Naked in Malmö: First impressions of Sweden’s Nude Beaches

We didn’t really know what to expect when we travelled north this summer. Well, we thought we knew, but it didn’t take long before we realised that most of our expectations were just based on a few facts and that the truth is often much more complicated.

Crossing the invisible line between north-west Germany and Denmark had completely changed our nude beach experience. In Germany, we had to look for FKK signs, and when we found them, we could be certain that more or less everyone would be naked.

Just over the border, nude beach signs magically disappeared. Going naked on a beach is not something the Danish seek approval for, let alone that they need a sign. It’s something they just do. In various forms.

When we made the (very expensive) bridge crossing from Copenhagen into Sweden, the setting would change once again.

We didn’t really know all that much about Sweden when we drove straight into it. The few Swedes we had ever met were at Costa Natura, who were exchanging the harsh cold season conditions in their home country for a warm winter sun in Spain. But we can’t remember them telling any stories about naturism in their home country. We can’t remember asking about it either. And, of course, there’s our Swedish friend Caroline, who appeared in some of our videos, but she loved to tell us (many times) that she was not like the typical Swede.

What we did know about Sweden was that the country has a strong sauna culture. A practice where, by default, all clothes are banned (even though fancy spa resorts on the Mediterranean Coast will try to make you believe something different). Caroline didn’t consider herself a naturist at all, but she told us many stories about how she and her friends used to spend winter evenings in steaming wooden cabins followed by a skinny dip in a hole dug out of the ice.

This was enough proof for us that social nudity in Sweden was worth exploring. And our research immediately showed that the country has quite some nude beaches. So that was exactly what we did as soon as we arrived. It was a beautiful sunny day, and in this part of the world, these should never be wasted. But we can’t really speak of a huge success.

Ålabodarnas nakenbad, roughly 40 minutes north of Malmö city, was our first stop. “nakenbad” or “naturistbad” is the Swedish term for “nude beach”, which you will see regularly appear on Google Maps or on physical signs. But no signs here, though. You park at some parking lot, take a trail to the textile beach, and then just start walking north. It’s hard to miss, because somewhere halfway the beach is an old WWII bunker with the word “nude” painted on it.

The bunker draws the unofficial line between the textile part and the nude part, and unfortunately also between the sandy part and the rocky part. The latter being the nude side. Other than rocks, there was also a thick layer of rotting sea grass, so our options for a spot to lie down were either sharp and uncomfortable, or soft and stinky.

If we remember well, at the very beginning of the nude section were two couples, further along, nothing but men on their own. Their faces followed us as we walked further, looking for a spot. As soon as we (read: Lins) started undressing, a few of the men started moving closer towards us, and it became pretty obvious that it was “that kind of beach”. We didn’t stay for more than 5 minutes, got dressed again, walked back, and to make sure that we were absolutely certain of the vibe, one guy started masturbating as we passed by.

If we had been in a cartoon, you would have seen our opinion about Swedish nude culture being scattered like a mirror that just met a baseball. Luckily, it got a lot better from there.

Just 10 kilometres north of the nude beach we just escaped from, we found almost the complete opposite. A signposted nude beach called Knähaken, at the end of a very popular stretch of textile beach. The vibe could hardly have been more different. There were different ages, plenty of couples, a few single women and single men who acted as normal people do on a beach. And it was busy. At least a few hundred people on a stretch of just a few hundred meters.

We checked out some other nude beaches in the area and found interesting patterns. The official, signposted nude beaches are by far the most popular ones, and it felt at times like we were back in Germany, in the sense that the nude beaches were not hidden. They weren’t in the middle of everything either, usually at the ends of a textile beach, but it wasn’t that there were bushes hiding the naked zone or rocks we had to climb over. Just a simple “nakenbad” sign indicating that from here on, the dress code is skin.

Unofficial nude beaches, on the other hand, reminded us more of the Italian or Spanish coasts. Wild, empty stretches in the middle of nowhere, where the masses don’t come and where space to get comfortably naked is more than plenty.

In any case, scenes like at the first nude beach had not repeated themselves and our trust in the Swedish naturist was restored. Although for a short while it looked as if it might get broken again in downtown Malmö.

Malmö is a coastal city, and right next to downtown is a huge recreational park following the coastline south. It’s the kind of park where people come to spend their sunny weekend days, packed with activities, volleyball courts, ice cream shops, and huge lawns to sunbathe on. Every few hundred meters is a numbered “brygga” (bridge), which is convenient to meet up with your friends and to know what is where in the park. The last brygga, number 10, indicates the nude zone.

All along the park leads a walking/cycling trail going from the city towards the harbour, just after the nude beach. We came from the harbour side, so the nude beach was the first thing we encountered. And it was pretty awkward. Between the sea and the path is a lawn, and right in the middle of it is a huge bush. In between the bush and the path were nothing but naked men, all pointing their legs towards the path. Laid out with the kind of symmetry you’d expect from a synchronised swimming team that had given up on the swimming part.

We had almost written it off as yet another one of “those” beaches, if it wasn’t that the next day was magnificent weather and we decided to give it another shot. The part between bush and path (pun intended) was still the same. But now we also discovered the part between bush and sea, which is where all the other people were hanging out. Now we were surrounded by all ages and genders, couples, singles, and families, and one of the best vibes we had found at a nude beach so far on this trip north. What was supposed to be another quick look turned into a long afternoon naked in the sun.

This first week in Sweden had already taught us that the nude beach culture in this country knows as much variety as we found in many other countries in Europe, and now we knew that it was also definitely worth it to give a place a second shot. We briefly considered trying Ålabodarnas again, but we figured that although the masturbating guy may be gone, the rocks and sea grass probably are not. So instead, we decided to continue our journey towards Sweden’s naturist campsites. But those stories are for another time.