Lapplandsresa 2002-08-10/17

Dear Marianne. (Marianne Stippich, En Peircivuat, CH 1615 Bossonien FR)

With relatively fresh greetings from the mosquitoes and bogs in Lapland, Werner, his friend and colleague Richard, and I made an ”anniversary hike” on the occasion of it being 35 years since Werner and I hiked together for the first time in Lapland. Back then we were not entirely alone either; it was a group of 14 people with whom I acted as a pretend hike leader from Vakkottavaare to Abisko Turiststation. The intention was to repeat the journey, but we are no longer in the same condition. Werner had also miscalculated somewhat; we would have to walk continuously, without any rest days at all, to reach Abisko within the allotted time. Now we opted for a slightly shorter variant because Werner is not so strong in his back – he practiced the new walking style and brought ski poles. According to sports brochures, you lighten your body weight by about 8 kg for each pole and step.

The journey started somewhat chaotically; we were supposed to take the same plane from Arlanda, but the good and punctual Swiss arrived an hour late with Swissair from Zurich, and I had to fly ahead of them to Kiruna. At the last moment I tried to hold the plane, and saw how they (who were going to Kiruna – 10 people besides Werner and his friend) came driving in an airport bus to try to catch it, but by then our plane had already received the order to take off and it couldn't be stopped.

I spent the evening in Kiruna walking around town looking at the sights. In the center, these consisted mostly of people from the area and some tourists. The ”natives” are usually of the sturdier sort, the males with substantial ”beer bellies” and mostly wear those shiny leisure clothes. The tourists looked somewhat lost, as usual.

The following morning, time was spent watching competitions in gold panning. It was an annual recurring event with participants from both Sweden and Finland. There were 16 teams; most seemed to know each other from before, and both Finnish and Swedish were spoken. The participants also looked roughly as scruffy as real gold prospectors; many had substantial body shapes and large black hats. The hats were adorned with a considerable number of badges from all the gold panning competitions they had taken part in. The majority were in the older middle age, but a few young people also participated. The event took place just below the hotel, where there was a small artificial stream, and its water was used for panning. Each participant received a bucket of sand, in which there were supposed to be a number of gold grains, and these were now to be panned out against time.

”Have you found any grains?” I asked a sturdy Finnish matron with a gold prospector’s gaze.

Jaa, tet plev nåkra korn för mycket så jak har kastat port en del! svarade hon

in a mixture of Swedish and ”meitin kieli”, one of the new official languages in Sweden (besides Romani, Yiddish, and Sami).

In the morning, Werner and Richard arrived, and we boarded the train to Gällivare, from there the bus to Vietas, and took the boat ”Akka” for transport across Lake Akkajaure to Saltoluokta Turiststation at the Akka massif. We arrived just in time to have a sauna and eat dinner. The evening was celebrated with Werner treating us to a bottle of wine. The next day we set off back across the lake to Vakkottavaare, where the hike was to begin. We weighed our backpacks; my backpack showed 17 kg, and the others slightly less.

The ascent from Vakkottavaare is steep, at times very steep, and it took considerable effort to get up onto the high mountain plateau. We had to stop many times, turn around and ”admire the view”, i.e., let the lactic acid in our legs subside and our breathing catch up. Once up on the plateau, however, there were no problems; the trail is indeed very rocky and hard on the soles of the feet; at first they became quite tender despite our thick rubber soles. There were few hikers; we met only two couples and a lone wolf. He wasn't walking on the trails but had taken his own routes straight across the mountains. The stretch Vakkottavaare–Teusajaure is only 9 km; it took just a few hours to get there. In the cabin there were only a couple of girls heading towards Vakkottavaare; then another pair of girls arrived, also ”outgoing”.

My old Sarek boots from the 70s had worn out a few years earlier, and I got a pair from my good friend and former colleague Rune Lundquist. He complained that they were too small for him, and when I tried them on for a day at Lilla Fredrikslund they seemed to fit me perfectly. Size 43 has always been my size. Now it was different. After I had walked a few miles and my feet had swollen, the footbeds had become damp, I couldn't pull off the boots myself and had to ask my hiking companions for help. Werner had to hold the boot between his legs, I pushed with the other foot against his backside, and when the boot came off it was like pulling the cork out of a bottle. It just went ”puff” – whether it came from me or the boot I'll leave unsaid. After that, I had to use the thinnest socks so that it would be at all possible to pull off the boots after a day's hike. Something must have happened either with the shoe industry or my feet; previously size 43 always sufficed and there was no trouble. Now when I looked more closely at the boots, they turned out to be very narrow in the arch. The boots were marked Sarek-Tretorn, but were probably made in Italy, for Italians' narrow feet and low arches. It was a struggle every evening with the boots, and the trouble did not stop until we reached Abisko, where in the shoe rental store I managed to exchange my boots for a pair one size larger.

