The last time I reported on a long hike, I started with this:

It’s 2023, I’m 47. The last time I walked that much and that hard for six days in a row I was 25.

It’s 2025 now and I just turned 49, but the last time I walked that kind of distance was two years ago; the last time I was on the trail for that long was never!

Let me just say this first: The Sarek National Park in Swedish Lapland is absolutely stunning, drop-dead gorgeous. Glorious!

For those who don’t necessarily want to read the report but are interested in the picture highlights I’m going to start with a couple of highlight galleries this time.

The company

Who you’re hiking with matters. And again, I had the pleasure of hiking with a group of men who all inspired me in different ways, guys with interesting and sophisticated perspectives on a wide range of topics, and people I quickly knew I could trust in the wilderness.

Henrik

Henrik, our inclusive, cheerful and extremely well prepared Swedish native expedition leader. He was the one who came up with the plan and pitched it to Michiru. He had studied all the maps and knew half of them by heart. He had memorised the names of peaks, glaciers and rivers and new where to ford the latter as well as where to pitch the tents. He is also a machine who could have carried me through the friggin’ Sarek if it had been necessary.

Michiru

My long-time trusted hiking buddy, who always makes me calm with his stoic nature and then makes me nervous again with his experimental, almost contrarian, sometimes borderline risky equipment choices. An assessment he doesn’t fully agree with. It’s hard to imagine doing any bigger hiking adventures without him. I highly appreciate his lectures and our discussions about various topics in the broad areas of economics, coffee, ultralight equipment, sustainability or general philosophy of science. He’s a great teacher with the natural talent of adapting to different levels of pre-existing knowledge. Hours of walking can pass without noticing, when the right topic comes up.

Kelvin

Our Canadian. Why does that matter? Well, Canada is one giant epic landscape, yet Kelvin flew all the way to Europe for this hike. That says something about the reputation of the Sarek as well as Kelvin’s adventure spirit. He is an adaptable team player. He can stay in the background or take the lead, it doesn’t matter to him. He does everything in a calm, observant, well measured way and that includes drying the trousers he’s wearing with his hot food packages while the food soaks. He brought a chair to the hike but his pack was still lighter than mine.

Good old me

Fitter than two years before, but still not fit enough for the adventure at hand, instead equipped with pain killers of various increasing strength. I shall leave it to others to describe me as a hiking companion. I know one thing, I’m in constant awe in a place like Sarek and I talk about it.

Our packs and gear

This time, there was no food restocking for 8-9 days. That meant a lot more weight in food than ever before.

My pack — example of ultralight geared towards comfort

I took WAY too much food. I could have left 2kg of food behind and probably avoided some of the knee pain. But I learned a lot about food planning for longer hikes. My calorie-to-weight ratio and overall nutritional balance were good, but I was too afraid of a larger caloric deficit. It’s totally okay to run a deficit of 1,000 or more calories per day.

You can see my exact gear list on LighterPack.

Michiru’s pack — example of minimalistic ultralight

As usual, Michiru’s gear ist mind-bogglingly light.

You can see Michiru’s full gear list on LighterPack too.

Shelter

It was pretty much a Durston X-mid convention plus Michiru’s tarp. The X-mid is a great trekking pole tent that I’m not so easily going to switch out, especially now that I exchanged the lines with thicker, more storm-worthy ones. The only tents I would replace this with are some Hilleberg tents and I can’t afford these. Kelvin had an X-mid 2 and I think while the genius of the X-mid architecture works really well for the one person tent, it kind of already gets to its limit with the 2 person version. Getting it pitched nicely in windy conditions is maybe a little bit more challenging than you’d want it to be when it’s cold and wet.

Cooking & Food

On this trip I wanted to have the possibility to go solo if necessary (mainly if I felt I was holding everyone else back too much). So I knew early on that I was going to have a one person tent as well as my own cooking gear and menu. I went with the lightest possible gas stove, the BRS 3000T. It’s not very efficient in windy conditions but when you can cook in your tent vestibule, that’s not an issue.

This time I tested several brands of dehydrated food which I had never used before and was very happy with the Estonian brand Meki, which offers great calories/weight ratio and taste for affordable prices. For the future I would take dehydrated meals even for shorter trips. They are light, pack small and need relatively little gas.

