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A Bavarian lost in Stockholm struggling with Swedish. Love hiking, being outdoors and my cat. 😻🍁🏔🏕🏳️‍🌈 (queer/bi/pan, he/him, they/them) Read more Stockholms län, Sverige
  • Ikke Kungsleden
    1
    Day 32

    Blown off the mountain

    August 17, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ 🌧 17 °C

    Nights in tents can be gruesome, just in case you didn’t know. This was one of them.
    I just fell asleep when I was woken up again by some thunder growling in the distance. “Oh no!”. “Do I need to be worried?”, after collecting the facts I conclude I don’t need to be worried getting hit by lightning. A fall asleep again. Soon rain starts hitting the tent and winds pick up. “Is everything secured and inside? I close the zippers. I reiterate how I pitched my tent. All six stakes are deep in the ground. This should do! A little while later and I wake up again from some stronger guests rattling the ridge of my tent. “Hmmmm”. I need to pee and it stopped raining. A good chance to check the stakes again. And maybe also add some of the smaller ones to stop the outer tent from flapping. “Just in case”. I decide to not deploy the peak guylines. “It’s not THAT strong after all”. I go back to sleep and an hour later the gusts definitely are THAT strong. It had stopped raining again so I got up and outside to stake out those extra guylines. I only have smaller stakes for those since unknown people on the internet claimed “that will do”. The tent seems more stable and I fall asleep again. With the help of earplugs now. A while later and those gusts shake my tent up and down, back and forth just as before. I tension the guylines. A while later and they are lose again. I check outside, one stake came off. Bummer. I drive it in with full force to its full length. “That should do!”.
    Hours later, the gusts got even stronger, my tent is shaking like a boat on high sea. “Ok, let’s settle this!”. I go outside and collect heavy rocks. Not only the guylines have come lose again but also the main corner stakes windward started to come off. It’s 4am. At least it’s not fully dark anymore. I have trouble staying on my feet when one of the gusts hit. “Jesus!”. I secure the stakes. Pee and go back to sleep. Two hours later and it’s like hell broke lose. I check outside, the windward guylines is lose again. I put another rock on top. “That should do”.
    I can’t sleep anymore. Half an hour later I decide to give up. No chance to get any sleep in this storm. It’s 12km to Abisko, 7km to the tree line where I suspect sheltered spots to be the latest. I put on all my clothes thinking back to that strong winds on top of that saddle two days ago. I pack up within minutes and leave without breakfast. First and foremost without coffee. Soon I start to sweat. Hiking in these conditions is exhausting. I’m hungry, weak and tired. And the wind is warm. Very warm in a weird way. A bit further down the “trail” (it’s just swamps, there is no trail, just the occasional cairns) I layer off at a shelter spot. I could pitch me tent here, but I’d still have no food and who knows how bad this storm gets? I continue. Make it to the end of this plateau and start to descend. “It soon will get better”, it doesn’t. The wind is stronger than ever. “What is this?”. I eat the last Müsli bar. I start feeling a headache. Is it the lack of coffee? Hunger? Or those warm winds? I remember that type of headache. I had it a lot as a child living in Bavaria. I reach the tree line. The storm still going strong. In a ditch, sheltered from the wind, I have my “breakfast”. I realized I can just have cold coffee and I eat whatever was left in my bag: some nuts, pieces of sausage, a piece of dried reindeer. Better than nothing. The lower I get, the lesser the storm, the wetter the ground. The moment I step out of the forest and set foot on the streets of the tiny village of Abisko the clouds burst and I get drenched in the worst downpour I’ve ever experienced in the Scandinavian mountains.    Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    11
    Day 31