”You have much more expensive boots than the ones I have here,” said the girl in the store.

”I don't care about that,” I replied, ”the main thing is that I get a pair”

of boots that can be pulled off without needing an extra pair of men to do it. Besides, I probably won't wear out these boots anyway.

The next day's stage was initially just as difficult. From Teusajaure, the ascent is as hard as from Vakkottavaare, and we again had the opportunity to admire the view several times, more than necessary. The day was pleasant, small woolly clouds floated across the sky, just enough wind to keep the mosquitoes away, and a general feeling of well-being. We rested by a small lake, boiled tea, and ate our lunch. Toward the Kaitumjokk there is a long slope with occasionally difficult boulder fields to cross. Inside the boulder area we met a Polish couple with two children. The wife had an infant in a carrier on her back, and a boy about 4 years old walked on his own. The man carried the rest of the gear. They did not sleep in the cabins but had their own tent, and the pack looked both large and heavy, but the man seemed cheerful and content nonetheless. They came from Abisko Turiststation and had been out for a week. We shared some of our chocolate bars with the family. Across the Kaitumjokk there is a suspension bridge, and there we sat for a while admiring the river. Here it is quite swift, and it would not be entirely trouble-free to cross it at high water. Now the water level was quite low; most of the rain had been in Lower Norrland, we learned when we reached ”civilization”. There it had rained quite violently; the rain had washed away roads, bridges, and houses, causing major traffic problems, which also affected us when we were to travel from Abisko Turiststation to Narvik. The train was two hours late, and ”Tågkompaniet” (as that part of the railway company is now called after all the breaking up of the old SJ) drove us by bus to Norway.

Upon arrival at Kaitum we ate our lunch, and since we had started early and didn't feel particularly tired, we decided to continue our hike to the next stop – the cabins at Singi. It was 13 km, but no steep ascents this time, only a rolling high-mountain plateau. The trail runs mostly along the Kaitumjokk; it is quite bushy and a real mosquito he…e. Werner gets a bit hysterical when there are mosquitoes. As soon as he hears a faint whine from a mosquito, he wants to walk without stopping, but that is not very advisable. On the rocky trails, your soles quickly become tender, and if you go on too long you reach a state of indifference. That is not good; you can lose attention and misstep, then you might fall and hurt yourself badly – it would not be a soft landing. I had to curb his progress somewhat and recommend pauses now and then. He is a teacher and used to being in charge, but I have experience as a hike leader and managed to convince him of the necessity of resting occasionally. Late in the evening we arrived at the Singi cabins. They too had become a total of 4, and there was no shortage of sleeping places there.

The Singi cabins are located at the turnoff towards Kebnekajse Turiststation, and here there were somewhat more people, including a group of French youths from the Paris slums with a leader whom no one could mistake for anything but a Frenchman. There were about fifteen youths, and they were well-disciplined; it would hardly have been possible for a single leader to keep track of that many Swedish youths. These days, discipline among children in this country is so-so. After dinner we began to look more closely at our onward journey and realized that Werner had ”sich ein wenig verrechnet”. It turned out that we would have to walk every day – without a rest day – and it would become too monotonous. The plans were to be revised, and that's what happened here. We would turn off toward Kebnekajse and try to get to the top – if the weather would be favorable to us.

The next day we made a journey ”eastward” – toward Kebnekajse. It is 15 km, and the trail goes all the way through valleys and along a river. Here there were more people; many take a couple of days' hike and go the route Kebnekajse – Singi – Sälkästugorna and back to Kebnekajse. The weather was good for hiking, sunshine now and then, quite fresh wind, and no mosquitoes.

Upon arrival at Kebnekajse Turiststation, there was life, many people, and a real market atmosphere. The station has been expanded to 200 beds – common dormitories, self-catering kitchens, and a dining room, tent sites, etc. Naturally, we took a sauna bath in the new, fancy sauna before going to the dining room to get some nourishment. There we were served moose steak, and later also a bottle of wine at Richi's expense.

