Sarek, Arctic Sweden, August 2017, part 1

A day of flights via Oslo and Stockholm sees us landing at the small airport at Lulea, in the far north east of Sweden on the Gulf of Bothnia. We're settled in the Comfort Arctic Hotel and it's over the road for excellent pizzas and beer before retiring...tired.

Next day is free, so we surf the gear shops in the city, but buy nowt 'cept three cylinders of gas for our stove. It's a pleasant place to chill and graze on cakes and coffee though. But the Fjallraven trousers I have my eye on are a silly price.

The following morning we're on the train north. Then, from Murjek, it's a bus to the remote village of Kvikkjokk, well above the Arctic Circle. 

After minor sorting outside the fjallstation we lift packs filled with food for nine days on the trail. And set off. It's almost three in the afternoon and the long train and bus journey's left us weary. We manage about 3 miles before we stop...and pitch in the trees.

Awaking refreshed we're away north for a mile or so on the Kungsleden before we reach a junction where we head out north towards Sarek National Park; the Kungsleden turning north-east from here. Sarek is now seen as part of Laponia, a huge UNESCO World Heritage Site stretching right across northern Scandinavia. Laponia is protected primarily because it's the most important remaining site in the world where the indigenous people follow animals (in this case reindeer) on their annual migrations.

Leaving the Kungsleden, the path becomes a little more tricky. The ground is rocky. Undergrowth catches your sac and threatens to poke you in the eye, seemingly at every turn. Break stops are frequent. Mosquitoes are plentiful. Thank God for Mosiguard!

We're headed for the marshlands below the Sami settlement at Boarek. As we hit open country the view spreads before us to reveal snow capped peaks ahead. We find a beautiful pitch above the shore of a lake, but mossies refuse to allow us to sit out and admire the view. Our spacious tent becomes a haven and I soon perfect the art of cooking in the porch with my hands poked through the smallest opening in the netting door.

There's rain overnight and the view has closed in somewhat. Fresh snow has fallen on the mountains.

We carry on to hit our first river crossing. 

Before we cross, Chrissie tops up our water bottles, using our MSR Guardian water purifier.

It's about 50 metres to a small island then another 10 metres past that. Chrissie's been here before, with James in 2015. She assures me that, in these conditions, we'll be ok in boots and gaiters. Foolishly, I believe her. She crosses ahead of me. These pictures are of the far side. By the this time, both of us have boots and socks wet through!

I share my thoughts with my beloved as we wring out socks and pour water from boots. 

"Next time, let's do it my way eh?", pointing to the lightweight trainers we're carrying for just this situation. She smiles, sheepishly.

The weather's closing in as we move on. Temperatures drop as we climb past Boarek, through trees, before emerging onto open ground again.

We have a lot of flexibility in our plans for this trip. Sarek is tough and a river crossing can be a complete show stopper as it was for Chrissie and James back in 2015. Hence, we have a number of options open to us but we need to be back at Kvikkjokk on day 9, (our bus back to Lulea leaves at 05:20 the following morning).

We chat about the weather. Chrissie is concerned but I encourage her and we carry on upwards, towards another river crossing. It looks doable but, gazing higher I see an easier solution...a snow bridge filling the river gully. We're off higher.

The bridge is deep and safe. We cross without fuss and pitch the tent on the far side. It's windy. It's cold.

We have a brief snatch of phone signal and couple of items are posted on Twitter. It's a wild, windy night. Rain here. Snow higher. Chrissie sleeps fitfully and, in the morning, we have one of those meaningful, marital discussions which many of you out there will recognise. We each have a different view of how best to continue from here. I'll skip the detail but, the eventual resolution is, we'll head back towards the Kungsleden and take an out and back journey north from there.

We pack and make our way back over the snow bridge.

Retracing our steps past Boarek we pause at a sign we noticed yesterday. The hut, built over a hundred years ago by scientist Axel Hamberg is open for visitors for just a few days this week. Our revised schedule has little time pressure so we head into the trees, following the arrow.

To say this visit was a delight would be a gross understatement. We're greeted by a scientist who has been coming here for 50 years. He is sleeping in Hamberg's cabin, adding an air of authenticity to the ambiance. This was how it was intended to be used. The raw materials for the hut, and others which used to be here, were packed in by reindeer over 100 years ago. Though used regularly by researchers, this is the first time the public have been allowed into them. Such serendipity.

There's a small team of locals here, manning the open days. Amongst them a Sami family with their young son. They invite us to join them around their fire for coffee and cinnamon rolls, laying out a reindeer skin for us to sit on.

Fortunately, a number of them speak English, including the Sami folk, putting us, with our lack of Swedish, to shame. But we chat about the hills, science, wildlife and Brexit. The experience leaves us filled with warmth from meeting such friendly, welcoming folk on our travels.

We leave to continue our journey.

