Kungsleden Trail Sweden – Part 3 – Salka to Alesjaure

Hiking Kungsleden trail Sweden

Photo: Hiking north through the scenic Tjäktjavagge, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Sälka to Tjäktja: 12km – Tjäktja to Alesjaure: 13km

[This is part 3 of my hike along the northern section of the Kungsleden trail, Sweden from Sept 11 – 20, 2012.  Part 1 HERE, part 2 HERE.  For a general overview of hiking the trail in autumn, CLICK HERE ]

I woke in the morning with a sore throat and a bit of a headache, which for me typically means one thing.  I’m about to get a cold.  I probably picked something up in Germany, most likely from my coughing neighbour at the festival, who also happened to sit behind us on the train, constantly coughing until we had to change trains.

It was another blustery day as we left Sälka, heading north towards Tjäktja pass, the highest point on the Kungsleden’s northern section.  And unfortunately this day, the wind was heading directly into our faces.  It was also on this section in 2009 that the wind was so strong, it blew my rain cover right off my pack, which unfortunately I didn’t notice for a few minutes then had to turn around and go chase it down.

At 1,140 meters in elevation Tjäktja pass is not especially high.  But as it sits at the northern end of the long Tjäktjavagge, the views south are some of the most spectacular along the trail.  Unfortunately for my camera, I didn’t choose the most scenic day to head over the pass.  I gave some thought about spending the night in the shelter at the top, but eventually decided to continue to to Tjäktja hut.  Arriving at Tjäktja hut, we were now a little more than half way though the 110km distance of the trail.

After a cold windy day hiking, my cold had worsened, and infect we were both now sick.  I loaded up on Ibuprofen and tried to make the best of it.  If there is one hut that seems to be most often skipped along the trail, it is Tjäktja.  And as it ended up, it was just the two of us there for the night.  I actually feel a little bad about staying in an empty hut, as it takes a lot of wood to head the place up for just two people.  The hut warden, an old lady that didn’t speak much English, but was always smiling, must of thought me to be a bit crazy as I was running around and setting up my cameras to shoot time-lapse sequences.  I tried to explain what I was doing, but I’m not sure I got the point across, but she did seem amazed at the amount of crap I was carrying!

As the morning light increased, a fresh layer of snow was covering the ground around the hut.  And so once again, we headed out into the wind and snow and rain for a relatively easy hike to Alesjaure hut.  Luckily the wind was back to our backs again, it what turned into a pretty grim day for the most part.

Partly because of our colds and partly because we were a few days ahead of schedule, we would spend two nights at Alesjaure hut.  I knew the area around the hut to be fairly scenic, so this would also give me a change to see if the weather might decide to clear up.  And as luck would have it, I would have the pleasure of meeting another one of my blog readers here, this time from Austria.  I’m always amazed at how small the world can be sometimes.

So some lazy days passed.  A few photos here and there, but the light largely remained elusive.  We even spoiled ourselves and bought a can of beans, perhaps the most expensive beans I’ll ever eat in my life, and instant mash potatoes to bring some variety to our bland diets of couscous thus far.  I think even one of the worlds most expensive apples was bought, though I don’t think I received any.  Oh, and a nice warm sauna in the evenings was nothing to complain about!

Hiking Kungsleden trail Sweden

Photo: Mountain sidewalk, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hiking Kungsleden trail Sweden

Photo: Hiking north towards Tjäktja pass, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hiking Kungsleden trail Sweden

Photo: Awaiting the arrival of a snow flurry, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hiking Kungsleden trail Sweden

Photo: Hiking over rocky terrain, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Autumn snow from Tjaktja hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden

Photo: Overnight dusting of snow at Tjäktja hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hiking Kungsleden trail Sweden

Photo: A brief moment of light on the way to Alesjaure, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Alesjaure mountain landscape kunglseden trail Sweden