The itinerary

Timing

We were on our feet from the 11th of August until the 19th. The middle of August is in many ways an ideal time for a Sarek adventure.

Approach

The Sarek is a remote national park which is not as accessible as other hiking regions in Swedish Lapland. My approach took me two days:

• Ferry Tallinn-Stockholm

• Night train Stockholm-Galliväre

• Bus Galliväre-Tjåmotis (roughly)

• Local taxi man Jens from Tjåmotis to an entry point at the end of the road

The route

We walked the perfect introduction route to the Sarek, the classic main route of about 110km from Aktse to Akka with elevation changes of about 4000m where you encounter other hikers and there are emerging paths to quite some extent.

The beginning and end of the route have huts, the Sarek itself doesn’t have any infrastructure with a few noteworthy exceptions.

Glossary

Reading maps in Sami territory is a fun challenge, it helps to learn some (norther) Sami words for that. Here are some examples, more for the sake of appreciation for the beauty of this archaic language than anything else.

• jávrre (lake, Estonians will see the relationship to järv)

• jåhkå (river, Estonian: jõgi)

• luoppal (widening)

• vágge (valley)

• várre (mountain)

• tjahkka (peak)

• gájsse (cone peak)

• roavve (ridge)

• vallda (slope)

• jiegŋa (glacier/ice, Estonian: jää)

Day 1: Trailhead to Aktse (16km)

Day one offers a walk on an easy path from the end of the road near Tjåmotis to Aktse Fjällstuga. This STF hut is located just outside of the border of Sarek and offers the first great views of the mighty Skjerfe cliff. The pack is heavy and the body unadjusted. This stretch feels longer than it is, but the view on arrival is both a great reward and a promise.

The hike from the hut to Skjerfe and back is something I highly recommend to anyone who wants to see the beauty of the Sarek while staying near the huts. It’s a full day adventure that offers some of the most epic views of the whole region. Overlooking Rapa valley from the edge of Skjerfe is truly awe inspiring.

The first night, Michiru and I stay in the hut as I have to justify my STF membership and want to enjoy the relative comfort and nostalgia of hut life while I still can.

Day 2: Aktse - Skjerfe - Ridok (17km)

The second day takes us up to the Skjerfe cliff where we enjoy the jaw-dropping views for a good while, before moving on into the Sarek on the high route across a boggy plane up a steep bouldery flank over a ridge towards our camp site behind Ridok mountain with a view back on Skierfe and the Rapa Valley.

We walk a bit over 17km that day with quite some elevation in the mix and a still heavy backpack.

Day 3: Ridok - Ráhpavágge - Skårkistugan (19km)

The hardest hike of the journey with just over 19km, some river crossings, a relatively steep decline down into the Rapa valley and an exhausting 10km walk along the Rapa river. The exhausting part is the crossing of countless small tributary river mouths where you either have to change shoes, get really wet, or jump (with 17kg on your back). In combination with the distance it really tires me out. It is supposedly still a lot better than the upper path which leads through the infamous bug ridden willow shrubs and consists of a whole lot of bushwhacking as we hear from other hikers and know from written reports.

In terms of scenery it is a very diverse stretch with alpine landscapes, glacier views, a steep descent along a Rapa tributary through a lovely birch forest and summer flowers in bloom. Then a close encounter with the bottom of the Rapa valley and the river’s silvery-blue waters.

The original plan had been to walk on and regain altitude towards Lådepakte, but to my great relief the others suggest we pitch our tents near Skårkistugan at the bottom of the valley. Skårkistugan is a locked up former research station that can’t be used as shelter, but there are some good tenting spots close by.

The night near the research station is our only chance to meet the famous Sarek mosquitoes but as we make a camp fire that night and Henrik (now being a proud new NATO member) erects an iron dome of mosquito defence around our camp site, we’re mostly spared the pleasure of this Sarek specialty.

Day 4: Skårkistugan - Snávvávágge - Bjelavallda (14km)

After breakfast we leave the valley floor and tackle the 450 meters of ascent to the Snávvávágge, the high valley that lets us avoid 10km of bugs and bushwhacking hell down in the Rapa valley.

