Tucked into Dalsland, in a part of Sweden that rarely makes it into travel itineraries, stands a tall wooden cylinder by the water. It used to be a grain silo. For decades, farmers brought wheat and rye here by boat and wagon, and the building did exactly what it was meant to do. Nothing more.
Today, that same structure is STF Upperud 99. You don’t just stay near the old silo. You sleep inside it.
The first impression is a bit unexpected. The building is taller than anything else nearby, but it doesn’t feel out of place. It stands right by Upperudshöljen, part of the canal system that cuts through the region, and the whole setting is quiet in a way that feels unforced. No dramatic viewpoints, no curated “wow” moments. Just water, trees, and a structure that has been there long enough to belong.
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Walk closer and you start to notice what hasn’t been changed. The exterior still looks like a working building. Solid wood, simple lines, nothing decorative. There’s a small pier below, where guests sometimes sit with breakfast when the weather holds. It’s the kind of place where you end up doing less than you planned, and that turns out to be the point.
Inside, the transformation becomes clearer. The silo has been divided into five separate units, each one following the original cylindrical shape. The rooms are tall rather than wide, and the walls still carry the marks of their past. Thick wooden planks run horizontally, slightly uneven, and in some places you can still find traces of grain caught in the gaps.
They haven’t tried to hide it.
Each unit fits up to four people, but the layout is compact. Beds are placed on lofts, reached by steep stairs or ladders, and the rest of the space is arranged carefully to make it work. There’s a small kitchen with what you actually need, not more, and a proper bathroom with underfloor heating. Large windows or narrow balconies open toward the lake, which matters more than the square meters.
What stands out isn’t luxury. It’s restraint. The design leaves enough of the original structure visible that you never forget what the building used to be, but it doesn’t feel rough or unfinished either. It’s somewhere in between. Comfortable, but not soft.
Days here don’t really follow a schedule unless you force one. You might start with coffee by the water, then decide whether to stay put or head out. The canal is right there, and renting a kayak makes more sense than overplanning. The water is calm, the surroundings barely change, and after a while you stop looking for highlights.
If you do leave, Håverud Aqueduct is close enough. It’s one of those constructions that sounds odd until you see it. Boats crossing above a road and a railway on a metal structure from the 1800s. It works, and it’s still in use.
On land, trails run straight into the forest. The Pilgrim Trail passes nearby, and there are smaller routes that lead to viewpoints like Skalåsknatten. None of them are crowded. You don’t need to time anything or book anything. You just go.
The seasons change the place more than anything else. Summer stretches the days until it barely gets dark, and the lake becomes part of everyday life. Autumn sharpens everything. The forests turn, the air gets thinner, and the silence feels heavier. Winter simplifies it further. Snow, still water, fewer distractions. Spring is quieter again, but in a different way, with movement returning slowly.
There’s not much here in terms of “extras,” and that’s deliberate. A small café downstairs, occasional events, local food that reflects what’s available rather than what’s expected. No attempt to turn it into a destination packed with activities. It stays close to what the place already is.
Spending the night inside the silo changes how you experience it. The circular shape does something subtle. Sound moves differently, light falls differently, and the space feels both contained and open at the same time. You notice small things. The texture of the walls, the way the building holds temperature, the shift in light across the wood.
For reservations and more information, follow this link
It’s not dramatic. It’s not supposed to be.
STF Upperud 9:9 works because it doesn’t try to compete with bigger, more polished places. It takes something ordinary, leaves parts of it untouched, and makes just enough changes to let people stay there. That’s the idea.
You come here if you want quiet, but not isolation. If you like places that haven’t been overexplained. If you’re fine with a bit of unevenness, as long as it feels real.
And after a night or two, that old silo stops feeling unusual. It just feels like a place you happened to stay. Which is probably why it stays with you a bit longer than expected.