Photo: Dark skies to the south from Alesjaure, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Autumn mountain reflection in river, Alisvagge from near Alesjaure mountain hut, Kungsleden trail, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Mountain reflection near Alesjuare, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

 holding axe to cut firewood at mountain hut, Kungsleden trail, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Perhaps I should sleep with one eye open? Alesjaure hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

cutting firewood at mountain hut, Kungsleden trail, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Preparing the evenings firewood at Alesjaure hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Kungsleden Trail Sweden – Part 2 – Kebnekaise Fjallstation to Salka

Female hiker with mountains in distance, Ladtjovagge, near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Leaving Kebnekaise Fjällstation under sunny skies, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Kebnekaise Fjällstation to Singi: 14km – Singi to Sälka: 12km

[This is part 2 of my hike along the northern section of the Kungsleden trail, Sweden from Sept 11 – 20, 2012.  For part 1 CLICK HERE.  For a general overview of hiking the trail in autumn, CLICK HERE ]

As morning came to ebnekaise Fjällstation and we prepared for our third day on the trail I had already seen more sun than my entire 10 day journey in 2009.  With an easy 14km to Singi hut, we lazed around for a bit, not taking to the trail until mid morning.  This goes slightly against my normal advice to take advantage of good weather when you have it.  It is never a question of if it will rain, but rather, when.  And so in tempting fate, we hiked west into the Ladtjovagge while surrounded by some of Sweden’s highest peaks which already carried a dusting of the season’s first snows.

About an hour into the day we came across a group heading our way.  “You have three options – wet, wet, or wet.”  The warning from a Swedish woman who had just passed through the particularly flooded and boggy section along the trail, which we now faced.  Another couple from their group sat on the side of the trail putting their boots back on, having given up any attempt at keeping their feet dry and preferring a barefoot crossing of the river.

So there I stood in my light trail runners, still fairly dry at that point, looking for any sort of weakness in the in 100+ meters of Swedish super bog interlaced with series of small rivers that needed fording.  The following few minutes weren’t particularly elegant:  a quick hop onto a slightly submerged rock, almost slipping into knee deep and ice cold water.  Another long step saw me onto a broken bush, the bog creeping up around my shoes with every second my foot remained.  Moving fast I found another, more secure bush with which I could use scout out my next few moves.  More steps and more cursing as the mud crept up around my feet, the first hints of moisture beginning to penetrate though.  Another small stream to hop across and then I came to the final section with no way around.  I put my trekking poles as far forward as possible and did a sort of flying leap into another clump of small bushes.  My poles flexed and sank as I used them like crutches in a desperate attempt to keep from sinking past my ankles.  Finally across I surveyed the damage: left foot somewhat wet from taking the worst of the bog, right foot muddy, but overall pretty dry.  Success.  Or at least success for my preferred use of trail runners in a country where people often hike in wells.

The next hours passed uneventfully as the valley narrowed and we hiked in the shadows of mountains and along crystal clear rivers and waterfalls, everywhere.  We passed another large group of school age kids taking a break on the side of the trail.  My thoughts immediately diverted from the scenic terrain to one of dread; that we might encounter another such a group at Singi, where they would literally take over the whole place.  While I don’t go to the Kungsleden expecting some isolated wilderness experience, I also don’t expect to share a small mountain hut with 19 (yes, I counted) teenagers.  It’s good to give kids an outdoor experience, but I feel such large groups have too much impact on their surrounds in an isolated mountain area and the small huts that shelter us.  So it came to my relief as we arrived at Singi just prior to the rain that we would have the place almost totally to ourselves, just an elderly Swedish couple across the hall in a separate room.

Morning arrived to clear skies once more, but a fresh, to put it nicely, wind was coming from the south and I knew it wouldn’t be long before some not-so-nice hiking weather would arrive.  So before 8:00 we were back on the trail, this time heading almost perfectly north, towards the Sälka hut, 12km away.  This part of the journey was now familiar with me, as Singi had been my southernmost point while on the Kungleden in 2009 when I hiked from Abisko to Singi and back to Abisko again after I learned there were no more busses running from Nikkaluokta for the season.

