Distance: 21.9km / Elevation Gain: 597m / Elevation Loss: 904m
Staying awake late enough to even give ourselves a chance of seeing the Northern Lights was proving to be quite a struggle, and so once again Maurice set her alarm for 1am. At some point before that we were both woken by howling wind and driving rain … “I think you can cancel that alarm” I muttered to Maurice before rolling over and going back to sleep. We were well secured with pegs and rocks and I was confident that our Hilleberg was more than up to the task of keeping us safe and warm.
The next thing I knew it was 6am and time to get up and get going. We planned to leave everything in the tent and speed hike up to the summit of Skierffe, returning to basecamp for coffee before breaking camp and heading back down to the Kungsleden. At 1,179 meters, Skierffe is not Sweden’s highest peak but its is arguably its most iconic. The western face of the mountain is an almost vertical cliff which, if the weather plays nice, offers spectacular views over the Rapa River, Laitaure Delta and the vast wilderness of Sarek National Park. The final push to the summit isn’t particularly steep or technically challenging but it is very rocky which can be slow going with a weighty pack. Without one we were like a couple of mountain goats, making light work of the tricky terrain. In next to no time we were at the top and peering over the precipitous edge. The view down to the delta below was beyond superlatives. No photo can truly do it justice; the only way is to go and take a look for yourself!
With all of the obligatory shots taken, we headed back down to camp for coffee. On the way we played spot the tent, which proved to be much harder than we had anticipated. I am constantly amazed by how far a couple of kilometers looks when you can actually see the whole distance in front of you … a tiny distant dot was our tent! As we began to break camp the clouds rolled in and the rain started. We had been really lucky to get the view before it was swallowed by the weather.
We headed back to the Kungsleden with a smug sense of satisfaction as we passed many hikers who were unlikely to be as fortunate with the weather. We saw Francois who was heading up with his usual enthusiasm and seemingly endless love of everything that the trail had to offer. I glanced back in wonder and awe at the size of his shambolic pack. He looked like a walking Christmas tree with all manner of stuff hanging off of it. We also passed Ron, the young Israeli guy who we had met on the Bussgods at Boden. It was so great to see people again along the trail, it added a wonderful community spirit to the trek.
Making our way across the fells, the winds blew the passing showers through quickly and it was almost impossible to get the layers right. It was classic “wait a minute weather” which called for much donning and doffing. Just before we started our descent down to the lake and our second mandatory boat crossing, a sign informed us that we needed to call ahead for a motorboat. Rowing was (thankfully) not an option at this crossing. The route across the lake was not straightforward and involved navigating through a couple of shallow rocky areas. Apparently a number of hikers had managed to get themselves stuck on the rocks and required rescuing so the STF (Swedish Tourist “Fingy”) had taken the rowing boats away. We placed the call and asked very nicely if the boat might find a way to come before the 5pm scheduled time as we didn’t much fancy sitting around waiting for 4 hours. Hopefully the Boatgods would be as kind as the Bussgods.
The descent from the plateau took us back into the birch forest and along a series of very dilapidated boardwalks. The rotting wooden walkways were quite treacherous in places and slowed our progress in an unexpected way. We reached the southern shore of the lake by 1pm and discovered a gaggle of hikers impatiently waiting. We made lunch to kill the time, others amused themselves in a variety of ways … 007 fished for trout, Walking Pole read a book and Happy Hiker went skinny dipping! As time passed it seemed less and less likely that an early boat would come, so we settled down to an afternoon of enforced rest.
As time passed more and more hikers arrived at the little jetty. Right on cue, the ever enthusiastic Francois came shambling along, full of “wows” and “oh my gods” for the fun he’d had up on the fells. Next up came the English girls, full of significantly less enthusiasm and a lot more opinion. In total there were now 16 of us waiting to cross … “we’re gonna need a bigger boat” I thought to myself. On the dot of 5pm two small motor boats came skimming into view; a posse of southbounders disembarked and we clambered aboard with packs and poles. The boat ride took no more than 10 minutes and when we reached the northern shore we were all fleeced for 380SKR (almost 30 quid) per person! By my rough calculations, this entrepreneurial couple were clearing the best part of £2,000 a day, in cash, for less than a hours work. With no option to row, this wasn’t profiteering, this was racketeering and it left us all feeling pretty shafted.
After the shafting we decided to press on along the trail to the next good water source. It had turned into a beautiful evening, warm with clear skies and little wind. The trail was easy going and smooth underfoot. We reached a lovely clearing next to a stream, set camp and feasted on Spag Bowl with Rice Pudding to follow. It was Maurice’s turn to get up for the Aurora!
ZENLIGHTENED VOYAGER 