Henrik takes off to scale the peak of Låddebákte (1538m) while we walk the length of the valley with the goal to get the day’s crux done before wind and rain arrive. The crux being a steep and rocky traverse connecting the Snávvávágge to the Bjelavallda. The traverse is exhausting but less exposed than expected and sturdy bushes give extra holds for the hands as well as protection.

The travers flattens out and we keep the altitude until we reach the flat and wide northern slope (vallda) of the Bjela mountain. It starts raining and we’re tired, the only almost-conflict of the hike occurs (everything descends into anarchy without Henrik) and we pitch our tents in the middle of the slope, making it hard for Henrik to find us later that night. The camp site is surrounded by imposing mountain massives on all sides. We’re very far away from human civilisation now and with the wind and rain picking up, I feel a bit of that naked exposure to nature and the elements that I’m simultaneously looking for and dreading.

Day 5: Bjelavallda to Skárjá (9km, rest day)

The rainy and windy weather as well as a storm forecast make the decision simple. We take a rest day and only walk the relatively easy stretch to the Skárjá emergency hut. Skárjá is the one place with infrastructure in the Sarek, there is a bridge over the mighty, roaring Smájllájåhkå, the hut and an outhouse. The hut is very small and badly insulated. All it contains is an emergency phone, some benches and a table. It gets overcrowded with more than 4 people in it and yet, the feeling of added safety in the imminence of the approaching storm is undeniable.

As a matter of fact, the next morning we would find a thoroughly soaked and miserable guy in the hut, who’s tent had blown off the ground during the night and failing to find his pegs and re-pitch his tent in the storm had then walked for 7km through darkness, rain and heavy winds to take shelter in the hut.

The night turns out as expected, heavy rain and storm gusts testing the tent and pitch to the limit, it’s 5° in the tent and the feeling of vulnerability is strong, the answer to the question “How did you sleep?” the next morning is “Many times.”.

Day 6: Skárjá through Ruohtesvágge (14km)

We wait out the worst of the weather and leave Skárjá around noon. We now enter the stunning Ruohtesvágge, a long as well as wide ancient glacier valley that offers views on a number of the Sarek’s ~100 glaciers.

This stretch contains some river crossings including the most challenging fording of the trip where we have to cross the Smájllájåhkå to its north-eastern bank in order to continue up Ruohtesvágge. It’s one of the fordings that - upon completion - warrants a high-five or some other form of celebration like a good Swiss yodel. We continue until the ruins of an abandoned hut that is marked on the map as Renvaktarstuga (Swedish for reindeer watching hut). Several structures are marked as such in the valley, this one is located on a little hill just about 1km from Ruohtesjávrasj (a little lake named after the Ruohte massiv that gives its name to the valley too).

We pitch our tents and meet up in the ruin for jokes and maintenance. The atmosphere is relaxed as we share a feeling of having escaped the jaws of Sarek unscathed. Everyone attempts to dry their gear as best as they can, innovative concepts such as crotch socks, drying your trousers with your food or drying socks with boiled water in Nalgene bottles are discussed. Henrik uses soap water to find a whole in his sleeping mat while the rest of us eat. Even as I cook a double portion of food in the general hybris, already a slight touch of nostalgia and loss mixes with the elation. Had I been challenged enough? We were still far from our final destination, but in some ways, the trip felt over that night, the rest of it was enjoyable de-proach.

Day 7: Ruohtesvágge to Gisuris (20km)

The longest distance on the whole trek, but the path is easy, the body adjusted and the packs relatively light. The clouds are still hanging low and we miss some of the potentially stunning glacier views especially towards Áhkká, the mother mountain. Yet the Ruohtesvágge is a mighty valley and doesn’t fail to impress either way. The landscape changes, the first birch trees start appearing as we approach the Gisuris hut that sits on the Padjelanta trail. To my disappointment, this is not an STF hut and payments can only be made in cash to a person with an uneven face and a barking dog. I should have pitched a tent like Kelvin and Hendrik but it is good for the group to have a tea tasting in the common room of the hut. We try all three of Michiru’s remaining teas that night and eat black chocolate in candle light.

Day 8: Gisuris to Akkastugorna (14km)

The scenery changes again, bushes and bogs, plank walks, a mighty river, bridges and finally the STF hut of Akka, we’ve made it. The hiking gods show us their approval with a double rainbow. We figure out that the boat to the other side of lake Ritsem (a lake entirely made by man for the purpose of hydroelectricity) is not going due to heavy winds. What better thing to do in heavy winds than calling a helicopter. We can’t resist and are soon after checking into the STF hut in Ritsem. The rest is warm showers, beer, terrible sausages (that are amazing) and de-proach discussions.