With the wind at our backs, I wasn’t paying much attention to the weather behind us until I stopped for some quick photos and saw a wall of snow quickly heading our way.  Having taken chances in the morning and not wearing rain gear, we we both in for a rather chilling change of clothes on the side of the trail.  Minutes after our backpacks were back on a terrible mix of snow, sleet, and icy rain hit us with a fury.

A couple more hours of hiking saw us arriving to a warm fire at Sälka.  It is here that I learned some wisdom from the hut warden: wood warms you twice.  Once while preparing it for the fire, and once while in the fire.  It was also at Sälka that I learned that I was somewhat known in this part of the world, as a nice young Australian couple at the hut had read my blog about my 2009 journey.  Cool!

I knew Sälka to be a nice place.  I knew there to be some good potential for photos in the area, but once again, like 2009, the weather chose otherwise.  This is a frustration that I, and we, as landscape photographers often face I think; that I’ve hiked several days to get to an isolated place, only to be shut down by the weather.  I made the most of the light and conditions that I could, but already put a note in my mind that I’ll have to come back once again, not that I would complain!

And so our 4th night on the Kungsleden arrived as we sat warm and dry from the heat of a glowing birch wood fire.

Female hiker leans on bridge in Ladtjovagge Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Enjoying the day, Kunglseden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hiking trail in Ladtjovagge with Tolpagorni - Duolbagorni mountain in distance, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Autumn colors fill the landscape in Ladtjovagge, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Panoramic view of Ladtjovagge viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Mountain peaks surround Ladtjovagge, Kungsleden Trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Singi hut Kungsleden trail Sweden

Photo: Night arrives at Singi hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Singi hut Kungsleden trail Sweden

Photo: Candlelight at Singi hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hiking Kungsleden trail Sweden in Autumn

Photo: Autumn colors and snowy mountains; late season hiking on the Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hiking Kungsleden trail Sweden in Autumn

Photo: ‘Mountain sidewalk,’ Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hiking boots rain kungsleden trail sweden

Photo: Are your feet wet? Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

River at Sälka mountain hut along Kungsleden trail, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: A river flows near Sälka Hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Small river flows south into Tjäktjavagge, near Sälka mountain hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden

Photo: A river flows near Sälka Hut, Kungsleden trail, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Kungsleden Trail Sweden – Part 1 – Berlin to Kebnekaise Fjällstation

Autumn view over STF Kebnekaise Fjallstation mountain hut, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Kebnekaise Fjällstation mountain huts in Autumn, Lapland, Sweden.  Sept. 2012

Days 1-2 Berlin – Kiruna – Nikkaluokta – Kebnekaise Fjällstation

[This is part 1 of my hike along the northern section of the Kungsleden trail, Sweden from Sept 11 – 20, 2012.  For a general overview of hiking the trail in Autumn, CLICK HERE ]

Beep, Beep, BEEEEEEPPPP! WAKE UP!!!  My imaginary mental alarm wakes to the 4:00 am darkness of Berlin.  My real alarm wasn’t too far behind; my head likes to give me a bit of a warning so I have a moment of brief calm before the day begins.  Showered (would be the last one for a week) and packed, we head out the hostel door into the mild morning air barely 12 hours after we’d arrived in Berlin the previous afternoon.  Hopping on the U-bahn, we ride with the early morning commuters, most looking like they wouldn’t have minded a few more hours in bed.  But despite our tired faces our backpacks give us away.  Just passing through…

At 7:00 am we were in the air heading north to Stockholm.  A few hours later, we were landing north of the Arctic Circle, under the grey, misty skies of Kiruna, Sweden.  Though it doesn’t really ever appear on any schedule, or at least not the two times I’ve flown to Kiruna, there seems to be a bus that appears from somewhere mysterious and takes you to the city center.  The last guy to get on the bus asked if there would be another one later that night, as his girlfriend would be arriving on another flight.  ‘Nope,’ the driver replies.  ‘Only one bus today.’  That seems to be how things work in the north, and I’m always wondering if the info I read, especially if found online, is accurate.  Does the bus actually come when the schedule says it will?  Or do they just go by their own rule.  Luckily, the bus taking us to Nikkaluokta did show up at the bus station in Kiruna and by late afternoon were were deposited at the trail head. The next 120km would be by foot.

