It’s 2023, I’m 47. The last time I walked that much and that hard for six days in a row I was 25. I’m home now, with an ankle tendonitis and a slightly overwhelming amount of priceless new memories. But let’s get right down to business.

The company

I look back on several multi-day hikes in Estonia with Michiru and a decent amount of hiking in Switzerland over the years. When Michiru invited me to join this summer project that Sergio and himself had come up with, I was immediately fascinated. After Axel joined the project we were four guys between 40 and 50, all reasonably but not exceptionally fit and all of us with previous multi-day hiking experience.

Our packs and gear

For me, watching the hikers on the Kungsleden was a never ending source of puzzlement about giant packs in the 20kg range. 🤯 I got the ultralight bug from Michiru years ago and even though I still lean towards comfort compared to Michiru’s extreme minimalism, my pack’s base weight for this trip, geared towards potential temperatures around 0, was about 6.5kg. Michiru’s base weight was about 5.1kg. Together with food for 5–6 days none of us carried much over 12–13kg.

My pack — example of ultralight geared towards comfort

You can see my exact gear list on LighterPack.

Michiru’s pack — example of minimalistic ultralight

Of course Michiru was carrying a lot more shared food in the beginning as well, which is included in my list but not in his.

You can see Michiru’s full gear list on LighterPack too.

Shelter

The only thing that differs from my list is the tent. I didn’t take my one-person Tarptent but we shared the different parts of my Big Agnes Copper Spur UL4, an amazingly roomy four person tent that weighs only 2.6kg. Michiru carried his 350g tarp setup in addition.

Cooking & Food

One thing you don’t have to worry about in Swedish Lapland is water, resp. the lack thereof. Due to the constant snowmelt and frequent rains it is everywhere (usually also in your shoes). Carrying more than half a litre to a litre of water is therefore pointless.

For cooking we used two ultralight gas stoves, we carried one large and one small gas balloon. For breakfast we cooked porridge and coffee. Everyone sweetened the porridge with whatever they had brought: dried fruit, chocolate, peanut butter.

Everyone took care of their own lunches, I had 750g of nuts, raisins and dried fruit as well as about 3–4 different types of bars per day (Flapjack, Snickers, Raw Bars, etc.). I prefer eating small bites while I walk and rather stay a bit hungry until dinner. The others ate more proper lunches for which they carried bread or tortillas, cheese, peanut butter, even fresh tomatoes and carrots.

Dinner was shared again. Heavier stuff like ramen in the beginning, light stuff like couscous and buckwheat towards the end. We added curry mixtures, fermented soy beans, sardines, broth cubes, olive oil, dried mushrooms, dried tomatoes, etc. to make the meals more interesting. We could definitely have gone lighter there, but we ate like kings (on the road) and it was awesome.

The Route

Approach

Our adventure started in Helsinki (we all live in either Helsinki or Tallinn). We rented a small car in Helsinki and took a night train with the poetic name “Aurora Borealis Express” to Kolari, FIN (14h train ride). From there we drove the 270km to Nikkaluokta, SWE where we parked the car. We added a stop in Kiruna, SWE to shop for some missing food items.

Inspiration

The original idea was to include the Jojoleden (Jojo trail) because Sergio had found an old hiking magazine in the waste paper which featured an intriguing article about it. After a bit of study, we concluded that this might be a bit too much for a first hike in the area, but we remain curious.

Here’s a translation of the Swedish Wikipedia page about the trail:

The Jojo trail is an unmarked trail for hiking and climbing in Kebnekaisefjällen. The trail is also called the three-pass trail, because it goes over three relatively high mountain passes. The trail runs from Unna Räitavagge via Kaskasavagge and Kuopervagge to Tarfala. The trail runs mostly in high alpine blocky ground and requires some experience and fitness. The northernmost pass, “Pyramid Pass”, requires easier, unsecured climbing (grade 3–4 according to the Yosemite Decimal System grading system), alternatively hiking on a fairly inactive glacier with a very steep gradient, which can be problematic and sometimes requires crampons.

The middle pass, between Kaskasavagge and Kuopervagge, has no special elements of risk but, like most of the rest of the trail, involves hiking in rough blocky terrain.

Due to the melting of the glacier, the southernmost pass between Kuopervagge and Tarfalastugorna has become more demanding. The difficulties lie in coming from the sections slightly southeast of Gaskkasjávri (Black Lake) down to the moraine ridge, where the trail returns to being normal mountain hiking. In these parts, you can either walk a few hundred meters on the edge of the Kebnepakte glacier, for which safety equipment and glacier experience are strongly recommended, or carry out a short and easy climb on rocks facing the glacier. In August 2018, the Kiruna Mountain Safety Committee informed about the newly added risks regarding this passage.