The social life in the evenings is usually not very lively in such places; most have been hiking and are quite tired, while the next day's exertion awaits. In the morning the weather was cloudy, so no trip to the Kebnekajse summit; instead we took some provisions and my Trangia stove and set off towards Tarfala. That makes 12 km on a sometimes rather strenuous trail. Once there, we sat down by Lake Tarfala (despite Werner's protests – he had heard a mosquito nearby) and were about to boil coffee. I had bought a can of Gevalia instant coffee and poured it into a coffee pouch of Sami design. When I opened the pouch, a small smelly lump came out; instant coffee doesn't tolerate air. The powder must have some additive to sink so quickly; not even uranium powder in its natural state sinks readily. At several industrial fairs I have made inquiries about the additive, but everyone asked has assured me with one voice that it is pure coffee. Believe that if you want! I am almost certain that in a few years someone will ”raise the alarm” and say that instant coffee contains carcinogenic additives. All other food products today must have a declaration, but on the instant coffee can there is none.

The rest stop was a nice place, right by the lake, and we played like children, jumping on snow (ice) floes that floated on the lake. Unfortunately, the place also gained attention a couple of days after our return. An older pair of men (50 and 80) had apparently been influenced by tourist brochures and “do it yourself”, set out on a glacier climb and been struck by bad weather. By all accounts they did not have enough equipment with them – nor the fitness for such adventures. A distress call went out and a rescue patrol was deployed. The patrol managed to get them down to a ledge further down the mountain where they were to be picked up by a helicopter. The operation took place at night and even though it is still fairly light, it is nevertheless difficult for the helicopter. It came too close to the mountain wall and the rotor struck the cliff, with the result that the helicopter crashed and three younger men (two pilots and a flight mechanic) lost their lives. Now the two survivors will live with the knowledge of having caused the death of three others and the loss of a helicopter. Later it emerged that one of the tourists was a certain NN Brandt, a longtime person responsible for Abisko Fjällstation. In Abisko there are no such cliffs and he probably overestimated his ability to walk in more difficult terrain.

On the way back from Tarfala I broke a number of birch twigs and made a bath whisk – now we were going to bathe according to a Finnish standard model. There were several people in the sauna and when we came in with our bath whisk it aroused a certain interest. After we had whipped ourselves with the whisk, several became interested and after frequent use of it, only a few twigs were left..

The original plans included visits to both Abisko Turiststation and Narvik. Werner and Richard wanted to see the Swedish iron processing and once we had returned to Kiruna we visited the Kirunavaar-Luossavaara mine. For tourists there is a demonstration mine and a very good museum about the operation. This year Kiruna turns 100 years and since the mine is “everything” in Kiruna this was given extra attention. Ore mining has been going on for 100 years and today operations are at a depth of 1000 metres. The mine has about 300 km of asphalted roads. There are 11 ore trains per day to Luleå and Narvik with 42 wagons in each set. The mine is an impressive facility with its machines. For tourists, trucks that carry 15 tonnes at a time and lifting devices for bringing the ore up to the surface were demonstrated.

The next day we went to Abisko Turiststation and stayed there overnight. There, if possible, there was even more people than at Kebnekajse, and not only those who could manage to walk 12 km from Nikkaluokta to Kiruna and back. Abisko Turiststation lies at a railway station and many older people, old mountain hikers, come there to do day trips to Torneträsk or take the cable car up to the top of Nuolja. Here too they had expanded considerably, only the main building remained from old times (the 60s and 70s).

As I have already mentioned, it had rained heavily in Lower Norrland and the trains weren’t working so we had to take the bus to Narvik. It was still sunny and clear – 20 degrees warm – a real summer day. On arrival in Narvik we “did” the city and looked at the loading station – only from a distance – unlike previous years. Now they had put up a large fence around the entire area and it was not possible to get close. We bought a bag of shrimp, bread and beer, walked in the direction of the passenger harbour and found a spot where we could sit and eat. It was some kind of refugee camp, we saw some dark-skinned people. In the passenger harbour there was a German cruise ship under Bahama flag. A mass of fat older Germans came out; they were going on a sightseeing trip to see Narvik. We tried to get onto the ship, but of course that wasn’t possible. It turned out that the entire crew – from captain to youngest mess attendant – consisted of Ukrainians from Odessa. They were quite satisfied with the work, but it would end when they got back to Germany; the ship was to be sold upon arrival.

The return trip to Kiruna went via the Ofoten Railway. It must have been a considerable achievement to build that railway 100 years ago. It climbs from sea level to a height of over 300 metres, crosses over countless bridges and through tunnels – a real sight reminiscent of the Swiss railways. In the compartment with us also travelled a South Korean woman; she lived in London and was going on a fairly long trip through Scandinavia, visiting both Finland and Denmark. In Finland she would visit Sodankylä to meet Santa Claus. She also had plans to travel back through Bulgaria and Romania.