The clouds hung low in the valley, concealing the peaks around us.  A light drizzle fell from the grey sky.  One of those rains that temps you not to put on rain gear, but then ends up getting you unexpectedly wet somehow.  After taking shelter to change into full waterproofs, we took to the trail for several hours of uneventful hiking into the fading afternoon light.  At the estimated halfway point, I found a nice flat spot amongst the autumn birches and setup camp.  I did put a little effort into trying to find someplace slightly scenic, trying to remain optimistic that I could put my camera to work at sunrise. As morning came heavy drops pelted the tent, a bit more sleep seemed the best idea.

The only thing worse than setting up a tent in the rain is taking down a tent in the rain.  And the rain was falling, and falling as the morning hours passes.  Finally tired of waiting to see if the storm would relent, we packed up camp and continued along the trail.  In my best swag (scientific wild ass guess) of an estimate, we’d reach Kebnekaise Fjällstation is about 3 hours, around noon or so.

The rain was relentless a we continued down the sloppy trail and through forests of golden birch trees.  We passed the ghostly silhouettes of hikers, hoods up and heads down, more closely resembling waterfalls than men.  My (supposedly) waterproof shoes soon began to show their submission to the weather, and my thin fleece gloves left my hands wet and cold.  We continued in silence towards the dream of warmth and of fire, of a place to dry off and relax, of an expensive bunk at Kebnekaise Fjällstation.

And then, out of nowhere, the clouds parted and a brilliant blue filled the sky!  My first thoughts where that we should have waited in the tent longer.  My next thought was that it probably would have rained for a week straight had we waited.  I think the North sometimes likes me to suffer a bit before she offers me any rewards.  As we neared the surrounds of hut, my thoughts drifted to finding a nice place to camp and maybe a few nice camping photos.  And then reality reminded me that the tent was completely soaked, sleeping bags were damp, clothes were wet, and most importantly, if I set up my tent, it would rain again.  And so I forked out the 500 SEK for a bunk bed and went even more extreme and bought myself a beer or two.  And since I was carrying a laptop for no other reason than I had no place to leave it, I even made use of some internets.  Luxury in the mountains.

Kebnekaise Fjällstation turned out to be a busy place, or at least much more so than I imagined, it being so late in the season.  And entering the guest kitchen I was presented with the dilemma I always seem to find myself in: Yummy free food to eat or the beginnings of a lighter backpack.  A mix of both would do on this night.  And so my head hit the pillow that night, full, dry and warm.  Luxury in the mountains…

1662 meter Tolpagorni - Duolbagorni rises above Ladtjovagge viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjallstation, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: 1662 meter Tolpagorni – Duolbagorni rises above Ladtjovagge viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Lapland, Sweden.  Sept. 2012

 

Autumn tree with summit of Tolpagorni - Duolbagorni in distance, viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjallstation, Ladtjovagge, Lappland, Sweden

Photo: Autumn tree with summit of Tolpagorni – Duolbagorni in distance, viewed from near Kebnekaise Fjällstation, Ladtjovagge, Lappland, Sweden.  Sept 2012

Hebridean New Year – Part 3 – Misty Days on Harris and Lewis

Luskentyre beach, Isle of Harris, Scotland

Photo: Misty January sky over Luskentyre beach, Isle of Harris, Scotland.  Jan 2013

[For part I – Howmore – CLICK HERE.  For part II – Berneray – CLICK HERE.]

The mist was heavy as the ferry sailed slowly towards Leverburgh on south Harris.  One of those mornings when you cannot actually tell when when the day begins, and somehow perfectly fitting to the rocky, moon like landscape of the Isle of Harris.  One of those landscape where a person could disappear into the mist, never to be seen again.