Our hike

In the end we settled on a somewhat easier route with plenty of high alpine parts including the southern most Jojoleden pass mixed with more flat hiking on the Kungsleden and its variants. I’ll document each day separately below, but overall we walked roughly 90km with an ascent and descent of about 3500m. Days 2–4 were mostly in rough high alpine blocky terrain and very exhausting, days 1, 5 and 6 more on softer ground and lower altitudes and therefore easier on the body. We slept in our shelters on three nights, in Tarfala and Singi we slept in the respective huts.

The hike was a circle around the highest peak of Sweden, the Kebnekaise. We spent quite a bit of time between 1000 and 1500 meters of altitude, which so far up north feels like 3000m in the alps. Imagine standing on a pass at 1500m and looking down on three glaciers, one of the strange realities of this latitude.

Day 1: From Nikkaluokta unto the Čievrraláhku high plateau

The first day we only started hiking around 5 in the evening. In these latitudes that’s no big issue, darkness won’t fall. The first kilometres were easy walking in the valley towards the Kebnekaise Fjällstation, but after just 3km we left the popular path and started ascending towards the rarely visited Čievrraláhku high plateau.

Soon we left the forest behind, and then the path ended too. So far north the treeline lies at about 900m (200m higher than just 100 years ago). As we gained altitude, the clouds moved in and suddenly we were surrounded by white wetness. Soon we navigated with map and compass, a skill Sergio brought to the group and something I want to get better at as well. Finding a dry enough place for our camp started to look like a challenge. After 11km of walking and 600m of ascent we found a decent spot and built our first camp, already wet to the bones.

That night, after a late but hearty dinner, we went to sleep in the clouds without the faintest clue about our broader surroundings. It turned out to be the coldest night of our hike with 5 °C, our layers and sleep systems were tested right away, mostly successfully.

Day 2: Over an unnamed pass to Tarfala

The second day started exactly like the first one had ended. In the clouds. I had tested a trick from YouTube, where you dry your socks by keeping them between your skin and your base layer. It had worked, so I got to put on dry socks, even though the shoes were still as wet as the day before.

Sergio started navigating the fog again, we were happy to move and then delighted, when an hour later, the sun started to burn the clouds away, aided by a steady breeze. As we made our path over rocks and a maze of omnipresent streams of snowmelt, the impressive vastness of the Čievrrajohka valley and the Čievrraláhku plateau unveiled itself to us. There was nothing but wilderness as far as the eye could see in all directions.

With the sun out, navigating became a lot easier and we made for the pass to the Tarfala valley. For some reason, passes around here don’t seem to have names. I’m sure the Sami have names or naming conventions for them, but maps don’t show anything. The pass we were looking for can be found between the peaks of Darfálčohkka (1904m) and Darfálčorru (1626m). Even in July, the flank that leads up to the pass is partly covered in snow.

Depending on your approach altitude, the pass itself is a 400 to 500m ascent through blocky terrain as well as snow. Climbing the pass is very rewarding as more and more of the great plateau behind you comes into view. Higher up the Kebnekaise massive with its glaciers starts appearing on the other side.

On top of the pass there is a small weather station, the first sign of civilisation we had seen since the start and probably an outpost of the Stockholm University’s Tarfala Research Station. It was nice and sunny on the pass, we took a break and dried our shoes and socks, before tackling the steep and pathless descent through blocky terrain to the Tarfala mountain cabin, 500 metres below us.

That night we became proud members of Svenska Turistföreningen, a membership that already almost paid itself off with the discounts for staying at different huts. We bought ourselves a warm bed, a drying room for our equipment and, above all, the right to use the world’s most amazing sauna with a 360° view on mountains, glaciers and the lake.

Special shout-out to Hanna, the volunteer warden of the cabin! She was ready with lemonade and a payment terminal when we arrived. Her hut was in top-notch condition, her advice was sound as well as encouraging!

[What a] Day 3: From Tarfala along Kebnepakte glacier over the pass to the Guobirvaggi (Jo)

On day three we had to decide if we would attempt the third Jojoleden pass, the one with the scrambling. Hanna told us we could do it (“but it is your own decision”) and the weather played along. We were slightly nervous about it, but really wanted to go. Luckily we did, this third day was the highlight of the whole hike for me.

In hindsight I’m still not sure if it was difficult or dangerous. On that day, with the conditions we had, it was not. It was a long, hard hike, but the snow lips along the lake were soft (no crampons needed) and the scrambling part was short and dry. Clearly conditions can change over night in the mountains and what seemed relatively easy that day can become dangerous and very difficult the next.

One thing is clear, it’s a spectacular hike

First you walk along the cold green lake, then up the side moraine of the Kebnepakte with stunning close-up views of the glacier itself, then you scramble and reach another unnamed pass (1440m) from where you start descending into the breathtakingly wide ancient glacier valley of Guobirvaggi.

Mu ruoktu lea mu váimmus
ja dat johtá mu mielde

From a Saami poem by Nils Aslak Valkeapää (translation: my home is my heart, it migrates with me).