And before long, we're back at the river crossing again. This time, we do it my way...boots and socks off, trousers rolled up, sockless with mesh trainers.

THAT'S better :)

Smile!

More soon...

Any excuse for a camp out

We've been back home for a week. Pepper, Abi and Dave's daft, but lovable flat coat retriever is staying. She's just a year old and full of life.

We've an invitation from James and Corrina to join them for the weekend, but Dave and Abi are due home from Italy on Saturday to collect their precious pup, so we have to decline.

We're also invited to join a small gang of online friends who are having a camp at Monsal Head. Shame. But we do manage to drive over and enjoy a drink with them in the evening, in the Stables Bar of the Monsal Head Hotel. It's only half an hour from home. The beer's good and we manage to supplement our rushed dinner of porridge, with chips stolen from Dale. He and Rich are old friends and we bumped into Matthew at the end of the TGO Challenge, but we've not met Cath or Tim before. It's entertaining putting names to faces and the drink and chat flows freely.

Matthew and Cath are contemplating a wild camp somewhere on Kinder on Sunday night. As the guilty parties with local knowledge Chrissie and I suggest a couple of our favourite, secret locations. Parking outside Crowther Towers is offered and we bid one another farewell before returning home to the pampered pooches.

The following afternoon we get a text from Matthew to say he's on his way but, sadly, Cath's set off home with a bad back. Hope it improves quickly Cath.

As he walks through the door I ask Matthew if he fancies some company. Without giving him much opportunity to refuse, me an' Choccy Paws set to packing bags for the night. After tea and biccies we're away. Not too far. To a quiet, out of the way place, away from prying eyes below Kinder. The forecast is good and we're walking only a short distance. I choose to wear my new, lightweight, fabric Salomon Tibai Mid boots. I bought these for taking the dogs on easy walks. I've never backpacked in anything like this before, but the pack's light and, in the spirit of being openminded, I'll give 'em a go.

While I set up camp, Islay enjoys playtime.

Islay has, allegedly, been a little rude to Matthew on Twitter of late. Her attempts at apologies backfire when Matthew looks up from his phone unexpectedly to find a labrador muzzle some 2cm from his face. Shock doesn't begin to describe it. Oh well.

It's calm and dry. Dinner is served and devoured. I've one o' these for tonight. A gift from a Challenger as thanks for dinner in the van along his way. Cheers Mark. It's delicious. Recommended.

I've brought beer, which is sipped while we put the world to rights and Matthew has a bottle of Jura Single Malt. Well...it'd be rude not to...

Turning in, I leave the outer door of the Southern Cross open. A tip I've picked up, somewhere along the line, from Chris Townsend. When the weather's fine and it's not too cold it gives a feeling of openness, a connection with the surroundings and helps keep condensation at bay. I'm trying out Chrissie's Rab Neutrino 600 bag. It's about 300g lighter than my own Ascent 700 (a slightly wider, though still mummy-shaped bag). Another opportunity to lighten my load slightly, perhaps.

I finally wake at around 5:20 in the morning, just as it begins to rain. I quickly close the outer door. That wasn't forecast. But the sleeping bag's proved fine. Plenty wide enough. Maybe some cash may be spent in the not too distant future. Be good to have a lighter load for our upcoming Arctic Sweden trip.

Islay and I snooze contentedly and then breakfast in bed.

We emerge to find Matthew reading and pack our kit. Islay's panniers were unbalanced yesterday cos we'd left out her waterproof coat and pjs. I'd put her food, which I normally carry, in instead. But this is now in Islay's tummy. I split the tent and put the dry inner into one of her bags. This balances perfectly with her NobleCamper bed. Problem solved.

In no time, we're packed and off, seeking a different route along quiet footpaths, back home.

The fabric Salomons have been good too. Comfy. Mud and water shedding. I might well continue the experiment on a longer overnighter planned in a couple of week's time.

An excellent, impromptu trip out. Often the best kind. Good company, both canine and human. Beer, single malt. Really, what more could one ask for?

Thanks Matt. Welcome anytime.

Smile!

The perils of an online presence, continued.

Today I write with great care. Of late I've found myself researching the concept and definition of libel, hence my caution. I have sought legal advice before publishing this. I'll stick to facts and try not to let my emotions get the better of me. Those close to us will know much of what follows but I feel the need to share it with you all.

Stephanie Hakin seems to prefer to be known, for some reason, as Rucksack Rose. I don't like referring to folk by pseudonyms. I'll stick with what I assume to be her real name.

Chrissie and I met Stephanie back in 2014. She had publicly asked for help, on her blog, with wild camping. Chrissie is the very epitome of kindness where requests like this are concerned, so she volunteered her help. I'll not retell the whole tale again here. Many know it already. You can find it on Stephanie's Rucksack Rose blog, under "Camps", following the link to "Wideopen Hill", told in Stephanie's words. Though please be aware, by the time you go to read it, it may well have been edited or deleted (see para.5 below).

