On January 7th, 2005, a powerful storm passed by the northwest of Ireland, gaining ferocious speed as it surged eastwards. By the next evening Storm Gudrun had reached southern Sweden, where it unleashed hurricane-force winds. What followed was the most devastating storm in Sweden’s history: 250 million trees toppled like matchsticks, 18 lives were lost, and 700,000 people were left without electricity. The disaster was a wake-up call, forcing the country to rethink and overhaul its approach to preparing for extreme weather events.
The scale of the destruction, with wind speeds of 165km/h, was of a magnitude unlike anything seen before. In a single night, parts of the landscape became unrecognisable. Locals awoke the following morning to scenes resembling a war zone; one woman described it to Swedish Radio, saying, “You get out on to these roads, and you’re lost; it’s all so changed, you don’t know where you are.” Within days, police reported 100 people missing, theorising that they had probably ventured along familiar paths and roads only to find them gone. Some lost their way; others fell into holes left by uprooted trees.
Locals had been warned that a storm was coming, but no one anticipated its scale. It was chaotic, and communities were unprepared. Forests were destroyed, with the entire annual timber harvest flattened in hours. Beyond the woods, roads became impassable, railway lines were shut down, and communication networks collapsed as phone lines and mobile masts took the hit.
Fixing the damage was a relentless task. Underground electricity networks remained intact, but the storm severely damaged 30,000km of overhead power lines, snapping 10,000 poles. It plunged much of southern and central Sweden into darkness for up to 35 days, and the government had to enlist the help of crews from 15 countries to restore power.
Storm Gudrun acted as a stark warning about the vulnerabilities in Sweden’s crisis response, infrastructure and forestry. It became clear that unless disaster preparedness and climate resilience were strengthened, the impact of future events would be even worse. And so, a new, climate-proofed power grid was built.
Thousands of workers were mobilised to weatherproof the lines, with much of the system buried in the ground. (Other countries have similarly prioritised grid improvements and national adaptation strategies. By 2036, Finland’s leading power grid operator will have buried 90 per cent of the electricity network, working alongside telecommunications companies installing fibre-optic cables to minimise cost.)
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The remaining overhead power lines were replaced with stronger poles and insulated wires, and the distance between poles was shortened with better anchoring to make them more resilient. Remote-controlled switches were installed, allowing electricity to be quickly rerouted. New laws were passed to fine electricity companies if power was not restored within 24 hours, which acted as an incentive to invest in upgrades. Rural areas saw an increased focus on distributed energy systems such as microgrids, which use solar, wind, batteries and hydrogen storage.
The Swedish Forest Agency reported that 80 per cent of the fallen trees were monoculture Norway spruces, a commercially grown species with shallow roots vulnerable to high winds. To incentivise mixed forests, forest owners received grants from a “storm-support” disaster fund to plant diverse species such as birch, Scots pine and beech, which have stronger root systems.
The collapse of Tetra, the emergency services' sole digital radio system linked to mobile phone masts, was alarming
New management practices were introduced for those who chose to continue planting spruce. Forests with trees of the same age, or those that were late thinned – where selected trees are removed to boost the growth of the rest of the stand – were found to be more susceptible to damage. The focus shifted to creating uneven-aged forests, where trees of different ages and heights grow together. This reduces the likelihood of significant storm damage in the future. Investors keen to safeguard the long-term value of their assets quickly realised that in the face of extreme weather, a diverse forest is a financially robust option.
To strengthen resilience, local communities in Sweden took steps to increase readiness for storms. Households are expected to manage for 72 hours without relying on the help of external services. Every September, the Civil Contingencies Agency runs Preparedness Week, educating the public on preparing for emergencies such as water, energy, food, communication and security. Radio and network communication has been strengthened at so-called safety points – meeting places where local people go in an emergency. Voluntary civil defence groups receive ongoing basic training in first aid, food handling, language skills and flood management.
In 2016, climatologist Kieran Hickey told an audience at an Irish Maritime History event in University College Cork that Ireland was “radically underprepared” for big meteorological events. Two years previously, Storm Darwin – described by Met Éireann as the worst in living memory – had torn roofs off buildings, leaving 260,000 homes without electricity and felling seven million trees.
In the wake of Storm Éowyn, Dr Hickey’s warning from 2016 holds true. At the most basic level, preparedness remains inadequate: there weren’t enough generators, leaving communities without water; the collapse of Tetra, the emergency services' sole digital radio system linked to mobile phone masts, was alarming, leaving people vulnerable; and concerns remain about whether the 28 Civil Defence units across the country – with 1,800 active volunteers when an estimated 2,500 is the minimum – are adequately resourced.
According to Met Éireann, when it comes to extreme weather, it’s not a matter of if but when they will happen again. Storm Éowyn is our warning; the costs of action might be high, but the price of inaction is incalculable.
