Blå Jungfrun

Blå Jungfrun is a single dome of granite rising 86 metres out of the Kalmar Strait between Öland and the mainland — treeless on top, ice-polished smooth, and visible for miles as a blue-grey silhouette that explains the name, "the Blue Maiden". Even the name is folklore: sailors held that the island's real name, Blåkulla, must never be spoken at sea, so the euphemism became official. Blåkulla is where Sweden's witches were said to fly for their sabbath each Easter, and the island has carried that reputation since at least the sixteenth century.

The rock itself does most of the atmosphere. The lower slopes are bare roches moutonnées scoured by the ice sheet, polished so smooth they shine after rain; there are caves in the flanks — the "maiden's chamber" among them — and, up on the plateau, a stone labyrinth of the old Baltic trojaborg type, its age unknown, laid by fishermen or by someone with other purposes, depending on which century's explanation you prefer. A skirt of stunted oaks and lindens clings to the sheltered east side; the west is naked stone into the sea.

The park dates from 1926, and its strictness suits the legends: no overnight stays, no fires, and — famously — take nothing. Superstition holds that a stone removed from Blå Jungfrun brings misfortune until it is returned, and every year the county administration receives parcels of pebbles mailed back from around the world with letters of apology.

What's worth knowing before you go

Tour boats run in summer from Oskarshamn on the mainland and Byxelkrok on northern Öland, giving a few hours ashore; landings depend entirely on swell, and cancellations are part of the deal. There is no jetty to speak of, no fresh water and no shelter — good shoes for bare rock, and sun protection, matter more than usual. The circuit to the labyrinth and the summit plateau fills the time ashore comfortably.

The detail to remember: don't pocket a souvenir. The returned-stones correspondence is real, and the county has the archive to prove it.