    Lapporten never again

    August 16, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    The way down the canyon is much, much easier than what I remember. Most likely because I can just follow a recommended route now and don’t rely on my bad taste and wrong choices. The drama starts when I leave the marked trail towards east after the bridge. Well, not quite. It’s a lot of bushwhacking but I find the trail and it’s easy to follow. It gets more and more wet though. And soon I’m ankle deep in water and mud. My shoes turned into a pool. How I have missed that! And if that wasn’t enough it also started to rain. “Embrace the suck!”, they say. I’m not quite there to be honest. And I remember when five years ago this old German guy recommended this route to me. “So nice, you gotta love it!”. This after we talked about shoes, that he comes here since 20 years and the only right choice is rubber boots, implying mine are the totally wrong thing. I think he was just a malevolent, gloating, grumpy old man who wanted to teach me a lesson. As if it’s a good idea to send someone you don’t know anything about into a god forsaken area like this one. Quite reckless if you ask me. Risk the safety of some stranger for your own enjoyment. Can’t stop thinking about this guy while I scuff forward. I hope the trail gets better once it changes its marks on the map. It doesn’t. Maybe a bit less bushwhacking but to sum it up, it’s a shitshow. I remember there’s a river crossing coming, and I remember it was no big deal at all since I happened to hit the river just at the right spot by chance. Not so this time. It’s a deep, deep canyon with raging white water at its base. Is this the same place? I don’t recognize it at all. I have to backtrack a lot until a place that seems doable. Where it’s flat and wide. Once I climb out of that canyon and are high up enough I remember another thing, it’s all swamps around here. Swamps for the next several kilometers. It’s hell. Somehow I make it all the way to Lapporten. My feet wet, so wet, I drain my socks every now and then but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Tired and exhausted I give up. I won’t make it to Abisko today. It’s over ten kilometers left, it’s 8pm already and I’m just done. Weather is fine and I have no other choice anyway. I pitch my tent at the most exposed spot you can think of and enjoy a completely calm and quiet evening with a sky in the most phenomenal colors you can think of. Stake out my guylines? - “Nah!”Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    Day 30

    Mårma revisited

    August 15, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ☁️ 11 °C

    I get up late. Like most days. My legs hurt and I needed that sleep. Had to use earplugs because the river was so loud. “Maybe I’ll take a day off at Visttas”, I keep thinking. But once I started hiking I felt strong and energetic. I could have also taken an easier route, just up Visttasvággi and then through Unna Allakas somehow over to Abisko (without Kungsleden???) or to Riksgränsen? Or maybe Norway even? … too complicated and I feel strong enough to take the steep pass. When I arrive at Visttasstugan the host is doing their chores, a friendly woman tells me. I notice a small box with freeze dried food. “Oh-oh” I think already. I go search for the host and she lets me know that there is no shop anymore and all they have are a handful freeze-dried meals to chose from. Okay. Gotta get going then, I guess. I buy one package as an additional dinner, if I keep going I might be left with some energy bars as breakfast for the last day in case I don’t make it all the way to Abisko tomorrow. “Fill in the guestbook” she advises, “the pass is steep and not totally free from dangers, this way we know who you are and your itinerary”. I concur.
    The trail is wet but marked. I knew that already. It’s marked until it isn’t. I discover cairns just to lose them again. The way to the pass is steep and long. I’m sweating. At least yesterday’s sweat isn’t with me anymore. Weather changes. What started as a humid, warm and sunny day turned into sth gray with occasional cold drizzle. “Please don’t make it too slippery!”, my shoes are crap when it’s wet. You might as well just put bars of soap under your feet. Just before the pass I lose my beloved cairns again. GPS tells me I’m on the trail, heading the right way. But there it’s boulders and not just rocks. The size of SUVs. That can’t be the trail. And if so they are out of their mind. And now I remember, five years ago I came down far to the east from where I’m now. I also circumvented that hill I just came from. Much easier. I’m bummed. I look for a better path to the right and after a while I find cairns again. Easy! When it gets really steep I think “it’s not that steep after all” and go for what looks like scrambling. I regret soon but then it’s too late. I scramble my way up and over the pass. Just when I’m past the highest point I see one hiker, two, three, four! And a dog! Is this a party up here? Only one of them greets me, not the cute guy that came first. Bummer. I’m warned “take it slow on the way down, it’s steep!”. “Yes, yes, I know!”. To people who have been to the alps or similar it’s not that steep after all. And it’s easy to find a zigzag route down. The way to the cabin (under renovation) is well marked and from there even with red paint. Easy!
    I meet some Germans “how far do you want to go, there are great tent spots just around the corner”. Well, what I don’t do today I have to do tomorrow and I’m running out of food. So I torture myself and do another 5km or so until I find a great place to camp. I pitch my tent the wrong way so I keep rolling off my pad the whole night. Also I needed earplugs again. Well, well.    Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    Day 29

