Spökstenen spooked me

I get up late because that’s how we role. Walking the rest of Álggavágge is a breeze. Almost like flying. Really. Fording Guoperjåhkå is more like fun than anything. But I’m glad I still have my neoprene socks, that Johan convinced me to keep. They will come in handy quite a lot the next days. I notice two guys quite a distance behind me. Is it the supposedly gay couple I met at Stáloluokta? We‘ll never know, they never catch up with me.
I make it to Skárjá and Mihkastugan. More and more people, heading in all directions from there. The creek tumbles down a deep canyon dramatically. Nothing I hadn’t seen before but still something that leaves an impression. The trail is even more pronounced now. But it’s more than one and which is the right one? I don’t want to end up in Bastavágge! After some doubts and confusion here and there I convince myself I’m on the right one. And more and more I realize I’m getting closer and closer to that steep part that leads into Snávvávágge. If I want to make it to Rappadalen there’s no other way than make it through that. Well, unless I’d want to cross between some serious mountains off trail. A hiker couple coming the other direction. Should I ask how bad it is? I decide against it. What if they’d say it is bad indeed then I’d worry myself and there’s no gain in that.
The closer I get, the more it looks like it’s much more relaxed than I thought. I’m relieved. Babies, it’s for babies! Until I realize I’m not as far as I think I am and the horrible section is still ahead of me. And faster than I can think I find myself in extremely steep terrain, bushwhacking over rocks and boulders, those willows either preventing me from falling or trying to push me off the cliff. I should have packed my trekking poles. They are more of a hindrance than any help. I look back and „oh no, a storm is brewing and heading towards me“, I think. A slight glance if panic. I try walking, or rather stepping faster. But to no avail. I have to take it slow, step by step. One wrong step, a slip and the outcome could be seriously bad. Spökstenen (the ghost stone) sits down, calm in the valley and laughs at me. „Come join me!“ it might think. But not this time, my friend! As everything else in this world also this steep section has its end. Soon it’s „just“ a very steep uphill path that eats a lot of energy and sweat from my precious resources but that’s something I can deal with. I make it up into the basin. Wind is getting stronger and stronger. My shirt is drenched from my own sweat. A bad combination. I’m getting cold very quickly. After a bend a calm spot. A perfectly protected camp site but a family has taken it already. „I don’t mind you have the best spot in this whole valley, I want to make it all the way to the other end anyway“ I say to myself while taking a short break. 100m further down the path I find a pleasant spot by the lake and pitch my tent.Read more