Sweden

Think of Mike Buckley as a kind of double agent.

Not the sinister kind, who give away state secrets for money or revenge; Buckley is privy to much lower-level intelligence. But that doesn’t mean it’s not just as valuable to the people involved.

Buckley is the Kings’ goaltender coach and his chief pupil is Darcy Kuemper, who will be playing for Team Canada in the Milan Cortina Olympic hockey tournament. Buckley will be in Milan coaching for Team USA. And if the competition goes to form, Canada and the U.S. will meet in the final.

You can see where this is going.

So would Buckley give up the goods on his NHL goalie if it meant helping his national team win a gold medal?

“I probably have a little bit more insight being with him on a day-to-day basis. But at the end of the day, the players still have to execute,” said Buckley, like Kuemper, a first-time Olympian. “So if I tell someone to shoot somewhere at a certain time or a certain spot, they’re going to have to be able to execute that.”

The answer then is maybe.

Still, that’s a dilemma Buckley will probably never face since Jordan Binnington of the St. Louis Blues, who was spectacular in goal in last year’s Four Nations Face-off, will probably start for Canada in Milan. But with the Kings sending four other players (defenseman Drew Doughty, Canada; and forwards Adrian Kempe, Sweden; Kevin Fiala, Switzerland; and Joel Armia, Finland) plus Canadian equipment manager Darren Granger to the Olympics, there’s a good chance guys who have shared a dressing room since September will be competing against one another.

Kings forward Kevin Fiala controls the puck while playing for Team Switzerland at the 2025 world championships.

(Michael Campanella / Getty Images)

The same goes for the Ducks, who are sending four players — goalie Lukas Dostal and defenseman Radko Gudas, Czechia; forward Mikael Granlund, Finland; and defenseman Jackson LaCombe, U.S. — to Milan. Ducks star Leo Carlsson, who was expected to start for Sweden, will miss the Games after undergoing surgery to repair a rare injury in his left thigh last month.

So while the Olympics may bring countries together, it also has the potential to turn teammates against one another — at least temporarily.

In the group stage of the tournament, for example, Armia and Finland will play against Kempe’s Sweden. And Canada, with Kuemper and Doughty, will face Switzerland, which is led by Fiala.

“It’s obviously going to be a little strange,” Gudas said. “It’s only for a few games. For that amount of time, you can put things aside a little bit.”

Those kinds of match-ups were rare in the last two Olympic tournaments since NHL players didn’t take part, sidelined by a dispute over insurance, travel costs and scheduling issues. This year 147 NHL players are on the 12 Olympic rosters, with all 32 NHL clubs represented.

Not all the top NHL players will be in Milan, however. Russia has been banned from the tournament because of the country’s invasion of Ukraine, meaning Alexander Ovechkin, the NHL’s all-time leading goal scorer, won’t play.

Granlund, who won a bronze medal with Finland in 2014, the last time NHL players participated in the Olympics, is glad to be back.

“It was such a cool experience,” he said. “It’s one of the biggest honors I can have as a hockey player, playing for a country in the Olympics. There’s no player in the NHL who wouldn’t go.”

That’s due in large part to the rush that comes with wearing your country’s colors on your chest.

“It’s tough to explain how much it means,” he said. “You grow up in a country like Finland, watching the national team play. As a kid you’re dreaming to play for that team.

“Every single time you put that jersey on, it’s such a pride you feel.”

Doughty, who already has two gold medals, agreed, saying the only time he sings along with the Canadian anthem is at the Olympics.

Kings defenseman Drew Doughty controls the puck while playing for Canada in the Four Nations Face-Off last year.

(Maddie Meyer / Getty Images)

“When we hear it in the NHL, I’m not singing,” he said. “But when you’re wearing a Canadian jersey, that’s one of the biggest moments you can have.”

Not just for the guys on the ice. Granger, the equipment manager, will be making his third trip to the Olympics with Canada. And the journey never gets old.

“It’s not something that you apply for. It’s something that you’re asked to do,” he said. “So I don’t take that lightly. It’s an honor.”

The equipment managers may have the most difficult job in the Olympic hockey tournament since they must prepare and maintain the sticks, skates, gloves and uniforms for 25 players, some of whom they’ve never met. That means checking in with the equipment managers of rival NHL teams to get prepared.

“We have quite a few players that are particular about certain things,” he said. “After a while, you just kind of get used to what those things are. If it’s a player that likes to use three sticks a game, then making sure he has that. If it’s a guy that likes to change gloves every other game, making sure you have enough.”

Yet if Canada wins the tournament, Granger’s reward won’t be a gold medal. Olympic rules say medals only go to the players, leaving the equipment managers, trainers and coaches — even coaches with inside information like Buckley — out in the cold.

“That’s OK,” Buckley said. “I just want the players to get one.”

Out on the water, paddling across the straits between two small rocky islands, the dusk fades and the stars appear. Jennie has done her best to coach me in local geography before darkness, showing me the map with its patchwork of islands and bays, and describing the shape of each landmark. All to no avail. I’m more than happy to be lost at sea, leaning back in my kayak to gaze at the constellations, occasionally checking that the red light on the stern of her kayak is still visible ahead. We stop in the sheltered lee of an island and hear a hoot. “Eurasian eagle owl,” says Jennie. “They nest here.” Then she switches off all the lights. “Let’s paddle slowly close to shore. Watch what happens.”

As soon as we move, the sea flickers into life, every paddle stroke triggering thrilling trails of cold, blue sparkles. When we stop, I slap my hand on the surface and the sea is momentarily electrified into a nebulous neural network of light, like some great salty brain figuring out this alien intrusion. Below that, squadrons of jellyfish pulse their own spectral contribution.

