Notes from a Tramline

The Lidingöbanan is a tram line that goes from Ropsten to Gåshaga Brygge on the island of Lidingö.  Like much of Stockholm's light rail networks, it's spent much of its life being threatened with closure.  Indeed, it used to have a second branch, one that went into the town of Lidingö itself, but that was closed decades ago.  The existing line only clung on because it passed the huge AGA factory and was useful for the workers; now, in the 21st century, the line is being celebrated as the valuable transport link it is.

The eventual hope is that it will be extended south on the Ropsten side, along the docks, encouraging regeneration there and facilitating homes and businesses to be built, before joining up with the Spårväg City tramline.  That would enable journeys between destinations on the east of the city without needing to go into the centre of Stockholm, and would give T-Centralen yet another destination.  Funding is, of course, the problem, with SL prioritising the T-bana extensions and the Roslagsbanan improvements first.

Sat at home in front of my computer, I'd thought "and obviously once I get to Ropsten I'll simply collect all twelve stops on the Lidingöbanan as well."  I'd not realised how tired I'd be after collecting 100 stations, or how melancholic at knowing my trip was coming to an end.  Instead I took the escalator down from the T-bana station and sat on a tram and simply rode it.  As I did, I made a load of notes - impressions, really - of what was happening as I travelled and what I saw.  That's what follows in this blog post.  Think of it as sketching rather than proper writing.

Tram is new and quick.  Vague sound of a noisy child somewhere at the back.  A couple chat, continuously, casually.  Across the way, a handsome man in a blue linen shirt and jeans.

Electric whirr and we're away.  Over the new bridge, speeding up to the central hump.  Ticket inspector appears in a baseball cap and scans my app. On the island now, drop into a gully for Torsvik, a high wall of red rock soaring up.  You have to ring the bell to stop the tram, like a bus.  Cruise ships in port across the water.  Handsome Man has closed his eyes to doze.

More rocky walls at Baggeby plus the hint of a red home poking over the trees.  More trees and a neatly mown embankment then concrete and cars at Bodal.  Handsome Man has woking up and is resting his Adidases on the seat support in front.  Larsberg, and a university building, then an ICA supermarket and the first visible apartment buildings.  Feels so rural here the apartments seem out of place.  You hear island, you think out of the way.

The round roofs of the depot as we approach AGA.  Is this the same AGA as the posh cookers?  I've never really found out.  People get on - a man with a moustache and thick glasses, two teenage girls in matching white blouses.  1920s factory building - is it still in use?  The noisy baby is now a crying baby.

Skärsätra has an old fashioned waiting room, with tiled roof and wooden walls, set back from the narrow tram platform.  The baby and her mother got off here.  Tram is quiet and smooth.  We skip Kottla - nobody rang the bell - and a spurt of speed through the woods, rocky embankments whizzing past.  A level crossing holds back a single car.  Högsberga is a proper village with many passengers waiting.  Dark wooden maisonette homes, a sports field with goal.  

Brevik has five storey apartment blocks and another tram waiting on the opposite platform.  We pause together, then move in opposing directions.  Handsome Man has sat silently the whole trip, not checking his phone once, and alights at Käppala alongside a bullet-headed bald man.  Another old shelter but this one is covered with wooden shutters.  Allotments at the side of the track - upside down umbrellas to collect the rain - light industry starting to appear at Gåshaga.  Port industries.  

Final stretch.  Scaffolding and more red houses.  Newer apartments built for the tram.  

Terminus.

I got off the tram and had a wander round Gåsjaga brygga.  There's not much to it; an ostentatious building that once held a cafe but is now closed, some apartment blocks built for the view.  The main attraction here is the ferry dock.

I thought about getting a ferry.  Not sure where to, just jumping aboard.  Part of me wanted to do that for the rest of the day, for the rest of the year.  Island hopping, passing round the archipelago, visiting the different ports.

If I'd started I'd have never got back to England.  I'd be bushy bearded, wearing raggedy clothes, the ghost of a ferry traveller haunting all the docks.  Whispered about by the crews.

Instead I went back to the tram.  I had to, really.  And I love a tram.