    Over to Visttasvággi

    August 14, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    The morning starts early but slow. I’m having breakfast in the roomy, but quiet kitchen. The wind still rattling. Did I clean my mess from yesterday properly? After yesterday’s precise sauna instructions I’m pretty much insecure about everything I do. Yesterday I was making soup, adding noddles to make it more worthwhile. While waiting for them to cook I study the pictures on the wall. They have old pictures from 1910 onwards documenting the glaciers. They once reached all the way to this basin. Like thick tongues licking on those fat moraines. Since the 60‘s you could clearly see how they started to recede. Not so unusual for glaciers. But that process continued and speeded up instead of slowing down. Stunned I hear a hissing coming from the stove. My soup! I created the biggest mess imaginable. Thank god no one’s here to witness but it takes me forever to clean up, no running water doesn’t help that process exactly. Just a few days later I’d repeat that procedure at the tourist station in Abisko.
    More people join my breakfast and there Anders reappears. He spent the night „ute“, just returned and thus is very tired but wishes us the best and asks if everything is okay. I don’t dare to ask what „spending the night outside“ means.
    The sky cleared up and it promised to be a sunny, beautiful day and so I backtrack to the research station where I expect to find that trail over to Gaskkasvággi. No cairns anywhere. I don’t want to spend too much time searching and just start my climb on what I believe is the least steep route up. 400m up in one go. It gets steeper and steeper, turns into a serious set of stretches where it’s just scrambling over loose rocks and stone. Not my cup of tea. But it looks like I’m not the only one who tried their luck on this route. A trail at least! Soon it begins to flatten out, I’m relieved. At the same time wind picks up noticeably and I start getting cold. I’m drenched in my own sweat. That isn’t helping exactly. Once I reach the top the temperatures are seriously cold and I understand that I need to find a solution or I’ll end up risking hypothermia. Can I wear my down puffy over my rain jacket? I give it a try and soon I feel a thousand times better. Phew!
    I look what’s ahead of me and all I see is rocks. Rocks, rocks, rocks. That’s worse than expected. Another six kilometers just climbing over rocks? I’m not amused but I’m not turning back either. At least there seem to be cairns now, I start walking following them when I suits me, losing them when I dream away. Rocks get smaller, rocks get bigger. I have to climb over several moraines, just below the actual Darfalglaciären. Some parts are quite dangerous actually. I would not want to be here in bad weather. But I’m smart and I would never be here if it had bad weather, right? I remember that I seriously considered continuing over here yesterday. What a fabulously stupid idea. No way to camp anywhere here and I’d gotten into storms and rain and would have had to continue all the way to Gaskkasvággi on my tired legs. I‘m so lucky and grateful for my aching stomach!

    I reach the shelter at Kaskavagge. Just a cabin. No stove, no nothing. I decide to sit in front in the sun and have lunch there. From now on it would be easygoing. I take a closer look at the map. Well. Still 8km to Visttasvággi and almost 13km to Vistasstugorna. And there is another 200m to climb upwards. Damn. But at least it’s all green and proper trail, well marked. Right? Well. Not quite. The first one or two kilometers are pure joy indeed but then it’s all rocks again. Just when you start the descend into Visttas there’s more and more soft ground. Until you reach the tree line and soon it gets wet. Of course!
    I still dream of reaching Visttasstugorna. They are said to have an amazing sauna. And a shop! I need to buy more food. I’m too slow, not making enough progress. I need one extra day! Damn!
    The trail after the bridge is really great to walk. For a short while. For most parts it’s quite hard actually. Lots of up and down, rocks and roots. And bogs and muddy puddles where you have to find your way around. Soon I realize I won’t make it in time for the sauna. My heart starts to sink. “Well, then let’s look for a great site to tent! There must be amazing spots!” But it’s just dense forest or swamps. Oh well. I keep on walking. “At least they have a shop”, I tell to myself. I’m mad at myself for leaving some awesome tent sites behind when I crossed that bridge. But then it would have been way too far for tomorrow’s stretch. Or I take a day off at Visttas. Or two? They have a shop. It doesn’t matter how long I stay.
    And there it is, that most amazing tent site, just what I’ve been looking for. Only a hundred meters to the left from the trail. By the river, small dry patches and it looks like a good bathing place. Who needs a sauna? At least I can wash all that sweat off and maybe even rinse my t-shirt. Fishermen seem to have camped here and left a lot of trash right next to that ugly and unnecessary fire pit they’ve built. That’s how you ruin an otherwise perfect spot. When I get out of the ice cold water, refreshed, happy, naked I see two hikers passing by, starting at me like “wtf?!”. Oh well. I’m sorry. No, I’m not.    Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    Day 28