On trips to the islands, I like to try and spend a majority of my time on Harris, as It’s the most scenic and diverse of the islands, not to mention the beaches.  But the way the New Year fell, combined with ferry schedules, meant we only had 3 nights to explore both Harris and Lewis.  So, knowing that I wouldn’t get any decent photos on the south, we headed all the way north to the furthest tip of Lewis, the Butt of Lewis.  Last year I got some cool photos of monstrous waves crashing into the cliffs, so I was hoping for a bit of a repeat.  Unfortunately, the sea was too calm and the wind from the wrong direction for much of a show this time.  And so it was back to the road to look for a place to camp for the night, finally ending up by some beach near Uig.

Another day of mist came and went.

For our final night on the islands we stayed at the oldest of the Gatliff hostels in Rhenigidale, a small, isolated village on the rugged east side of Harris that wasn’t even connected by road to the outside world until 1990. Warmed by the fire, our final, rainy night on the islands passed.

We were on the road in the early morning hours, me hoping for one last chance for a sunrise.  But again, nothing, leaving me at 0 for 8 sunrises so far this trip.  Not too good!  Another stormy ferry ride put us back on Skye with a heavy rain falling.

The plan had been to stay the night on Skye, but this was nixed and we headed back south to Glencoe, and it was lucky I did so.  For the following morning on Rannoch Moor, I saw one of the best sunrises I’ve yet to see in Scotland.  We spent the afternoon climbing at the Ice Factor, then our usual tradition of dinner at the Clachaig.  Monday was a rainy 8 hours back to Wales and the end of another Hebridean New Year.

Luskentyre beach, Isle of Harris, Scotland

Photo: Luskentyre beach, Isle of Harris, Scotland.  Jan 2013

 

Dalmore beach, Isle of Lewis, Scotland

Photo: Dalmore beach, Isle of Lewis, Scotland.  Jan 2013

 

peat cutting, isle of harris, Scotland

Photo: Peat cuttings, Isle of Harris, Scotland.  Jan 2013

 

Rhenigidale hostel

Photo: Rhenigidale hostel, Isle of Harris, Scotland.  Jan 2013

Hebridean New Year – Part 2 – New Year on Berneray

Berneray hostel scotland

Photo: Night comes to Berneray youth hostel, Berneray, Scotland.  Jan 2013

[For part 1 of the story – Howmore – CLICK HERE. For part 3 – Harris and Lewis – CLICK HERE]

Monday morning, New Year’s Eve, we said our goodbyes to Howmore and headed north to Berneray.  The hostel at Berneray, also part of the Gatliff trust, is perhaps my favourite hostel in all of Scotland.  And for the third year in a row, despite the weather, I’ve journeyed here to welcome in the new year.  Only feet from the crashing waves of the sea, and surrounded by the ruins of days gone by, the hostel at Berneray sits alone on the edge of the small island who’s population comes in at an uncrowded 136 people.  As the clock struck midnight, there were 7 of us sitting around the table in the dimly lit room, rain battering the windows and wind creaking the roof.

New Year’s day brought a slight improvement to the weather and so we headed out to walk along Berneray’s West beach, perhaps one of the nicest beaches in Scotland – if you don’t mind the temperature!  Covering nearly the whole western side of the islend, the beach is some 3 miles of white sand backed by grassy dunes and machair.

As afternoon arrived, it was off to another beach on North Uist to see if the sunset might bring some nice light. It didn’t.  And little did I know, this would be the last time I would see the sun on this trip.  In the morning, an early ferry would bring us to my favourite Hebridean island, the Isle of Harris.

west beach berneray scotland

Photo: Chasing rainbows on west beach, Berneray, Scotland.  Jan 2013

west beach berneray scotland

Photo: Walking along the grassy dunes above west beach, Berneray, Scotland.  Jan 2013

west beach berneray scotland

Photo: west beach, Berneray, Scotland.  Jan 2013

west beach berneray scotland

Photo: Can you find the sheep? west beach, Berneray, Scotland.  Jan 2013

Berneray hostel scotland

Photo: Catching a brief moment of sun outside the hostel, Berneray, Scotland.  Dec 2012

Abandoned building, Berneray, Scotland

Photo: Old wall, Berneray, Scotland.  Dec 2012

Abandoned building, Berneray, Scotland

Photo: Alone and empty, Berneray, Scotland.  Dec 2012

Hebridean New Year – Part 1 – Stormy ride to Howmore

Stormy sea scotland minch

Photo: Gale force winds and rough seas while crossing to the Outer Hebrides, Scotland.  Dec 2012