The sun shone from a clear sky in Kiruna when we boarded the plane for our return journey to Stockholm-Arlanda. We had not had any need to put on our rain clothes on the hike in Lapland. When we arrived at Arlanda, however, we were met by a heavy downpour and were forced to finally take out and put on our rain clothes when we were to fetch the car from long-term parking. The rain continued all evening and the following night. Werner had wanted to go to the cottage straight away, but Ann-Marie, who still lived in town, persuaded him to refrain – pointing out that the hour was late and that it wasn’t very pleasant at the cottage due to the damp weather. The cottage had to be heated a little so that it wouldn’t be too damp and unpleasant.

When we woke the next morning the sun was shining and the world looked somewhat brighter than the evening before; now we could continue to the cottage. The guests spent the day looking at the surroundings, taking a sauna, and eating and drinking. Now the holiday for my friends was coming to an end and the following day I drove them back to Stockholm. Before departure we inspected the Vasa Museum and the Old Town. Werner very much wanted to meet Maria and Katarina. Maria came and we drank coffee at a café on Stortorget in Gamla Stan; Katarina was in France with her partner and his children.

At 15.30 Maria and I said goodbye to our friends; they were going to take the new high-speed train to Arlanda. Normally the trip to Arlanda costs twice as much as a bus trip, but in order to attract new customers, two people could now travel on the same ticket. With the new railway connection the trip now takes between a quarter and twenty minutes; by bus it takes over half an hour (depending on the traffic).

Here at the cottage life now goes its quiet course. Two years ago we renovated the large room in the cottage; now it has been the turn of the kitchen and entrance hall. It has been a lot of work, even though the cottage is small. The previous tenants had just glued and painted on without either removing any old wallpaper or scraping door and wall surfaces. Now I have had to do all that and found up to 6 layers of wallpaper and 3–4 layers of paint on doors. It has taken a lot of time and material, but now it is beginning to look reasonably acceptable. In the 60s, when panel doors arrived, they had nailed masonite boards onto the doors. I have now removed those and revealed the original shapes. On one of the doors they had, unfortunately, protruding filler strips; these they had simply cut down so that they cannot be restored and I have removed them entirely. The other panel doors now look much nicer, even if they are not completely smooth. Of the various paint layers, the bottom layer consisted of brown stain; the doors had a good many damages and it was not possible to restore them to “natural”. They have had to become white; that makes the cottage somewhat lighter since the ceiling is low. The door frames have a wishy-washy tone; Ann-Marie wanted them also entirely white, but I managed to get my way. I thought that with only white it would become too pale. Now the frames are blue and contrast nicely with the rest of the interior.

It is growing like crazy; one has hardly needed to water, but mow the grass all the more. When we

came back from the mountain trip the grass had grown so much that we could not use our “environmentally friendly” battery-powered lawn mower but had to borrow the neighbour’s somewhat more powerful motor-driven version. Now, however, the lawn is like a golf course “green”.

The fruit trees, which I got for my 60th birthday about ten years ago, have grown and have begun to bear fruit. Now we have three pear trees, three apple trees, four cherry trees and a number of plum trees, as well as quite a few different berry bushes: blackcurrants, redcurrants and whitecurrants, gooseberries and blackberries. Some years we have had a lot of blackberries; two years ago most of the blackberry bushes froze, but they have returned and this year (if there are enough sunny days) we will have an abundant harvest. Ann-Marie complains a little about all this abundance and says that soon there will not be room for all the jars in the cellar. I for my part think that if you have the chance you should grow enough that you don’t have to skimp during the winter. Now there are several tens of litres of various juices, jams and other goodies to bring out in the winter darkness.

Now on Saturday a good friend from the 70s is coming to visit. He is a Czech professor, who stayed with us in Studsvik and worked there on his doctorate. He was not allowed to become a professor in those days; his father had been a state employee in the “old” Czech state and Jaroslav (as he is called) did not have entirely the right political colour. I was a witness at his and his wife Vera’s wedding when they married in 1970 at Bärbo Church near Nyköping. I have had to act as a wedding witness for several couples: the Swiss Werner and his wife Felice, the Czechs Jaroslav and Vera, a Persian couple, Zia and Hosnieh Rouhani; (where the wife had an unpronounceable name and for simplicity’s sake we called her Hus Nio), our neighbours here in the countryside, Tonny and Gunilla Svensson-Waldemar, my colleague Gunnar Berggren when he married his Estonian childhood sweetheart, and for some refugee couples – mixed marriages between Russian women married to Afghans and Chinese. All (with the exception of the Russian-Chinese marriage) are still married to each other.

Now enough of writing; we are going to Nyköping to do shopping. Ann-Mari is also going to spruce herself up; she is going to the hairdresser to get her hair cut. It is still somewhat wavy and I have been spared seeing a wife in curlers – that alone is a blessing.