    Tarfala

    August 13, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ⛅ 8 °C

    Left the mountain station after doing some resupply just to find that Christoph has been waiting for me outside the whole time since he didn’t want to leave our backpacks alone. Oh no! I felt so stupid. Poor Christoph!
    After he finished his chores while it was my turn watching the backpacks, we said good bye since he’s headed for Kebnekaise and would continue north along Kungsleden but also avoiding it as much as he could because of Fjällräven Classic. Too many people. I told him about Durlings Väg and he planned taking his gigantic backpack all the way up to Kaffeedalen and then over to this route. Sun was shining, no clouds in the sky. I congratulated him to this unique opportunity to climb Kebnekaise in such conditions. Five years ago I was just as lucky. Unfortunately later that day clouds drew in and painted everything gray in gray. We never met again so I don’t know how it went for him.

    I started walking towards Darfálvággi. Trying to be super smart I went off trail to avoid the masses from the other direction. After a while my brain got hold of enough oxygen to be able to evaluate my situation and it dawned on me that this was just a super stupid idea. Of course there was a stream and I knew that I’d have to walk along side this stream but on the other side. And there was a bridge. And usually there are good reasons to have a bridge, and so it was. That stream runs down a steep canyon, basically just white water. No way to just easily cross it. Shamefully I made my way down to the bridge, backtracking to join the official trail. Nice camp spots on the way but useless to me right now. The trail up to Tarfala on the other side is steep. At least with a full stomach. I start to realize my stomach is more than just full. Hiker hunger had gotten hold of me and I had been eating uncontrollably. “All you can eat”. Not “all you should eat”. Now I’m having deep regrets. Until then I was under the illusion I would reach the research station up there, take a look at the glaciers and already begin the steep ascend to that saddle above that is on the route over to Gaskkasvággi. Maybe I could camp somewhere in between?
    The closer I got the more I understood there was no way to find a camp spot anywhere. It’s just pure rocks. Everywhere. And the situation with my stomach wasn’t exactly uplifting either. Camp by Tarfalastugan? What would that place be like?
    But first I got to get a glimpse on all those glaciers. It was a devastating view. You could clearly see immediately how massive and impressive they once must have been and how thin and retracted they now are. I looked up their names. Storglacieren, Isfallsglacieren. Isn’t there also Rabots glacier? No. It’s not visible from here. Alright.
    From all the stunning I lost the marked trail and stumbled my way around the research station. At the very end of this valley lays Tarfalastugan. Thanks to the clouds, that have eaten up the wonderful blue sky from just a couple hours before, it looked like a dark and cold place. Hostile. All gray and brown. Is it even open? Is someone there? Using the tiny telescope I got some years ago I could see the blinds open. Hooray! I expected to be the only guest. But when I got in I saw some shoes standing there already. Turns out there were quite some people. Like four or so. Climbers. No hikers. Quiet people who don’t talk much. Especially if you’re not a climber it seems. Anders, the host is super friendly. He’s the nicest and sweetest guy. We speak Swedish and he explains he lives in Stockholm too. That they now have a sauna (whaaaaat???!!!) and that he’d heat it up immediately but that I’d have to find my way around on my own since he’s going to visit his son and won’t be back before a couple of hours later that evening. What? Well, guess I don’t need to understand everything.
    Back to the main cabin, while unpacking, some guy approaches me and explains in shiny details the exact sauna rules. When I reply that I kinda know and that it is not the first time having sauna for me, he elaborates, now in English, that the day before some guests misbehaved in the very worst way (“not refilling the buckets of water”) and went off telling me that we’d run shifts and that I’d be the first to go. “Too crowded otherwise!”. We’re just five but hey!
    The sauna is brand new. Electric. Now that they have electricity, thanks to new, stronger power lines for the research station, they can afford such luxury. But of course at the cost of the old charm of wood fired stoves and gas lights. Can’t have it all, I suppose. The sauna at Teusajaurestugorna is still my favorite. Wood fed, can’t beat that. Or wait, the one at Stáloluokta was even better.
    Since I had the room to myself after those other two climbers left it for some room of their own, I open windows to get fresh air in and sleep like a baby. Until I wake up because I need to pee. Those cabins don’t have toilets. You need to go outside for that. But it’s raining and there is a storm rattling the blinds of the cabin. Sigh.    Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    1
    Day 28

