Sweden is one of the largest countries in Europe, and has more than 7,600 kilometers of coastline. In such an enormous area, it can be predicted that the phenomena caused by erosion go a long way. Virtually all of that coastline is sandwiched between the vast Gulf of Botia and the Baltic Sea, where however it is not uncommon for weather agents to come down with rude force.
The Swedish province of Gotland occupies the center of that sea. At its northern end is the small island of Färo. For most mortals, an enigma; for moviegoers, a mecca; for geologists, a preferential point of attention.
The stubbornness of the waves, the wind and the ice have generated the raukar phenomenon in very specific parts of Färo and nearby areas. These are rocky monoliths that stand like a tightrope walker with a very strange foot, drawing surly shapes near the surf.
The phenomenon is produced by the configuration of the rocks in the area. The gray and blinding limestone combined with the marl on which it sits makes it easier for meteors to have more power to wear down soft areas. Thus, the stones are subjected to harassment and stone arches appear, strange figures lying down, upright columns... that are dotting the coastline.
Geologists come to study the raukar (rauk, singular) trusting everything to the explanation of erosion. However, the fertile Scandinavian imagination has traditionally seen in these rocks all kinds of spirits, demons and their mounts. Even a scientist of eternal stature like Carl von Linné was fooled by the raukar and assured that this portion of the Swedish coastline was populated by fantasy beings.
Färo is not far from the main island of Gotland, and frequent ferries disembark people who want to walk the coastline admiring these rocky monoliths as they look like a remote mineral desert. The little island of 111 square kilometers (somewhat larger than Formentera) fascinated one of the greats of world cinematography, Ingmar Bergman. The director of The Seventh Seal, Fanny and Alexander and a long list of other masterpieces spent a good part of his life on the island of mysterious rocks, and even made three films there, precisely known as the Färo trilogy (The Hour of of the Wolf, The Shame and The Passion of Ana). The tortured coastal landscapes matched perfectly with the stories he wanted to tell.
Bergman died in Färo in 2007, where he lived for almost three decades, and is buried there. Pilgrims who love his art can approach the simple tombstone that reminds him, actually a rock filed down by the elements, without carving. The inscription leads many to confusion, since his wife Ingrid is also buried there, but she is not the famous leading actress of Casablanca.
In very expensive Sweden, it is appreciated that the ferry between Färosund (in the extreme north of the island of Gotland, which has some raukar in the extreme southwest) with Färo is free. It works like a shuttle that leaves every half hour in both directions. It is feasible to visit Färo in a single day, but if you want to spend the night, the island offers some accommodation with facilities that are far from luxurious but charming.