The next day we’d wait for the bus and walk another 6km through a cloudberry marsh around Ritsem with great views over the lake towards our recent past. My heart wouldn’t be totally in it and I’d think about how and when I might get back to the last wilderness of Europe, the magical Sarek.

Hiking as a metaphor for living and dying well

The Kebnekaise adventure in 2023 was all about the landscapes for me while being there as well as in the processing of the adventure. This time was different for reasons that aren’t clear to me. It was a lot more about the meta level or philosophy of hiking and how it feels to challenge yourself that way.

During the hike I pondered the meaning of walking in the wilderness with everything you need on your back. The simplicity of it. The clearly defined and yet intricate confrontation with just your body and the nature surrounding it. Hiking started to develop a deeper meaning for me than just being a hobby or a passion.

I realised that hiking holds powerful metaphors for living, aging and dying well, that hiking is a hard-but-patient teacher.

It is you and your body, the possibilities and limits are very personal, comparison with others is pointless. It’s always about the next step, nothing else really matters. You manage your body, you manage your pain, you take step by step and do your best to enjoy the changing scenery, fellowship, chance meetings.

The pace is always the one you can manage at that point in time.

While you walk, your perspective on the things around you changes with every step. You walk another few hundred meters and already you see everything from a surprising new angle.

They are perfect encapsulations of a moment in our family history and the current state of development of each child, they contain emotions, historic information and statements about relationships.

Here are the three drawings I got yesterday.

Riko (10)

Riko started drawing creatures the moment he could hold a pencil. Drawing creatures is his coping mechanism against over-stimulation. We have piles and piles of creatures at our home, but yesterday I was blown away again, as he presented me with this masterpiece.

I haven’t looked at every single detail yet, but my favourite feature so far is the look on the face of the monster that gets erased by another one, priceless.

Aria (12)

She has recently developed an interest in copying animals and has become quite good at it. Interestingly enough, I had a very similar phase at the same age. See how the swan is a lot more naturalistic while the other elements have a lot more of the naive style of drawing. I think it perfectly reflects this moment in time for her, the typical fluctuations of a pre-pubescent child between childhood and young adulthood, when the childish and naive start to be replaced by a more complex understanding of the world.

The drawing essentially mixes three styles, the naive childish two-dimensional style of drawing (clouds, sky, ground, little bird), a more realistic, three-dimensional drawing (the swan) as well as a more abstract, comic-like style for the sun (sharpie instead of pencil).

Lumi (3)

Lumi has drawn our family. It’s the first drawing of hers that has all of us in it I think. Even that cat is there (the heart-shaped figure), that she barely remembers. Aria makes sure nobody forgets to include him in family pictures.

Kommentar am 18. November 2025: Gestern wollte ich mir auf Substack einen Account einrichten. Beim Anmelden kam jedoch die Meldung, diese E-Mail Adresse sei bereits in Gebrauch. Der Account war jedoch, so dachte ich, leer. Heute fand ich zu meinem Erstaunen unter den Entwürfen diesen angefangenen Post aus dem Jahr 2015.

Grossmueti wollte mir das Harmonium schon immer geben, wenn es mal gestorben sei. Grossmueti lebt zum Glück zwar noch, das Harmonium habe ich aber trotzdem bereits bekommen und bin — ich muss selber schmunzeln — sehr stolz darauf. Einen grossen monetären Wert hat es wohl nicht, wohl maximal so um die 1000 CHF. Für mich hat es aber einen grossen emotionalen Wert. Es ist eng mit all den schönen Kindheitserinnerungen in der Kalchmatt verbunden.

Ende Juli 2015 habe ich hier in Estland einen Ford Transit gemietet, bin damit in die Schweiz gefahren und habe das Harmonium dort eingeladen, zusammen mit anderen Sachen von Grossmueti. Die Transportreise war extrem anstrengend aber auch sehr spannend und bereichernd. 

