Alright boys and girls, we are finally back on the trail! This time we are headed North – far North – all the way up past the Arctic Circle and into the remote reaches of the Swedish backcountry. Even the official home of Santa Claus (in Finland) is further South than the Kungsleden, and that guy is a magic Snow Wizard. And, just to keep it interesting, we are going to be racing about 2000 other hikers who are right behind us! So hold onto your butts and grab your reindeer jerky, you’re gonna it.
First, some brief explanation. We accidentally booked our hike to start at almost the exact same time as a huge, yearly hiking event called the Fjallraven Classic that brings over 2000 people to the Kungsleden, doing the same hike as us. I simply cannot bear the thought of hiking with so many filthy casuals, but by the time we realized our error it was too late to change our reservations and I had a total meltdown in Basel. Eventually, brave Jon pulled me back from the brink and we decided to modify/shorten our hike (from 110 miles to 70 miles) and actually race those Fjallraven bastards. To that end, we started in the exact same place as all 2000+ of those people with just a day and a half head start.
Which brings us to the overnight train from Stockholm, which is the booking that led to all this. It’s a journey of about 750 miles and 17 hours from Stockholm to Kiruna and tickets are limited, so keeping our spot was essential. Spending all day on the train ended up being a pleasant, if weirdly disorienting, way to reach the top of Sweden. Our bunks were oriented perpendicular to the tracks, so when the train would rock side to side we would rock towards our head and towards our feet laying down. Now I know it’s possible to be dizzy in your dreams.
From Kiruna, we took 2 more buses to finally reach our trailhead at the tiny outpost of Nikkaluokta, around 4pm. By then I was feeling practically hungover from motion sickness, and it was perhaps 50 °F and raining – but don’t forget this is a race! After a brief stop to confirm we didn’t have any sort of map and I was the worst planner ever, we started walking anyways. At least the trail was easy and flat, despite the weather. We managed to find a campsite and eat dinner before it started raining in earnest overnight, but we stayed relatively dry and warm regardless.
The next morning, we grudgingly put back on our wet socks and shirts from the day before and set out, once again, in the rain. We got an honest, arctic circle experience, and walked in fog and cold, wet wind pretty much until late afternoon. It wasn’t all bad though – the weather added a certain mystique to the already surreal, desolate beauty of the arctic. It reminded us of the pictures from the surface of Mars, or walking on the surface of some alien world in a sci-fi movie. It’s hard not to feel a sense of exploration of the unknown, like in the next valley the clouds will part and you’ll stumble across some grazing dinosaurs or the Castle Aaaaahhhhh.
The clouds finally lifted by the evening and we started seeing our first Swedish mountain tops. It never really gets dark in the Arctic Circle (in the summer, of course), so even at 8 or 9pm we still had clear views around our campsite. It was also nice to have daylight left to help us relocate our tent after we chose a poor pitch to start – it was “too beautiful!”, as I like to say. But where do you put your tent on a windy night out in the middle of the barren, arctic wastes? I still don’t know, but eventually we relocated the tent a few times (fully setup with our stuff inside) and found a spot that wasn’t too lumpy, or too windy.
The next morning, Jon and I both woke up to sunlight weakly beaming into the tent. Thinking sunrise had finally brought an end to the rain, we rolled over, said a groggy good morning to each other, then checked our phones and realized it was only 3:30am. Damn tilted Earth! We tried to throw clothes over our faces and go back to sleep, but it’s hard when your brain insists it’s 8am and not 4am.
Some hours later, we got out of bed for real and got back in the race. I can now welcome you to the Kungsleden valley proper. All around you is endless, glacial valley marked only by snow-melt rivers and rare patches of brave, arctic flowers. There are a handful of Swedish Mountain Associate huts along the way, but for the most part you’re more likely to see a herd of reindeer or an approaching storm than any sort of civilization. I grant you that the Swedish mountains don’t have the same glorious, jagged profile of the Alps, but I loved seeing mountains with no power lines and no ski lifts in sight.
It’s also much easier walking than the Alps, which I know I said, but this trail is so easy it’s worth repeating. When we went over Tjaktja Pass, the highest point on the Kungsleden, it was just an 800ft climb up from the valley floor. On the far side of the pass lay a high valley that looked even more like the Moon for lack of water, but we were soon back into low valley and rivers again. We nearly dodge getting absolutely drenched at the pass, and merely got a bit moist instead.
Finding a sheltered campsite out in the open wastes again proved to be a challenge. We moved the tent twice trying to find enough cover from the wind before settling on a bed of peat and lichen behind the curve of some rocks. We weren’t the only losers looking for a place out of the wind, however, and about a million mosquitoes came out at dusk to pester us. There were so many that they were biting through our shirts and flying into our eyes and ears. Also keep in mind that dusk lasts for like 3 hours. It wasn’t until we were eating dinner, being driven mad by the constant bugs in our face, that we figured out the trick. Apparently, if you sit in a windy spot facing into the wind, the mosquitoes are forced to land on your back and not in your face. Genius!
In the morning, now on day four, we at long last woke up to blue skies. Behold the Kungsleden on a pretty day! It was such a fantastic day that Jon and I decided to make the most of it possible and put up some big miles. By the time we finally reached our destination at Abiskojuare, we had walked over 22 miles and seen a whole lot of scenery.
Not too much of interest went down beyond walking, gawking at the landscape, more walking, and more gawking. We stopped for lunch and resupply at Hut Alesjaure, which had a pretty sweet view of a stunning azure colored lake of the same name. I think those few miles walking along Alesjuare Lake, watching the rolling peaks unfold in long chains in the distance, were among my favorite miles of the entire trip.
We also had a memorable time at Hut Abiskojaure, where we camped for the night. Camping gained us access to the wood-fired Swedish sauna on site, steamed with snow melt from the nearby lake. The Swedes apparently aren’t shy in the sauna either, and we ended up packed in, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, with about a dozen other naked men and women in the sweltering hot sauna. Fortunately, hut tradition has it that when you get too hot in the sauna, you just run out into the cold and hop into the freezing cold lake! I thought the snow-melt temperature water was the perfect counterpoint to the sauna, but I’ve rarely heard more cursing from Jon than when he got into that water. Regardless, we had a hilarious naked time and went to bed happy.
On our final and fifth day, all that remained was to finish up the trail. We didn’t have too far to go, only about 8 miles, and we were having all-you-can-eat buffet lunch at Abikso Turistststation by the afternoon. In the end, we actually lost our race with the Fjallraven Classic folks – a handful of backpackers actually finished just minutes before us, which was impressive since we started a full day and a half ahead of them. Good for them!
We stayed the night in Abisko town itself at a passable little hostel, but it did have a hot shower so everything was OK. Next stop, Norway!