    Kungsleden

    August 13, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    My stay at Saltoluokta was fabulous as always. Had dinner twice. First evening they served gurpi, a traditional Sápmi dish of reindeer meat and lard. It looked awkward like dark bread or shoe sole but together with that blueberry sauce it was truly delicious. The next day they had fresh fish from local lakes with browned butter. A dream! Of course I took advantage of their sauna. The only set back was when they wanted 300kr (30€) for using their washing machine. I just said “thanks but no thanks” and opted for the hand wash.

    The last night the wind picked up seriously and I was afraid the boat might not be leaving the next morning. It did but over at Ritsem their rides got cancelled. And when we (made friends with Christoph from Germany and we took the same boat and bus) climbed out of Vákkudavárre onto the high up plains before Dievssavjávrri we got almost blown off our feet. And then it started raining. Not amazed. I was longing for the shelter on this side of the lake since I assumed there will be no boat picking us up today. Just to find the shelter burnt to its metal remains. Bummer. Headed down to the lakeshore and realized the wind had gone. The lake with still and it was just half an hour to their regular ride. I set the semaphore hoping for the best. Christoph arrived just minutes later and after a quick chat we could see the cabin host on the other side entering the motor boat. Joy, joy, joy. I was already set on staying by the cabin this night and not continue just for the opportunity to dry up at the cabin when the host invited us to their sauna. A sauna? Again? Heaven!!!
    The cabin was full of Germans and we made lots of friends. Sauna was awesome, we had some beers and fell asleep very satisfied. Who would have thought after that awful weather?

    The next day on Kungsleden was rather unremarkable. Yes, Kungsleden is awfully rocky, yes I’m painfully aware. I swear to myself to never set foot on it again (we know how that will end, right?). I had a very nice chat with the host at Kaitumjaurestugorna. Continued hiking just to get worried again when winds picked up and clouds promised rain. No sheltered spot to camp anywhere and climbing up to that plateau between Tjäktjajohka and Kebnekaise fjällstation didn’t sound like the smart thing to do either. But then rain clouds cleared up and we continued stubbornly. It worked. We found a somewhat sheltered spot to camp up there by the lake and the views were just truly great. Had forgotten how steep and dramatic those mountains are. The next morning light and atmosphere were even better but hard to catch on fotos with just a smartphone camera. Sorry!

    Continued down to Kungsleden’s side trail to Nikkaluokta to face the inevitable: Fjällräven Classic with full force. Hundreds and hundreds of people coming from the other direction. Somehow I made it to the mountain station and took advantage of their all you can eat lunch buffet. I should regret this dearly.    Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    Day 24

    Hiker legs do what hiker legs do

    August 9, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C

    Well. The alarm rang. Half asleep I stumbled those three kilometers down to the lake where the boat would pick us up. I had forgotten how rocky Kungsleden was. Horrors. At the other side I had my breakfast and then walked those 20km to Saltoluokta in less than five hours without stopping. Bam, sauna here I come! Taking a day off.Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    11
    Day 23