Auf der Fahrt in die Schweiz, nahm ich ein paar Mal “Autostöppler” mit, die sind besser als Kafi und haben sehr spannende Geschichten zu erzählen. Die zwei Jungs aus Lithauen (oben im Bild) sind aus Überzeugung Hausbesetzer, Stöppler, Abfallesser (und/oder Veganer) und politische Aktivisten. Kaum auf einer Autobahnraststätte angekommen, hatten sie auch schon einen ganzen Kochtopf voller Buffetresten organisiert, welche sie gemütlich auf ihrem Gaskocher wärmten, während ich ein gekauftes, halbgutes Sandwich aus seiner Plastikverpackung befreite.

Das war es dann auch schon mit dem Entwurf. Lustig. An dieser Stelle kann noch angemerkt werden, dass das Grossmueti nun schon eine Weile nicht mehr lebt, dass das Harmonium jetzt in meinem Büro in Tallinn steht und dass diese Road Trips mit Dänu zu einer wunderbaren Tradition wurden.

Der Zufall will es, dass eben dieser Dänu auch die Person ist, die das Harmonium in seiner bisherigen Zeit in Tallinn am schönsten hat erklingen lassen.

Two beautiful nights in a remote corner of Hiiumaa. 😍

Geneva and Aubonne. Fun and memories.

Happy Birthday

had a great time in Stockholm!

#willbeback

📍 Location: 59.3298, 18.0615

Love Tallinn wooden neighborhoods in autumn 😍

The kids built a reading castle 😍

A sad beauty to observe. This could have been saved and should have been. The location and surroundings are superb, but the manor seems beyond repair now. The Swedish owner doesn't seem to give a damn, but he has surely done a good deed for the giant pterodactylus* colony in the park. Every tree has several nests. *gray heron/hallhaigur/Graureiher.

#eestimõisad #estonianmanors #hiddenplaces #matsalu #matsalumõis

First mini forage of the season. The forest is amazing! Red polypore, scarlet cups, and a majestic tinder polypore. Also some abandoned field tool.

I've finally found the elusive Chaga, I'm super happy! And a great harvest of birch polypore as well. These are probably the two best medicinal mushrooms on the planet. Chaga is the king of all superfoods. Chock-full of anti-oxidants, antibiotics, etc. Now I'll have Chaga tea to get rid of my flue!

It’s 2023, I’m 47. The last time I walked that much and that hard for six days in a row I was 25. I’m home now, with an ankle tendonitis and a slightly overwhelming amount of priceless new memories. But let’s get right down to business.

The company

I look back on several multi-day hikes in Estonia with Michiru and a decent amount of hiking in Switzerland over the years. When Michiru invited me to join this summer project that Sergio and himself had come up with, I was immediately fascinated. After Axel joined the project we were four guys between 40 and 50, all reasonably but not exceptionally fit and all of us with previous multi-day hiking experience.

Our packs and gear

For me, watching the hikers on the Kungsleden was a never ending source of puzzlement about giant packs in the 20kg range. 🤯 I got the ultralight bug from Michiru years ago and even though I still lean towards comfort compared to Michiru’s extreme minimalism, my pack’s base weight for this trip, geared towards potential temperatures around 0, was about 6.5kg. Michiru’s base weight was about 5.1kg. Together with food for 5–6 days none of us carried much over 12–13kg.

My pack — example of ultralight geared towards comfort

You can see my exact gear list on LighterPack.

Michiru’s pack — example of minimalistic ultralight

Of course Michiru was carrying a lot more shared food in the beginning as well, which is included in my list but not in his.

You can see Michiru’s full gear list on LighterPack too.

Shelter

The only thing that differs from my list is the tent. I didn’t take my one-person Tarptent but we shared the different parts of my Big Agnes Copper Spur UL4, an amazingly roomy four person tent that weighs only 2.6kg. Michiru carried his 350g tarp setup in addition.

Cooking & Food

One thing you don’t have to worry about in Swedish Lapland is water, resp. the lack thereof. Due to the constant snowmelt and frequent rains it is everywhere (usually also in your shoes). Carrying more than half a litre to a litre of water is therefore pointless.

For cooking we used two ultralight gas stoves, we carried one large and one small gas balloon. For breakfast we cooked porridge and coffee. Everyone sweetened the porridge with whatever they had brought: dried fruit, chocolate, peanut butter.

