We had just pulled off the narrow forest road outside Oestersund when the satnav decided we were already there, which would have been handy if we had actually spotted the turning. My partner was convinced the little red cabin sat just beyond the next bend, but after three false alarms and one very startled reindeer we finally found the gravel track marked Baksjoebodarna. The late October light was already fading by the time we rolled up, the birches glowing that soft gold they only manage for a couple of weeks before the snow arrives.

The cabin itself looked exactly like the photos, a simple timber place with a covered porch and a stack of split logs by the door. What the pictures had not prepared us for was how quiet it felt once the car engine stopped. No traffic, no neighbours, just the sound of our boots on the wooden steps and the occasional creak from the roof as the temperature dropped. We had chosen the shoulder season deliberately, hoping for cheaper rates and fewer people, yet standing there in the half-dark with the first proper chill of the year nipping at our ears, I wondered whether we had underestimated how quickly the days shrink up here.

Inside, the wood burner was already laid, which felt like a small mercy. We got it going while unpacking the food we had picked up in the village shop, then sat on the sofa with mugs of tea watching the flames take hold. The windows looked straight into the trees, and every so often a gust would send a handful of yellow leaves skittering across the glass. It was the sort of view that makes you forget about checking emails, though I still caught myself reaching for my phone out of habit before remembering there was no signal anyway.

By the time we stepped back outside to fetch more logs, the sky had turned that deep violet you only get in the north during autumn. The air smelled of pine and wood smoke, and our breath hung in front of us in little clouds. We had planned a short walk for the following morning, but the sudden drop in temperature made me question whether trainers would be enough. Still, there was something oddly satisfying about knowing the weather was now in charge of the schedule.

Later, lying in bed listening to the stove tick as it cooled, I realised the mishap with the satnav had actually done us a favour. Without those extra minutes driving in circles we might have arrived while it was still light and missed how quickly the landscape changes once the sun disappears behind the hills. The cabin felt warmer for it, and so did we.