In which our heroes conquer Sweden’s highest peak and get rather cold.
After a shortish train ride to Kiruna, and a damp night of camping in the rain, we wandered into the tourist information centre to see what there was to actually do in the Arctic. Turns out we were only about 100km from the base of Kebnekaise, Sweden’s tallest mountain. I’m not sure who suggested that we climb it, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me. My companions mistook my incredulous stare for assent, and thus we set off on a four-day epic involving lots of knee-work, a fair bit of snow, ice, mosquitoes and falling down.
The first step in climbing Kebnekaise is to reach the fjällstation (base station / mountain camp), a 20km hike from Nikkaloukta, a tiny village which seems to exist solely to service fools like us. We took the bus there from Kiruna, and started the walk at a fairly lazy pace at around 3pm. After a detour, a swim in a snow-fed lake and countless peanut and carrot breaks, we reached the base camp, cooked yet another meal involving köttboller, and pitched our tent. It was a late night.
Following the argument that we should be well rested before attempting Kebnekaise, we slept til about midday, and finally set off at around 1430. The sun doesn’t set, here, so apart from temperature fluctuations, time of day is almost irrelevant. The path to the summit is only about nine kilometres, but over that time we reached an altitude of over 2111m and had to climb a smaller mountain on the way. The first serious climb was exhausting, but after that we settled into a rhythm. None of us are particularly well equipped for walking in snow or ice, so there was a lot of falling, sliding, and getting wet in general. When we set off, I honestly didn’t think we would make it to the top.
It’s strange that I’ve gone from seeing my first snow to being waist-deep in it in less than twenty-four hours. Most of the time we walked in paths already compacted by others, but once or twice I mis-stepped and ended up rather deeper in snow than I’d ever like to be again. During the last few hours, my boots were so full of ice that I was seriously worried about my toes. It’s safe to say that the money I spent on waterproofing my Docs was wasted. Stefan had it a little worse than me – he did the entire climb in sneakers. Catrina was the only one with water-proof boots, and she mostly led the way, with us following exactly in her footsteps.
After a little over seven hours of mostly-uphill slog over rocks and through ice, melt-water streams and snow, we reached the summit. The last forty metres or so, we took five steps at a time – Catrina digging her boots into the ice so that Stefan and I would have something to grip with our less-than-adequate footwear. Once there, we sat in the snow, let out a cheer and ate a celebratory bar of chocolate which had melted and re-frozen about five times over the course of the day. We took the western trail up Kebnekaise, which is longer but much safer than the eastern trail. Far, far below, we could see people on the eastern trail crossing one of the two glaciers that the western trail avoids.
The funny thing is, once we reached the top, it didn’t seem particularly hard. I don’t know what I was so worried about. With two companions, each of us providing motivation for each other, it never seemed in doubt that we’d make it.
The way down was, as expected, rather easier. We still had to climb one small mountain on the way back, but it was easy, knowing that it was the last uphill section. I have very, very loose ankles, and consequently I hate walking downhill. Walking downhill on ice or through snow is even worse. I estimate that I fell over at least once every ten steps for the first few kilometres from the summit. Twice I slipped around twenty or thirty metres through snow, which is scary to say the least, and with my pockets, shoes, underwear and gloves full of snow, I soon became very wet. I can safely add walking downhill through either snow or ice to my list of least favourite things in the world.
We reached the base camp at a little after 3am. A hot shower and a bowl of lentils later, and we slept very well. We rose about twelve hours later and made friends with some Australians in the communal kitchen at the base camp. If the weather is as good as it was yesterday, they’ll be climbing as I write this.
We made the 20km from the base camp back to Nikkaloukta in fantastic time – a little over four hours, fully loaded. We were in shade the entire time, which helped us maintain the pace. Also, we’d had a four-course meal raided from the free-food cupboard at the base station: hot rice porridge, pasta with tomato and pepper, a few pancakes with cloudberry jam, and a blueberry soup chaser. Very Swedish. At the other end of the walk, I cooked up an amazingly satisfying quick camp soup. It was so cold at Nikkaloukta that it was a hurry to eat the soup and get into our sleeping bags while we could still feel its warmth.
We were pretty proud of ourselves, all in all. I think our bodies are entirely programmed for walking, now – apart from the occasional problem of navigating rocky sections without twisting my ankles, my mind wanders while I do.
After a rather cold night at Nikkaloukta, we broke camp and took the bus back to Kiruna, to catch the train further north to Narvik and the Lofoten. We survived Kebnekaise with sore legs, good memories and an appreciation for warmth. If I was going to repeat the experience, all I would change would be my footwear.
We’re leaving Sweden this evening. We’ve been in Scandinavia for 15 days. We’ve slept three nights in beds, and have each spent less than €13 on accommodation.
No photos because my camera is broken. However, Stefan took a lot, which I’ll upload when I can.
Hot Soup for Cold Campers
Sautee a finely-sliced, large onion until soft. Use a lid to save fuel and keep mosquitoes out of the pot. Add two teaspoons garlic powder, two tablespoons chili powder and 1.8L water. Bring to the boil. Add one sachet mashed potato and half a cup of cous-cous. Allow to return to the boil, stir until smooth, and serve in whatever soup-holding crockery you can find.