Meg Noble Peterson

We were greeted with heavy fog and mist, which kept the rocks wet and slippery and the trail treacherous. Again, it was poorly marked. Half the time it was little more than a stream, but that was fine with me, because the sun came out and it became very hot. We stopped at a small winter hut and forded several streams still swollen from spring runoff. After eating a lunch of bread and cheese near bushes of cloudberries—sweet yellow berries in a cluster of three, a local delicacy—we decided to take another hike up to a small alpine lake, Troll Lake (Trollsjon) through the beautiful Valley of Karkevagge. It was quite a bushwack to reach the trail, which was steep and rocky. I really appreciated the many small streams where I could wet my bandana to keep cool, and drink as much water as I wanted without fear of its being contaminated. Never had I seen such sparkling water and such lush vegetation. On none of my hikes did I have to carry a large canteen. I just kept filling up my small water bottle at every stream.

Many hikers were out to experience the perfect weather. I understand that it’s a rarity in this part of Sweden in the summer. Seems that winter is “the season.” By the time we’d worked our way up the trail and gawked at the unusual rock formations that seemed to have just tumbled haphazardly into the valley, I was ready for a swim. I put my feet in and out…abruptly. After a few moments I couldn’t even feel them! So much for the swim.

On the way down we looked more carefully at the massive rocks that covered the valley. Some were rounded and wore a mantle of moss and grass. Others seemed cut at sharp angles, stark and shiny black. I was reminded of Stonehenge gone wild, or the Badlands of South Dakota. We met several joggers with heavy packs (were they crazy?), which didn’t make us feel any better about our aching feet. But we made it down and headed for the railway station. It was a mile away and we’d have three hours to wait when we got there, so we stood on the highway between Narvik and Kiruna and put out our thumbs. A beautiful young woman picked us up, took pity on us, and drove us all the way to Abisko, the hostel that was our destination. Another angel from heaven. There we found a double room with bath. After dinner in the spacious dining room, we sat on one of the high verandas and watched the sun set.(click here for pictures)

The day we started our hike was an adventure in itself. We arrived early at the bus stop, but when no bus appeared we went into the depot only to discover that the bus was leaving from the railroad station, and was probably already gone. And the next one would not come ‘til noon. The agent was very concerned and apologetic, but there was nothing to do but run like mad toward the highway, hoping to hitch a ride. We got slightly lost ducking between old buildings and trying to find the highway, but suddenly Gullvi spotted a bus way down below in what we were to discover was the railroad station entrance. We started waving our arms and running, yelling like a couple of crazies. No way could we cut off and go down the hill, because of a high fence. Instead, we had to go around the long way. Breathless, we arrived to see the driver standing in front of the bus with a big smile and the greeting, “I thought you’d be coming, so I waited. The agent from the bus station called and said two ladies were in distress. I have a sixth sense.” And a big heart. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!

When we reached Bjorkliden Fjallby we stopped at the Hotel Fjallet and talked with a guide about our trail. The day was cold and foggy and the directions were anything but clear. Nor were the markers. A normal trail, unmarked in spots, and a winter trail shown by two red markers (like a slender cross) atop a tall pole. This was probably a ski trail in winter and went up and over a lot of residual snow. We even found another trail intersecting these two. But the hiking suited me fine, since it was cold. Rushing brooks and wildflowers abounded, and before we knew it we were at the foot of a tremendous ice field that stretched further than we were willing to go. There were no footprints and without ice axes it looked pretty dangerous. We were definitely lost, and even with our compass, were unsure of which way to go. Just as all seemed lost two figures appeared in the mist. Kim Madsen and Bo Mortensen, chemical engineers from Denmark, who took us under their wing. Together, we made it through several ice fields and over lots of jagged rocks to the summit. How grateful we were to our new friends! They went off to set up camp (it would not be the last time we’d meet), but we headed for a bright red cabin, Laktatjakka, for the most luxurious stay I’ve ever had in any mountain hut. A charming young hostess, a sauna, a fancy meal served with wine, and my second experience with the midnight sun. Pure delight.(click here for pictures)