Everyone took care of their own lunches, I had 750g of nuts, raisins and dried fruit as well as about 3–4 different types of bars per day (Flapjack, Snickers, Raw Bars, etc.). I prefer eating small bites while I walk and rather stay a bit hungry until dinner. The others ate more proper lunches for which they carried bread or tortillas, cheese, peanut butter, even fresh tomatoes and carrots.

Dinner was shared again. Heavier stuff like ramen in the beginning, light stuff like couscous and buckwheat towards the end. We added curry mixtures, fermented soy beans, sardines, broth cubes, olive oil, dried mushrooms, dried tomatoes, etc. to make the meals more interesting. We could definitely have gone lighter there, but we ate like kings (on the road) and it was awesome.

The Route

Approach

Our adventure started in Helsinki (we all live in either Helsinki or Tallinn). We rented a small car in Helsinki and took a night train with the poetic name “Aurora Borealis Express” to Kolari, FIN (14h train ride). From there we drove the 270km to Nikkaluokta, SWE where we parked the car. We added a stop in Kiruna, SWE to shop for some missing food items.

Inspiration

The original idea was to include the Jojoleden (Jojo trail) because Sergio had found an old hiking magazine in the waste paper which featured an intriguing article about it. After a bit of study, we concluded that this might be a bit too much for a first hike in the area, but we remain curious.

Here’s a translation of the Swedish Wikipedia page about the trail:

The Jojo trail is an unmarked trail for hiking and climbing in Kebnekaisefjällen. The trail is also called the three-pass trail, because it goes over three relatively high mountain passes. The trail runs from Unna Räitavagge via Kaskasavagge and Kuopervagge to Tarfala. The trail runs mostly in high alpine blocky ground and requires some experience and fitness. The northernmost pass, “Pyramid Pass”, requires easier, unsecured climbing (grade 3–4 according to the Yosemite Decimal System grading system), alternatively hiking on a fairly inactive glacier with a very steep gradient, which can be problematic and sometimes requires crampons.

The middle pass, between Kaskasavagge and Kuopervagge, has no special elements of risk but, like most of the rest of the trail, involves hiking in rough blocky terrain.

Due to the melting of the glacier, the southernmost pass between Kuopervagge and Tarfalastugorna has become more demanding. The difficulties lie in coming from the sections slightly southeast of Gaskkasjávri (Black Lake) down to the moraine ridge, where the trail returns to being normal mountain hiking. In these parts, you can either walk a few hundred meters on the edge of the Kebnepakte glacier, for which safety equipment and glacier experience are strongly recommended, or carry out a short and easy climb on rocks facing the glacier. In August 2018, the Kiruna Mountain Safety Committee informed about the newly added risks regarding this passage.

Our hike

In the end we settled on a somewhat easier route with plenty of high alpine parts including the southern most Jojoleden pass mixed with more flat hiking on the Kungsleden and its variants. I’ll document each day separately below, but overall we walked roughly 90km with an ascent and descent of about 3500m. Days 2–4 were mostly in rough high alpine blocky terrain and very exhausting, days 1, 5 and 6 more on softer ground and lower altitudes and therefore easier on the body. We slept in our shelters on three nights, in Tarfala and Singi we slept in the respective huts.

The hike was a circle around the highest peak of Sweden, the Kebnekaise. We spent quite a bit of time between 1000 and 1500 meters of altitude, which so far up north feels like 3000m in the alps. Imagine standing on a pass at 1500m and looking down on three glaciers, one of the strange realities of this latitude.

Day 1: From Nikkaluokta unto the Čievrraláhku high plateau

The first day we only started hiking around 5 in the evening. In these latitudes that’s no big issue, darkness won’t fall. The first kilometres were easy walking in the valley towards the Kebnekaise Fjällstation, but after just 3km we left the popular path and started ascending towards the rarely visited Čievrraláhku high plateau.

Soon we left the forest behind, and then the path ended too. So far north the treeline lies at about 900m (200m higher than just 100 years ago). As we gained altitude, the clouds moved in and suddenly we were surrounded by white wetness. Soon we navigated with map and compass, a skill Sergio brought to the group and something I want to get better at as well. Finding a dry enough place for our camp started to look like a challenge. After 11km of walking and 600m of ascent we found a decent spot and built our first camp, already wet to the bones.

