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Sarek

Ski-touring in the Swedish Arctic

By Greg Annandale

September 2^nd, 2019

March / April 2019.

Alex, Wojciech and I headed off to Northern Sweden for a ski traverse of Sarek National Park. Sarek is one of the largest true wilderness areas in Europe. No permanent settlements, no motorised vehicles, and little accommodation around the edges.

My 3rd trip through since 2009; we started in the South West of the park and spent 2 weeks hauling all of our gear and supplies on skis with pulks (sleds), exiting at the Northern edge.

(see the film shots from the trip in a previous story)

Packing is always helped along by some appropriate inspiration...

Hauling the sizeable load of duffles, camera backpacks, skis and pulks through airports, train stations and bus stops.

The view from the dinner table at Saltoluokta mountain lodge (we didn't see such a clear sky in the evening for pretty much the entire trip).

Day 1 is always difficult, fresh but unaccustomed legs and the pulks at their heaviest. However, 3 hours of sustained climbing in the softest of snow (with more of it constantly falling) made for a tough start.

We were out well after sunset.

Picking the route down through the trees to reach the Sitojaure hut.

Where at least a warm fire was waiting to help defrost and dry off.

The next morning was mercifully clear of fresh snowfall. After crossing the lake, a long climb took us up onto the plateau above our final hut before heading into Sarek.

Arriving at Aktse hut, we diligently stocked up on wood and water and enjoyed the views across the valley.

Surveying the Rapadalen valley, our home for the next three days as we followed it North into the heart of Sarek.

Some final leg and foot preparation. Blisters and sores are particularly unpleasant in ski boots (I counted 13 blisters on my feet at one point during my first trip to Sarek, lessons were learnt and have happily not suffered any on the last trips).

A day of heavy snow, resulting in slow progress and some tricky navigation through the dozens of offshoots, tributaries and small lakes. The emergency shelter made an appearance (not for the last time) to give us a bit of protection over lunch.

"Warning - forecast strong wind peaking around 1600 until midnight. NW around 55 knots. Falling trees, avalanches."

"The forecast's showing 70 knots exactly where you are, wind change will be v.rapid. No warning. Zero to hurricane in an hour. Be prepared! Believe me, you are in the spot of the strongest wind in all of Scandinavia"

Two of the messages received on our Garmin InReach from Dom, our friend providing us with weather updates and support. Not exactly what you want to hear...

We had planned to stop early, at an old weather station building, in order to dig down and secure the tent. These updates reinforced the need to do so: 70 knots / 130 kph / 36 metres per second is hurricane force (shown on the map below as the two larger blue blobs - our route had us neatly sandwiched between them over the next two days). The old weather station kept the worst of the wind off us that night, along with the nearly 2 metre high wall of snow we built up around the back of the tent.

The tent comfortably survived the night and conditions cleared somewhat the next day (at least the wind disappeared) allowing us some more visibility and the chance to rest and have some lunch out in the open.

Anchored down for another night of strong winds and fresh snow.

A particularly frosty start but the wind died down enough to have the pleasure of setting up the stove outside rather than in the porch (it's always a relief when fire can be moved away from the tent).

Following the river up and out of the lower gorges and onto more exposed terrain.

This was the first time that the wind really hit us during the day. By now we were considerably higher up the Rapadalen valley, open and exposed in the valleys, the wind funnelled down to us from the North.

Some shakey-hand phone footage does a better job of conveying the conditions.

Footprints, but inverted?

Footprints (most likely left by a fox) result in compacted snow which sticks together, the looser snow around them gets blasted away by the wind and so what's left is a raised "block" of a footprint a few centimetres high.

The now wide river made for simple navigation and decent progress - skating over the bare ice left now that the snow had been mostly driven off by the wind.

The wind ripping snow off the mountainsides.

Leaving the Rapdalen to start climbing up to the plateau under Sarektjåkkå.

Another forecast for gale-force winds overnight, this time from the South West. We found a snow drift offering some protection, then dug down as far as we could and anchored ourselves neatly between two trees.

The wind continues.

A short day, but into a headwind and uphill the entire time. This one was a struggle. Communication was down to gestures and the occasional(ly heard) shouted words through face-masks caked in ice.

We chose to head for a small cabin (an emergency shelter, with telephone and a table with benches - quite a luxury to be able to sit up with some back support!). A welcome break from the wind, particularly since pitching the tent in these conditions would have been a challenge (and we had passed a group of German skiers hunkered down for two days, their tents almost flattened by the wind; an experience we weren't keen on replicating).

Our route from the south visible on the far right, our route out to the north up the valley on the far left.

Sarektjåkkå, the second-highest mountain in Sweden (left-most peak). Spot the skier (centre bottom) for scale.

The emergency shelter's "toilet" door had been ripped off in the wind, leaving it a little exposed to the elements. We mostly stayed inside with the stove fired up, working our way through freeze-dried meals.

Weak Aurora activity, only faintly visible to the naked eye, but a handful of photos was a least a very welcome reward for getting little sleep and some frost-nipped fingers.

Beautiful morning light.

Glorious skiing weather.

Finally, a clear day - sun, no wind, higher pressure. A long 22km day was made far more bearable (and we could enjoy sitting out, almost basking, in the sun for lunch).

Arriving under the beautiful Nijak mountain, a day of skiing in stunning weather drew to an end. We had high winds forecast again overnight and the gently rolling mounds and hills offered little protection; we dug into what was left of the wind-blasted snow and built up some protection around the tent.

The morning's wind was particularly unpleasant - the strongest we had experienced during the daytime. Rock-hard sastrugi (snow ridges) made skiing difficult and gusts of wind knocked us over on a number of occasions.

It felt like skiing up a river at times; the wind driving the snow at such a speed all around us. It's hard to convey just how strong the wind was in still images...

Nijak, now completely shrouded in cloud.

A break in the weather, and ever-beautiful crepuscular rays.

The final river crossing, towards the Ahkka hut (our exit point from Sarek), was a little hairy - large portions of the river both upstream and downstream had opened up so we made our way across cautiously - pulks unclipped and dragged by hand in case we had to ditch them in the event of a snow bridge giving way. Falling and getting pulled into the river under the snow and ice was clearly not an option.

Finally, some solid walls - shelter out of the wind!

We had a day in hand before the bus back out, so spent it being helpful around the hut where we could; replacing 100kg gas canisters, chopping wood and fetching water.

Pro axe-wielding.

Prepping the sauna to warm ourselves through and defrost the extremities, then packing up the snowmobile the next morning to transfer across the lake to Ritsem.

Ever-changing weather; the same view (from Ritsem STF), ten minutes apart.

Being escorted out of Ritsem (returning to the "main" road) by a snow plow. The plow got ripped off the truck in a particularly deep drift; steel braces sheared clean off. Stuck in the snow, behind a stuck snow plow.