Day 25 - Slipsikstugan to Tjohkele - Helicopter

An eventful day in many respects.  Heavy rain showers passed overhead during the night but I am up to another fine morning and then a descent off the high plateau in good weather. Klimpfjall is a few hours away and the descent from 'kalfjall' takes a number of easy miles.

I pass the Sami couples encampment, some distance mind but I can see that they are up and about. The man is out in the lake fishing, smoke rises from their fire. A dual purpose perhaps of smoking fish and warding off the voracious mosquitoes who are thriving in this weather. Their camp looks serene though.

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I am thinking of food too. Grona Bandet lore has the 'Fjallgard' and it's Italian restaurant as a good place to refuel. I reckon I should make it by lunchtime and this motivation has me move with purpose. The pack's a few day's lighter and the going's good. Dry fell and hard ground though it becomes wetter and boggier as I move down.

There's interest on the way. I meet a local whose been out camping with her dog. She told me that she had to move from here summer tent (it leaks apparently!) in the night and found an old turf kata to shelter in. Thunder and the fear of lightening drove her under it's ancient structure. The kata is one of the many residual buildings of a Sami community.

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More are found further down. There's a pictorial guide and I stare at photographs of Sami children from decades ago. Once the site of a Sami school I learn, children spent months here away from hearth and home. I reflect on that a little as I pass through a contemporary Sami community before hitting the highway. Snowmobiles and decent cars parked outside well maintained houses speak of a more prosperous north perhaps.

By 11.30 I am in Klimpfjall. I spy a supermarket which could have meant carrying a lighter load over the past days. Never mind, I'll console myself with lunch. I'm through the door of the Fjallgard and I enjoy several large plates of carbonara and salad washed down with gallons of coffee. A little self conscious perhaps in my stinking hill clothes but I enjoy an excellent lunch.

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The afternoon's walking is as good as the food. A freshly marked trail leads me out of town and up towards Durrenstugan. The landscape holds plenty of interest, fells with steep cliffs and sharp features. The terrain's forgiving too and in pleasant weather I make good progress despite the glut of food consumed some hours before. It's good to be here. Norwegian Borgefjell rises to the west. The east holds the promise of Marsfjallen. I'll be back one day for both.

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Mid-afternoon and I arrive at the Lansstrylesen hut of Durrenstugan. As before it's an open and unmanned hut, subject to an honesty fee of 100kr. I sit down for a minute and the flick through a copy of Ute magazine from 1994. That doesn't really seem so long ago but the gear worn by people in the mag seems from another planet. The features though seem pretty constant, I spend 10 minutes reading an account of a Sarek trip. One undertaken 20 years ago, the gear's different but Sarek looks the same.

I stir myself though and off I head. In poor weather I would have spent the night here. The hut's in a great position, by the side of a high lake flanked by fells. Before long though I feel the urge to pack it in for the days. Coming off trail a little (and I am later glad that I did) I camp on a flat grassy pitch not far from a stream. It's hot and I revel in the coldness of the water.

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The intention is an early night. Around 10.30 though I am stirred by the sound of petrol engines. Two off road bikes whizz down the trail. Samis are herding reindeer, I look out and see hered being driven off the high fells by a helicopter that's now audible. The reindeer, to escape the hear of the day, have scattered on the high ground and as the day cools their owners want then down. A medley of petrol engines for an hour and then the ground reverberates. Hundreds of reindeer stream past my tent and then settle not so far away to graze by the side of a tarn.

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I hear the helicopter land up high and get up to take a look. High above Vastra Fjallfallet the helicopter perches itself. The pilot and his companion have climbed out. Cries ring out in the night sky. Their shouts, quite literally are of joy! And why not. It's a little after midnight on a perfect summer's night and light still fills the sky. It's the stuff of life itself. Voices of celebration. I climb back into my sleeping back and settle down. Reindeer grunt to each other by the tarn as I drift asleep. Perfect.

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