[For part 2 – Berneray – CLICK HERE.  For part 3 – Harris and Lewis – CLICK HERE]

A deer jumped into the headlights 20 meters ahead of me in the 2am darkness of Rannoch Moor.  I locked up the front tires, missing it be mere feet as it sprung across the road.  After 8 hours of driving from Wales, it was finally time to find a place to camp for the night.  In the morning, the journey would continue onwards to the Isle of Skye, and finally the ferry to North Uist to once again celebrate the coming year on Scotland’s Outer Hebrides.

Arriving in Uig, I learned of the chaos the gale and storm force winds had been causing.  Friday’s sailing to the islands had been canceled, resulting in a huge backup on the Saturday afternoon ferry that we were hoping to get on.  We ended up in the standby line, and sat around to wait.  There was word that there would also be an extra sailing later that night ahead of Sunday’s expected weather cancelations, but as luck would have it, we made it on the boat as the 2nd to last car.  I later learned there was no second sailing that night, and the weather held off the ferry until late Sunday afternoon.

The Little Minch, the 20 mile stretch of water separating Skye from the Outer Hebrides, was full of fury as the boat traveled west into the afternoon darkness of winter in the north.  Dishes crashed and barf bags were filled.  Huge waves crashed over the ferry as the boat continued westwards, and people needed to go out to get some ‘fresh air’ at a more regular interval.  But soon enough, it was over, and I was back in the drivers seat heading south on the single lane roads to Howmore.

At Howmore, South Uist, is one of 3 hostels run by the Gatliff Trust.  The hostels are simple places in restored, thatched roof black houses; as the traditional, single room stone houses northern Scotland are called.  Full of atmosphere and history, each one is unique and with its own character.  They are some of my favourite places in Scotland to stay, and fit well to the landscape of the islands.  Here would be our home for the next two nights as the gales continued to sweep across the islands.

Sunday brought little worth wandering outside for, so it was mostly spent driving around the south of South Uist.  And with darkness arriving around 3:30 in the afternoon, the day doesn’t even leave much time for that.  In the morning, we headed north, to Berneray.

outer hebrides ferry scotland

Photo: Just made it, 2nd to last car on the ferry.  Isle of Skye in distance.  Dec 2012

Howmore youth hostel

Photo: Howmore Hostel, South Uist, Scotland.  Dec 2012

Howmore

Photo: Warm fire and a splash of whisky, Howmore, South Uist, Scotland.  Dec 2012

Howmore church cemetery ruin

Photo: Cemetery and church ruins, Howmore, South Uist, Scotland.  Dec 2012

Howmore church cemetery ruin

Photo: Cemetery and church ruins, Howmore, South Uist, Scotland.  Dec 2012

Howmore church cemetery ruin

Photo: Cemetery and church ruins, Howmore, South Uist, Scotland.  Dec 2012

 

Skottinden Hiking Guide

Skottinden Lofoten Islands Norway

Photo: Reflection of Skottinden, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2012

It’s another year and time for more mountain pages to be added over at 68north.com  The first for 2013 is Skottinden -CLICK HERE- to check it out.

Skottinden is one of those peaks that I’ve always thought about hiking up, likely due to its Matterhorn-like appearance, but never really got around to hiking.  Thanks to some young Germans at the hostel who had borrowed the book ‘På Tur I Lofoten’ – The best hiking guide for Lofoten Islands, though only in Norwegian, I saw where the route went.  And so, on one late September day about a month later, I found myself on the summit and watching sea eagles circle in the distance.

Skottinden Lofoten Islands Norway

Photo: Skottinden, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  September 2012

Rannoch Moor – Scotland

Sunrise at Loch Ba, Rannoch Moor, Scotland

Photo: Loch Ba sunrise, Rannoch Moor, Scotland.  January 2013

On a dark January morning, in one of the most photographed places in Scotland, Rannoch Moor, I was alone.  Even I hadn’t planned to be there, or at least not until the following morning.  But there I was, wet feet and all, walking around the boggy shores of Loch Ba as a hint of pink formed, then brightened, then grew on the southern horizon.  The following 10 minutes were probably the best light I’ve ever seen in all my travels of Scotland.