“When I was a child,” Jennie whispers (we are both whispering), “there was no light pollution. We would throw stones from the shore to see what we called ‘sea fire’.” I spend a pointless few minutes attempting to photograph this elusive bioluminescence, then relax and simply enjoy it. Travel should broaden the mind, not the iCloud.

We are in the maze of deserted islands off Hälsö (population: 569), one of 10 inhabited islands in Sweden’s northern Gothenburg archipelago. To get here, all it took was a short bus ride out of Sweden’s second city, a brief ferry ride, then a leisurely hike along the new coastal trail that snakes round these islands, using bridges, causeways and ferries to connect. It does not feel like a lot, not for the sensation of being on the far side of the Milky Way in a kayak-shaped flying saucer.

My own definition of an island is any land mass surrounded by water that is large enough for Robinson Crusoe to survive on. I want a beach, a lookout point and enough driftwood to build a shack. The Swedish mapping office, Lantmäteriet, however, defines an island as anything more than 9 sq metres, an area sufficient to pitch a small tent. Using this definition, Sweden boasts in excess of 260,000, though only about 8,000 have ever been settled and less than 1,000 are now inhabited. My aim on this trip is to visit about half a dozen in the Gothenburg archipelago.

The new footpath is a 21.7-mile(35km) section of the much longer Kuststigen trail that goes from Gothenburg to Oslo, but this small slice is worth taking a little time over. I base myself in Skärgårdshotellet on Hönö, where there are a few cafes and restaurants. It’s a quiet place outside school summer holidays. On the first morning, I walk over a soaring bridge to the southernmost island of Fotö and discover why the relatively short distances can take time. As soon as the path leaves the road, you are on a maze of boulders, a massive adventure playground for anyone who loves leaping and scrambling. The fantastical patterns of striations, crystallisation and lichen only cause further delays.

I am almost late back to Hönö for my boat trip with Lasse, an avuncular computer expert turned sailor, who takes visitors out on his veteran fishing vessel. We do not spot any seals – the ostensible objective – but that doesn’t matter. We spend a couple of hours wending our way through the uninhabited islands out to the archipelago’s farthest point, the rocky outcrop of Vinga. This was once home to Evert Taube, one of Sweden’s great folk music balladeers, whose father was the lighthouse keeper.

That evening, back in Hönö, in the Tullhuset restaurant at the harbour mouth, I sit with the owner, Preben Pedersen, and watch the Vinga lighthouse flash. “The islands are very proud of the Evert Taube connection,” he tells me. “Music has always been important here. The church played a big part in that.”

As usual, however, the devil had the best tunes. While the islands were once officially “dry”, smuggling and illicit production were rife, and had their own geography: Moonshine Bay was a popular hangout for local folk music heroes such as Arne I Bora (real name John Arne Jansson) who blasted out a rougher kind of melody. (He made one album, after relentless encouragement from locals). Preben’s brother, Leif, upholds the tradition, occasionally playing at the restaurant. The church retains a strong presence: I see signs out for prayer meetings. “Don’t miss the old church on Öckerö,” Jennie had told me while we were kayaking. “As kids, we were terrified of it!”

Next day, I meet local climber Andreas Lundqvist at Ersdalen, a vast boulder-strewn coastal area on Hönö. Andreas brings a crash mat and I turn myself inside out attempting routes that he breezes up without any apparent effort. The mix of the otherworldly seascape and Andreas’s storytelling about growing up on the islands and subsequent adventures makes the whole experience hugely enjoyable.

Exploring the archipelago is made simple with the Västtrafik app on your phone, so I catch the ferry out to the last, most northerly island, Rörö. The weather has turned from blue skies to thick mist, but this suits the sparse, mysterious splendour of a remote island. I squelch through bogs, scramble over lichen-crusted boulders and come across wild ponies.

The ferry back connects promptly with a bus that takes me back across the islands. There is one more place I want to explore: the old church on Öckerö. Why did local kids such as Jennie grow up terrified of this place?

It is a simple red-roofed Scandinavian church dating from the 1450s, but the door is locked and the windows too high to see anything. Determined to get inside, I ring around local contacts and get the number of the verger who agrees to come down. Ten minutes later, he arrives and unlocks, but does not enter. “Text me when you’re finished,” he says.

In the small vestibule there are some ancient stones and a sword. I step into the nave. There are 17th-century models of sailing ships in cases either side, and everything is as might be expected, with robust, precise woodwork. Then I see the ceiling frescoes. The rear of the church roof is a painted hell. No wonder the island kids were terrified: fire-breathing monsters and demons dance across the barrel-vaulted timbers, torturing sinners who are sinking into scarlet flames. But then a suspended sailing ship points the way to salvation, the colours lighten, and by the time I reach the altar, everyone is floating on clouds and blowing trumpets. I guess those are the ones who stayed away from Moonshine Bay. Painted in 1792, it is a tour de force.

Eventually, I drag myself away, text the verger and, after just a couple of bus rides and a ferry, step down in Gothenburg. I’m still feeling a little dazed, as if I’ve been somewhere very far away indeed.

The trip was provided by the Gothenburg Tourist Board and travel to Gothenburg by Interrail (a four-day in within one month adult pass is £189). The Skårgårdshotellet has doubles from £93. Jennie Walker takes evening kayak tours from £63pp Andreas Lundqvist offers bouldering adventures from £115. Boat trips with Lasse from £20