That night, after a late but hearty dinner, we went to sleep in the clouds without the faintest clue about our broader surroundings. It turned out to be the coldest night of our hike with 5 °C, our layers and sleep systems were tested right away, mostly successfully.

Day 2: Over an unnamed pass to Tarfala

The second day started exactly like the first one had ended. In the clouds. I had tested a trick from YouTube, where you dry your socks by keeping them between your skin and your base layer. It had worked, so I got to put on dry socks, even though the shoes were still as wet as the day before.

Sergio started navigating the fog again, we were happy to move and then delighted, when an hour later, the sun started to burn the clouds away, aided by a steady breeze. As we made our path over rocks and a maze of omnipresent streams of snowmelt, the impressive vastness of the Čievrrajohka valley and the Čievrraláhku plateau unveiled itself to us. There was nothing but wilderness as far as the eye could see in all directions.

With the sun out, navigating became a lot easier and we made for the pass to the Tarfala valley. For some reason, passes around here don’t seem to have names. I’m sure the Sami have names or naming conventions for them, but maps don’t show anything. The pass we were looking for can be found between the peaks of Darfálčohkka (1904m) and Darfálčorru (1626m). Even in July, the flank that leads up to the pass is partly covered in snow.

Depending on your approach altitude, the pass itself is a 400 to 500m ascent through blocky terrain as well as snow. Climbing the pass is very rewarding as more and more of the great plateau behind you comes into view. Higher up the Kebnekaise massive with its glaciers starts appearing on the other side.

On top of the pass there is a small weather station, the first sign of civilisation we had seen since the start and probably an outpost of the Stockholm University’s Tarfala Research Station. It was nice and sunny on the pass, we took a break and dried our shoes and socks, before tackling the steep and pathless descent through blocky terrain to the Tarfala mountain cabin, 500 metres below us.

That night we became proud members of Svenska Turistföreningen, a membership that already almost paid itself off with the discounts for staying at different huts. We bought ourselves a warm bed, a drying room for our equipment and, above all, the right to use the world’s most amazing sauna with a 360° view on mountains, glaciers and the lake.

Special shout-out to Hanna, the volunteer warden of the cabin! She was ready with lemonade and a payment terminal when we arrived. Her hut was in top-notch condition, her advice was sound as well as encouraging!

[What a] Day 3: From Tarfala along Kebnepakte glacier over the pass to the Guobirvaggi (Jo)

On day three we had to decide if we would attempt the third Jojoleden pass, the one with the scrambling. Hanna told us we could do it (“but it is your own decision”) and the weather played along. We were slightly nervous about it, but really wanted to go. Luckily we did, this third day was the highlight of the whole hike for me.

In hindsight I’m still not sure if it was difficult or dangerous. On that day, with the conditions we had, it was not. It was a long, hard hike, but the snow lips along the lake were soft (no crampons needed) and the scrambling part was short and dry. Clearly conditions can change over night in the mountains and what seemed relatively easy that day can become dangerous and very difficult the next.

One thing is clear, it’s a spectacular hike

First you walk along the cold green lake, then up the side moraine of the Kebnepakte with stunning close-up views of the glacier itself, then you scramble and reach another unnamed pass (1440m) from where you start descending into the breathtakingly wide ancient glacier valley of Guobirvaggi.

From a Saami poem by Nils Aslak Valkeapää (translation: my home is my heart, it migrates with me).

High alpine blocky terrain

A lot of our route for day 2, 3 and 4 was pathless and lead us through endless fields of hard, lose rocks. This is the most exhausting, ankle-wrecking, and mentally tiring type of walking I’ve ever experience. At every step the rock you chose can move. You need to have your core activated at all times so you can react and balance at only a fraction of a second’s notice. The next potential misstep is literally always one step away.

The Guobirvaggi

I’m giving this valley its own little chapter, because it impressed me so much. I even made myself guilty of attempted poetry.

I was exhausted when we arrived at our camp. I remember that Axel cooked a great meal again and conjured up the most incredible ingredients from his overloaded backpack. And then I must have gone to sleep. I don’t remember anyone entering the tent after me, there were no dreams, I had turned into one of those rocks for the night.