    Skierffe, mfas

    August 8, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ⛅ 9 °C

    Forecast predicted a sunny morning. And maybe an overly good day. What this be the day I make it up Skierffe, the mountain with the best view on earth? I’ve been there twice already just to understand that with so much clouds and fog it wouldn’t make any sense to take the effort.
    How far is it? Maybe 15km. I might be able to do it, if just the trail is good enough. Despite the detour I would take to avoid the climbing part that Hartmut warned me about. Despite several stream crossings that promised to be potentially tricky. The first one was a no brainer. It was served on a silver plate more or less in front of my tent. The next one? I happened to stumble right upon more or less the best and only far and wide point to cross. Really? And then the last one. Just when I got close I noticed a guy climbing out of the canyon and there I had my answer where to ford. No big deal! Erik, his name explained that I’d just have to follow cairns from here on and they would show me a safe and easy way around that mountain with that very steep part. Easy!
    And there I stood, right at the foot of Skierffe. The sun shining, just some clouds. Could it be true? A glimpse later and I stood on top of Skierffe. Somewhere between here and Rappadalen I just have found my hiker legs again. I was basically flying up that mountain. Or was it just the anticipation?
    The view was stunning, overwhelming. There are no words for it. Close to crying I turn to that woman that is taking pictures just as frantically as I do “it’s silly to take the very same picture over and over again but I guess that’s the only way to convince yourself this moment is real”. She agrees with a big smile and takes a few more. Occasionally my fear of heights kicks in heavily, it’s 600m straight down. I manage to keep it at bay. “You’re not ruining this for me, not today!”. We agree it’s a once in a lifetime occasion to stand here in that weather, sun shining, no wind. There is just one more other couple up here. I had expected loads of people, especially in that weather. But not today. I won’t complain. After half an hour I get too cold and decide to leave. Buoyantly I make my way back down convinced I would make it all the way to Sitosjaure today so I could take the boat early in the morning tomorrow and I would be at Saltoluokta a day early. My hiker legs said yes, I went off trail, cross country for an uplifting shortcut that would beam me through an almost flat, easy to walk landscape, past a large herd of reindeer that I didn’t seem to bother too much. Exhausted but incredibly happy I pitched my tent right before the forest starts and set my alarm clock to half past six. Piece of cake!    Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    Day 22

    Hartmut aus Berlin

    August 7, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ☁️ 8 °C

    Slept longer than planned. Convinced myself I deserved it. After that adrenaline kick the day before I was a bit scared of the way down from this plateau. For no reason. Skoarkki had decided to dress itself in clouds and fog to add to its dramatic appearance quite convincingly. I could get a good peek at Rovdjurstorget but no animals in sight. Bummer! Have to come here one day and spend a day or two just observing.
    Down at the bottom of Rappaätnå’s valley, the famous Rappadalen I have a short break just where the path splits for that old, now locked cabin and the actual trail down the valley.
    Half an hour down the trail I notice an old guy coming my way. Using a robust wood-stick that he is leaning into heavily with every step. He reminds me a bit of Gandalf. I say “hello!” - he answers “deutsch?”, and so the conversation started. He’s redoing a tour he had done 35 years ago together with his wife. I assume she’s dead by now since later he mentions a girlfriend and I don’t dare to ask. No bad vibes! His name is Hartmut and judging by his dialect he’s from Berlin. He’s 70 years old, carrying a 35 kilo backpack. I figure it’s to get as close to the original tour as possible. Maybe in remembrance of his wife? “She wanted a divorce back then” he informs me pointing at all the thick bushes and underbrush and whatever else grows there. “But on the train back home we were already planing the next trip to Sarek”. He warns me about a very steep passage that it easy to bypass but that the path he was following lead directly into it without warning. He was with a young German couple by then and while climbing through that passage she started to cry and eventually they turned around. Obviously he continued though. 70 years old with a 35kg backpack. Okay!
    I pulled out my map so he can show me. He needs his glasses first. Looking at the map he seems impressed “So many details! All I had back then was a rough sketch I took from a book!”. Oh my god! Pretty sure there was no footpath to follow either. So how did they do it? With a 35kg backpack. “I want a divorce!” sounds like the most reasonable thing to me.

    We say goodbye, thanks to him I decide to leave that jungle at the first occasion and I was very happy about this decision. Quickly I climb back up into the mountains following a dry and easy to walk path. Of course I pitch my tent early. Found a perfectly protected spot close to the next crossing and after I had another stormy night before this was just what I was longing for.    Read more

  • Ikke Kungsleden
    Day 21

    Spökstenen spooked me

    August 6, 2022 in Sweden ⋅ ☀️ 5 °C

    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

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