream, fresh berries, streaks of basil oil, and, to my surprise, tender pine tips. Earlier that day, as I was roaming the trails of Runmarö island, I had snacked on young pine tips after my hiking companion had mentioned they were edible. “They taste like my childhood,” Boija told me at the end of my meal.
As I left the waterfront restaurant feeling completely satisfied (though perhaps not entirely in line with the moderation aspect of lagom), the setting sun had left just a sliver of orange daylight above the dark silhouettes of the forest, casting a warm glow across the softly rippled sea.
Both Åkerström and Grönkvist, along with half a dozen Swedes I chatted with during my trip around the archipelago, agreed that spending time in nature is essential to achieving a balanced travel routine. Sweden’s Allemansrätten law, also known as “The Right of Public Access,” allows everyone to roam freely, camp, and forage on private property, as long as it’s done with respect for nature and wildlife.
Before I left the archipelago, I sneaked another early morning hike on Grinda, a storybook-perfect island of lush meadows, family-owned B&Bs, and small restaurants, just an hour from Stockholm. As I followed a narrow forest path ascending between moss-covered boulders and towering pine trees, I came upon a makeshift viewpoint overlooking the calm sea, dotted with islets and skerries.
After a few cloudy days, the sky was finally a bright shade of monochrome blue. As I stood at the rocky edge of the shoreline, I felt a deep happiness—not the euphoric type that overwhelms with excitement, but rather a peaceful contentment and gratitude for the present moment. This must be lagom, I thought.