High alpine blocky terrain

A lot of our route for day 2, 3 and 4 was pathless and lead us through endless fields of hard, lose rocks. This is the most exhausting, ankle-wrecking, and mentally tiring type of walking I’ve ever experience. At every step the rock you chose can move. You need to have your core activated at all times so you can react and balance at only a fraction of a second’s notice. The next potential misstep is literally always one step away.

But humans adapt fast, and we seem to learn to walk on this terrain as well. You learn to scan ahead and chose your rocks more wisely. Before you know it, you glide over these fields of large pebbles, like crouching tiger and hidden dragon. At least if you’re Michiru. For the rest of us, reality was more tiring. I got a tendonitis, Axel got terrible blisters and swollen feet. We generally learned that everything takes more time and energy in such terrain.

The Guobirvaggi

I’m giving this valley its own little chapter, because it impressed me so much. I even made myself guilty of attempted poetry.

Guobirvaggi

Here death is part of breathing, one.
Here there’s terror in beauty and beauty in terror, one.
Here you feel the lonely planet, how it hurls through cosmos, you hear the soundless roar of ancient glaciers and the gods are close, one.

I was exhausted when we arrived at our camp. I remember that Axel cooked a great meal again and conjured up the most incredible ingredients from his overloaded backpack. And then I must have gone to sleep. I don’t remember anyone entering the tent after me, there were no dreams, I had turned into one of those rocks for the night.

Day 4: Kebnekaise summit attempt through Singivaggi

Even though the title picture of the beautiful Singivaggi seems to belie it, if day 3 had been awe-inspiring, breath-taking and poetic, then day 4 was more about athletic achievement. Including failure, pain, and learning. I also have very few pictures from that day.

Day 3 had been a long, hard 10 hour hike. On day 4 we wanted to climb Sweden’s highest mountain, the Kebnekaise (2'096m). In order to achieve that, we would need to walk for 14 hours including a 1400 ascent and the same descent through — again — pathless blocky terrain. This is an athletic feat, even for fitter people without an ankle inflammation, even with a rest day before, even with great weather.

You guessed it, I (we) couldn’t make it. After 4–5 hours of brisk walking and roughly 700m of ascent, I started feeling extremely tired and the pain in my ankle got worse. When it also started raining and the clouds started moving in, we realised we wouldn’t make it, or might make it up, but would not have the reserves to get back down (rather essential ;).

Learnings:

• plan the peak for the first or second day
• plan a rest day before (and after)
• leave early in the morning to have buffer for long rests
• it’s ok to turn around, it’s part of safe alpinism

Even without peaking, day 4 turned into the longest and hardest hike of the 6 days… that says something about the original goal. Everybody was completely exhausted that night. We slept in the Singi hut, on the Kungsleden main trail.

Day 5: From Singi to Kebnekaise Fjällstation

Nobody really wanted to get going that day, except for Sergio, he already wanted to be done with the daily walk. This should have been a rest day, but we still had about 30km to walk and only two days to do it. After a while, the beauty of the Kungsleden drew us back into the hiking mood while our bodies reshuffled themselves into working order. Which can’t be said about Axel’s shoes (nor feet). I think it’s safe to say that this doesn’t qualify as “gutes Schuhwerk” (good footwear, a term Swiss and Germans really like), but the man survived with incredible pain tolerance, staying power, and ingenuity.

Hiking on the actual Kungsleden and its side trails is very different from what we had done the days before. It’s much flatter, greener and technically less demanding, yet still varied and captivatingly beautiful.

The Kungsleden is one of the most popular long distance hikes on the planet, so when we came down from the high valleys after three days and joined that popular route, we felt a bit like returning to civilisation. But reality is far from that. Even though you may see a lot more hikers, you’re still in the middle of Europe’s last great wilderness. There is practically no human infrastructure here, apart from the huts and the glacier research station I mentioned before. This is Saami land, the Saami don’t build.

These are the wide lands where the Saami, at least those who still follow the old ways, gather the reindeer every autumn. The rest of the year, the reindeer roam free, but in October and November, they’re gathered in large herds so the Saami can take what they need, as is their tradition. The reindeer is to the Saami what the buffalo was to the Native American, the most important source of everything they need to survive the hard winters beyond the arctic circle - food, clothes, as well as cultural and religious artefacts.

There are thought to be about 1'000 Sami words devoted to reindeer appearance, behaviour and habits.

Day 6: From Kebnekaise Fjällstation back to Nikkaluokta

The last day consisted of another 15km easy walk in nice weather plus a pleasant 5km boat ride along the Láddjujohka (river) into the Láddjujávri (lake). When I asked the boat man if I could pay in cash, he answered “cash is king” and smiled. 💸 Has been a while, but in the wilderness it’s still true.

Soon after the lake, our loop closed and we walked the last few kilometers on a path known to us. But while the path was still the same, the hikers on it were a quite a bit more tired, tougher, smellier, and a lot richer.