After a week of grey sunrises and grey sunsets I was beginning to get a little depressed.  It had been another bleak and stormy New Year’s journey to the Scotland’s Outer Hebrides; to be expected, but not what I was hoping for.  The plan for the drive home had been to spend one night on the Isle of Skye and then the final night in Glencoe before making the 8 hour drive south to Wales from there.  But as we departed the ferry in Uig, an unrelenting rain fell from above.  And when you walk into the supermarket and overhear the old women talking about how terrible the weather has been lately, it’s generally not a good sign.  So at that, I said goodbye to the islands and drove into the fading afternoon light that is January in Scotland.

Hours later the rain was still falling as we pulled into my favourite car-bivy spot on the road to Glen Etive, just next to what is perhaps the most iconic, and overshot, photo in Scotland, Buachaille Etive Mor.  Soon however, stars were to be seen, and a glimmer of hope arose.  But as the first hints of dawn began to break, they sky was back to cloud.  Although for the first time in a week, there was no wind.  And so I rose.

Sunrise at Loch Ba, Rannoch Moor, Scotland

Photo: Loch Ba sunrise, Rannoch Moor, Scotland.  January 2013

Lofoten Islands in February

Winter storm over snow covered beach, Unstad, Lofoten islands, Norway

Photo: Unstad beach in winter, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  January 2010

Over Christmas I bought myself just a single present, and at least one thing to look forward to in the new year:  Flights to Lofoten!

On the evening of Feb 12, I’ll land in Bodø.  I chose to fly on a Tuesday for a couple reasons.  First, because the flight was pretty cheap.  And more importantly for me, sleep.  Or more specifically, the ferry to the islands leaves Bodø at 01:30 early Wednesday morning.  And this ferry travels via the island of Væerøy instead of direct to Moskenes, which means that I’ll have to possibility of about 5 hours of somewhat comfortable sleep before arriving on the islands; the padded seats of the ferry being much more comfortable than the floor of the waiting room in Bodø.   And since I’ll have been up since about 02:00 Tuesday morning for the 3.5 hour drive to the airport from Wales, 5 hours of sleep will be much enjoyed!  And then I’m on the islands shortly before sunrise and ready for the day instead of walking around like some zombie in some sleep deprivation coma.

I haven’t booked my return ticket yet as I actually don’t know where I’ll go when I leave.  The default would be back to the UK for a few weeks before heading back to California, but I’m not sure if they’ll let me back in or not.  The other possibility would be just go directly home to California after Lofoten.  Or a third option, but more difficult option, stay in Europe a bit longer.  It’s really been on my mind to make a ski tour of the northern Kungsleden, but this will probably be a bit difficult for me logistically so might have to wait a few more years.

I’m also going to be a little more ambitious on this trip and bring my winter climbing gear (ice tools, boots/crampons, etc) and maybe try and get up a few easy mountains (solo), or if I’m lazy, just do a bit of roadside ice climbing (no lack of this in Lofoten) on days with crappy weather.  Should at least be better than sitting around the car and reading to pass the time away.  And if by some amazing chance there is a forecast for calm weather for a day or two, I might even try and camp on Reinebringen for a night.

In the past year I’ve spend 2 months north of the Arctic Circle, but for the most part, the Northern Lights eluded me.  Mostly this was down to bad luck in my timing as on numerous occasions I missed fantastic displays by only a day or two.  Or the only time I did witness a good showing, I was on a damn boat!  So fingers crossed for a little more luck this year…

Winter sunrise on frozen lake Urvatnet, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Urvatnet winter sunrise, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2012

ice on Nedre Heimdalsvatnet, Eggum, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Photo: Ice covers Nedre Heimdalsvatnet, Eggum, Lofoten Islands, Norway.  February 2012