After I had wanted to attempt the tour a few days ago, this time it became a reality.
Three days prior, I annoyingly discovered that I was missing 4 booties. I decided to drive 70 km to Kiruna to get some from a dear acquaintance, Gerald. Unfortunately, my car broke down on the way there, and what was supposed to be a quick trip for booties turned into a two-day stay in Kiruna with Gjöran, my sled builder. He hosted me and, not only that, he also provided me with all sorts of tools to perform maintenance on my training cart. This was urgently needed. The brakes were replaced, and the claw (an additional brake) was re-welded.
Fortunately, my car was ready the very next day, with nothing broken except for a sensor. I then drove back to Nikkaluokta with the booties in my luggage.
The starting point of my hike was a large hostel with cabins, tents, and RV spots. It was located in one of Sweden’s most popular areas. I carefully considered when I wanted to start the trail. Nighttime is simply the best time for a dog trekker like me to be out in such an overcrowded landscape.
I double-checked everything in my backpack and went through my packing list. First aid kit, my camera, food for the dogs and me, booties, survival bag, gloves, hat, thermal jacket, and wind/rain jacket – everything was on board. Punctually at 6:30 PM, the eight paws and two legs set off towards Kebnekaise. This time, Freya and Yuka were allowed to accompany me.
In my head, the plan was to be back at the car in about 14 hours. So far, so good. But first it was along a narrow gravel path. Why gravel, anyway? Probably to give all hikers the feeling they can walk sure-footedly around here. We passed the boat jetty. From here you could save another 5 km to get to Kebnekaise Fjäll Station. Of course, this offer is only for those who are too stingy to take the helicopter, because for a mere 100 euros you can also fly the 19 km.
One way, of course. The offer is actually used regularly, because the heli flies several times a day between the two places. How people get the idea to do that is beyond me. No, not just that. I find it deeply repugnant that there are people who use a means of transport that demonstrably harms the environment and nature just so they don’t have to walk. We’re currently seeing the consequences of our actions in Germany, Greece and Russia, where we’re getting what’s coming to us and natural disasters are devastating entire regions. Every single fate still shakes me. But that is nature’s answer. When I see that, I’m convinced the bill we’re being presented with still isn’t enough for us to understand what we’re causing with our behaviour.
The continuing trail is beautiful, and after the boat dock, it also feels wilder and less manicured. As dusk fell, I came across what looked like a tent exhibition, as if globetrotters were showcasing their magnificent selection and equipment up here. Oh no, it wasn’t a tent exhibition. People were actually camping here, and then the Fjäll Station appeared before me. Up to that point, I must have seen 70 tents, packed tightly next to each other. I don’t really understand that either. You go out into nature to switch off, only to stand tent-to-tent and listen live to someone else’s snoring? My world is definitely different. I took a short break to munch on a banana, and someone told me that it takes about 15 hours up and back down. At first, I was startled. But then the following thoughts came to mind: dog trekking is different. You move much faster than the average person. A nice lady in Nikkaluokta also gave me a rough estimate of 6 hours for the ascent and 2-3 hours for the descent. After I left the last tents behind, I didn’t encounter any more hikers. I became increasingly immersed in the rush of nature. The loudly babbling river, the panting of my dogs, and the sound of stones under my feet completed the feeling. The ascent became rockier and steeper. After a bridge, the first snow appeared. Stairs made of large stone blocks marked the path. The steeper it got, the slipperier it became, because the snow had turned into ice under the hundreds of feet of other hikers, and I could already imagine myself dancing down here on the way back. Running down mountains is like dancing; you have to pay close attention to your partner (meaning the ground here) and find harmony with them to make it flow and sound good.
After a decent climb, the path then went down 200 vertical meters on firm, slushy snow, only to snake back up directly on the other side. It got colder and colder, and in addition to the thermal jacket, I was already wearing my windbreaker, hat, and gloves. Freya and Yuka were still pulling as if it were the first minute. In my head, I just wanted to reach the summit so I wouldn’t have to walk uphill any further. However, the light of my headlamp, reflected by the reflectors high up on the mountain, told me that I still had quite a few meters of elevation ahead of me. When a hut appeared before me in the dark, I knew I was directly below the summit. Upon reaching it, I saw the flat peak, towering over Sweden. I quickly made an entry in the guestbook, and then it was off to the top. Once there, I took 2-3 photos and looked around briefly. The view was so incredibly beautiful that for a brief moment, I forgot the real temperature of -7 degrees and the wind chill of -16 degrees. The slightly reddish sunrise was beginning. On the other side, the moon brightly illuminated the snow.
There it was again, the biting in my fingers that pulled me out of my dreams. I had to move them to feel them again. Freya looked majestically at the landscape and was not bothered by the temperatures up here on the top, while Yuka was already curled up trying to sleep. I packed my camera back into my backpack and started the descent. This proved to be extremely difficult, as the ice was very slippery, and where there was no ice, I slid downhill on stones. My dance partner certainly didn’t make it easy for me, and three times I even slipped and landed on my backside.
As the snow and ice disappeared, the three of us picked up the pace again. Slowly, fatigue set in, and my mind longed for sleep.
At 5 AM, we reached the Kebnekaise Fjäll Station, where the early risers were already out and about. From there, the path wound its way without any elevation changes all the way to Nikkaluokta. The last kilometers were quite grueling, as the signs revealed every single kilometer I still had ahead of me. My muscles yearned for recovery. Back at the car, I treated my two companions, Freya and Yuka, to a little massage before we fell into our well-deserved sleep.
The result: 57 km, 2000 vertical meters in 14 h 46 min.