Stephanie maintains Chrissie abandoned her on a wild camp, when they were in a field, on the lower slopes of Wideopen Hill on St.Cuthbert's Way. In fact, Chrissie did refuse Stephanie's request to call for mountain rescue. Chrissie was convinced, with significant mountain rescue casualty-care experience (being trained to paramedic standard) Stephanie was suffering from a panic attack. She was worrying about her father being on his own, worrying she had no mobile signal, worrying she may develop a migraine in the night and even, at one stage, admitting to the fact that she was panicking. Stephanie later changed this to a self-diagnosis of "sunstroke" (cured by a cup of tea and a bed, in a pub) in her retelling of the story.

Stephanie, from that day to this, seems to have held Chrissie and me responsible for many ills which have subsequently befallen her. This has led to many unpleasant comments being published, not only on her Rucksack Rose blog and Twitter account but also on another blog and Twitter account using her proper name. For reasons best known to herself, Stephanie frequently deletes things on Twitter and regularly "edits" blog posts having reconsidered her retelling of events.

To my great surprise Stephanie applied for the TGO Challenge in October last year and was accepted. For reasons I am not fully privy to she subsequently withdrew. Between applying and withdrawing I admit, along with others, to publicly stating my surprise at her actions in applying for the event. Thus it was that Chrissie and I were vilified by Stephanie for preventing her from entering the Challenge, (her interpretation, not mine).

We are both sensitive souls, but Chrissie especially so. Since that unfortunate night in 2014, Chrissie has searched her soul for reasons why it went wrong. Could she have handled Stephanie's fears better? Was she at fault? She has tortured herself with questions like these every time Stephanie sticks her head above the parapet. At best, this has led to sleepless nights and self-torment. At worst it's seen the two of us arguing. It threw a cloud over Chrissie's recent TGOC crossing, but her indomitable spirit saw her through. Chrissie really doesn't deserve this as a reward for responding to a plea for help, but there it is.

Through her blog, Stephanie portrays herself as a hillwalker (a status I remain unsure of) and would-be backpacker. She offers advice to readers of her blog on various subjects around hillwalking and backpacking. Being a newcomer, a learner, is fine, but as such, in my opinion, offering advice and claiming eligibility for the TGO Challenge is strange.

In recent weeks Stephanie admitted she recently called mountain rescue when she had a minor navigational problem on the Speyside Way. She found herself on the receiving end of many comments questioning and criticising her actions. She justified herself by claiming to be honest in admitting to this.

We and others are accused of being "trolls"...of abuse and unfounded negativity. It seems to me the words "troll" and "abuse" are much overused on the internet nowadays. And it's fair to say that Chrissie, I and others could equally claim to have been trolled and abused by Stephanie. Stephanie appears to secretly watch the Twitter accounts of Chrissie and I and the ever-expanding cohort of people she has now "blocked", reacting quickly on her own account to anything posted about her. We also watch her accounts, following legal advice to do so, lest she strays over the boundary into libel. Over the past months she often asked for advice online. All too often, she dislikes the advice and refuses offers of help. She threatens and accuses those who would help, then often blocks them.

Why am I raking this up? You may well ask. I and Chrissie would like nothing more than to never have any contact with Stephanie again. A number of friends have suggested we should refrain from reacting to her online. We've tried but it's difficult. Chrissie responds, rarely, out of frustration at being so badly misrepresented. I respond out of anger at my beloved's level of upset and hurt at the hands of this individual.

An evening early this week was lively on Twitter. A couple of folk expressed sympathy for Stephanie who, in the opinion of us and many others, seems a troubled soul. They are right to be sympathetic...but, revisiting Chrissie's reactions to all this over a long time, I find it hard to empathise. But I must, for the sake of mine and Chrissie's health and sanity, hence my writing this piece.

I write for two reasons. First, I needed to get some things off my chest. Clear the dust. Second, I have a plea. I now see the sense in not responding anymore. To quote a good friend, "...if there's a void of unresponsiveness to the bile, it leaves the bile pointless". So, I'm gonna let go and I'm making a sincere request for you to do the same. Many out there in Twitter land have been exceptionally kind in your support of us around this subject and we thank you for that. Often folk alert us to Stephanie's latest outburst. That, I'm sure, has been done in a spirit of support for us too and, again, we thank you. But, enough is enough and we desperately wish to be done with this now. So, hard though it may be, we're gonna follow his (and other friends') advice and ask you to consider doing the same.

I have no desire to defame Stephanie's character and wish her no further ill. I seek only to draw a line under this sorry affair.

Give it some thought please. It's not for me or Chrissie to tell, or even ask, you how to respond to any future comments, but do consider my friend's words. He's a wise man. I think he's right.

Bless all those of you we think of as friends and thanks for taking the time to read this.