Day 4: Kebnekaise summit attempt through Singivaggi

Even though the title picture of the beautiful Singivaggi seems to belie it, if day 3 had been awe-inspiring, breath-taking and poetic, then day 4 was more about athletic achievement. Including failure, pain, and learning. I also have very few pictures from that day.

Day 3 had been a long, hard 10 hour hike. On day 4 we wanted to climb Sweden’s highest mountain, the Kebnekaise (2’096m). In order to achieve that, we would need to walk for 14 hours including a 1400 ascent and the same descent through — again — pathless blocky terrain. This is an athletic feat, even for fitter people without an ankle inflammation, even with a rest day before, even with great weather.

You guessed it, I (we) couldn’t make it. After 4–5 hours of brisk walking and roughly 700m of ascent, I started feeling extremely tired and the pain in my ankle got worse. When it also started raining and the clouds started moving in, we realised we wouldn’t make it, or might make it up, but would not have the reserves to get back down (rather essential ;).

Learnings:

• plan the peak for the first or second day

• plan a rest day before (and after)

• leave early in the morning to have buffer for long rests

• it’s ok to turn around, it’s part of safe alpinism

Day 5: From Singi to Kebnekaise Fjällstation

Nobody really wanted to get going that day, except for Sergio, he already wanted to be done with the daily walk. This should have been a rest day, but we still had about 30km to walk and only two days to do it. After a while, the beauty of the Kungsleden drew us back into the hiking mood while our bodies reshuffled themselves into working order. Which can’t be said about Axel’s shoes (nor feet). I think it’s safe to say that this doesn’t qualify as “gutes Schuhwerk” (good footwear, a term Swiss and Germans really like), but the man survived with incredible pain tolerance, staying power, and ingenuity.

Hiking on the actual Kungsleden and its side trails is very different from what we had done the days before. It’s much flatter, greener and technically less demanding, yet still varied and captivatingly beautiful.

The Kungsleden is one of the most popular long distance hikes on the planet, so when we came down from the high valleys after three days and joined that popular route, we felt a bit like returning to civilisation. But reality is far from that. Even though you may see a lot more hikers, you’re still in the middle of Europe’s last great wilderness. There is practically no human infrastructure here, apart from the huts and the glacier research station I mentioned before. This is Saami land, the Saami don’t build.

These are the wide lands where the Saami, at least those who still follow the old ways, gather the reindeer every autumn. The rest of the year, the reindeer roam free, but in October and November, they’re gathered in large herds so the Saami can take what they need, as is their tradition. The reindeer is to the Saami what the buffalo was to the Native American, the most important source of everything they need to survive the hard winters beyond the arctic circle - food, clothes, as well as cultural and religious artefacts.

There are thought to be about 1'000 Sami words devoted to reindeer appearance, behaviour and habits.

Day 6: From Kebnekaise Fjällstation back to Nikkaluokta

The last day consisted of another 15km easy walk in nice weather plus a pleasant 5km boat ride along the Láddjujohka (river) into the Láddjujávri (lake). When I asked the boat man if I could pay in cash, he answered “cash is king” and smiled. 💸 Has been a while, but in the wilderness it’s still true.

Soon after the lake, our loop closed and we walked the last few kilometers on a path known to us. But while the path was still the same, the hikers on it were a quite a bit more tired, tougher, smellier, and a lot richer.

We played a game with Riko and Aria today. Collecting animals on my phone. It was a lot of fun. It's amazing how many things you start to see, when you slow down in the nature.

Day 3 of 6. Part one. From Tarfala up another unmarked path over the side moraine of a glacier over lose rocks. The crux to reach the pass was either walking over the side of the Glacier or scrambling around an exposed ledge. We are not equipped or trained for glaciers, so we scramble. This pass can only be crossed with good weather conditions and we got lucky. The views just kept getting better.

First visit to Kihnu, it's pretty here!

📍 Location: 58.1372922922, 24.009172731855

Took a friend to one of my favorite spots on this planet.

Fire and ice. Kentmanni rooftop in midsummer when the clouds are moving in.

📍 Location: 59.436642177034, 24.755214659074

Anneli took this amazing picture during our evening beach outing today. Dad and the younglings ❤️❤️❤️

📍 Location: 59.432822711395, 24.34901567972

Two days of alpine glory with the boys. It rarely gets better than this.

#hiking #alps #berneroberland #friendship