A Deep Dive into the Blog Archive I – A Parade of Signs

The other day, I realized that by now, I’ve written a few thousand blog posts. And that’s just on this blog—not to mention the couple of others I’ve run, plus various guest posts elsewhere. All in all, that adds up to a heck of a lot of writing. A few of these pieces might be worth bringing back into the light. I also realized that none of them have been translated into English, so perhaps someone new might appreciate them!

For that reason, I plan to engage in a bit of "blog archaeology" from time to time, republishing old posts under the heading "Deep Dive into the Blog Archive." This first entry is a blast from the past, dating back to when I was a more active cyclist. Enjoy! A warning though, no knives are involved!

As someone with a background in communication studies, I sometimes cannot help but take an interest in road signs; they are semiotically fascinating in that they can represent symbols, icons, and indices alike.

Icons can be loosely described as simpler and more universal, given that they resemble their objects. Indices, too, share a close relationship with their objects, whereas symbols—as is well known—require a cultural convention to be understood.

I find all of this fascinating—it’s something that often crosses my mind as I cycle past various signs and notices. Beyond their purely informative purpose, they can also be amusing, absurd, or even thought-provoking, each telling a story of its own.

The photos were taken during various bike rides over the past few years. While some have appeared on this site before, I felt like sharing a few additional thoughts about them. In no particular order, here is a collection of signs that have stuck in my memory.

Suitable?

The sign in the picture above provides an immediate link to history and times past. The ravages of time have taken a heavy toll on the paint, aided and abetted by the elements.

It is located in Aneboda*, and the amusing aspect is that it marks the beginning of the community—and, consequently, a reduction in the maximum permitted speed. The irony lies in the fact that the road one arrives from is a very small gravel track—little more than a forest road—which is also a dead end. On such a road, as is well known, one is permitted to drive a vehicle at seventy kilometers per hour, should one deem it advisable. This also applies on snow and ice, as is the case here.

When the panic sets in

Sometimes, when the need is at its most acute and pressing, finding a sign like this can come as a great relief. Some wag saw fit to place this one in a bog near the mountain hotel in Sälen. Just getting there without a pair of waders is an achievement in itself.

Tough

When you find yourself in more mountainous terrain than my native Småland, you might come across signs like this one. This particular sign is from our western neighbor and suggests that the miles ahead could be quite grueling for a cyclist. An average gradient of eight percent over more than 20 kilometers is a genuine challenge for most people. It’s also worth noting that road conditions can sometimes be so treacherous that heavy vehicles are required to use snow chains—there are even designated zones for fitting them. This sign is located in Måbödalen, on the ascent toward the Hardangervidda plateau.

The high road

You can aim for even greater heights in the Alps. This photo is from Switzerland, taken at the Grimsel Pass—a popular route for cyclists, motorists, and motorcyclists alike. It is among the highest roads I have ever traveled.

Back in Sweden, I have of course driven the road over Flatruet in Härjedalen. It sits at an elevation of around 975 meters above sea level, if I recall correctly. It is an intriguing route in that it is Sweden’s highest public road, yet it lacks a standard road designation. The stretch is frequently closed at night and during severe weather.. 

Oops

 In a low-lying area about two meters above sea level—encountered quite by chance during a mountain biking trip in Skåne this past summer—I came across this sign. Military notices aren’t exactly rare when you’re out mountain biking, but what made this one interesting was that I first saw it from the back; I couldn’t read the text until I’d made my way right up to it. And by then, it was high time to act: I simply had to leave the area immediately, as instructed.**

Warning

This was written on a rather dilapidated building out in the woods, which I encountered as I emerged from a spruce thicket—half-carrying, half-dragging my bike—after having crossed a stretch of bog and a small stream. Sometimes, when you’re out scouting for trails, forest cycling turns into something akin to orienteering. The sign reads:

Warning

of chemical burns

(Proh)ibition against passing

 cordoned-off area.

What?

Old, forgotten signs can easily seem a bit absurd. I know there is a backstory explaining why this one is placed where it is, but now it mostly just seems comical. "Warning: Other Hazard!" In this case, ostriches. However, it stands in a spruce plantation—long since grown tall—along the abandoned narrow-gauge railway line outside Braås, near the Braåsverken plant. The first time I passed by, I stared frantically into the woods, trying to see if I could make out any long necks among the tree trunks.

Public road ends here

This sign left me a bit frustrated, as it appeared at one end of the stretch of road in question but had no counterpart at the other. A matching sign would have saved me some climbing and what amounted to off-road cycling on my road bike—since the approach from the opposite direction offered no warning whatsoever. The asphalt road turned into an 11% incline, then transitioned into a smaller road, which became a gravel track, and finally morphed into a forest service road. The surface subsequently turned into loose, uncompacted crushed stone in places. To top it all off, the route involved a couple of hundred meters of elevation gain. This all took place on the Hallandsåsen ridge, near Vallåsen.

Back Up

In situations like these, it’s good to have a "Plan B." It’s not a particularly striking sign in itself, but, as mentioned, it can be extremely fitting at times. It can be found at the Åbo sports ground, just outside Växjö. It struck a chord with me, serving as a reminder that it’s good to have backup plans now and then.

City Center

This sign requires an explanation to be considered funny. As hinted, it can be found in Ängelholm. The absurdity lies in the fact that it is difficult to read in time, as it is located in the middle of a railway underpass—specifically, embedded in the track ballast between two sets of rails. Upon seeing it, it is virtually impossible to be in any doubt about your destination, since there is simply no way to end up anywhere other than the center of Ängelholm.

NO golfing

That sign, too, is a reminder of days gone by—or perhaps just of the carefree eighties, when Växjö was even more of a golfing town than it is today. While a few courses in the immediate area may have gone out of business since then, two still remain within the city limits, with another just a short distance away. Yet, for a time, casual golfing and driving practice posed such a problem that signs like this one had to be put up in parks and green spaces.

/ J - the archivedigger

PS. almost forgot this one...

An absolutely wonderfully surprising sign to come across while out mountain biking. 

* For some context. Aneboda is the name of a very old and very small village where my mother lives. On that road, it’s hardly suitable to drive faster than 20–25 mph, yet you’re legally allowed to drive at nearly 45 mph! If a road is not regulated in Sweden the base speed is 70 km/h. 

** It states, among other things, that traveling by vehicle across the terrain can be life-threatening and that "entering land and water is at one's own risk."

*** The visible part of the sign reads "