Sarek is a national park above the Arctic Circle in Lappland, Sweden. It is a hikers’ and climbers’ dream without trails. By many considered the only true remaining wilderness area in Europe, it is now part of a larger World Heritage Site (Laponia). I found it in many ways similar to Denali National Park (Mount McKinley) in Alaska, where Surain and I hiked in 1986.

Both are without trails, so you need a map and compass to find your way around. Both have rushing rivers that need fording, some glacial with milky silt water, some running clear. Both have moose (British elk) and brown bears, though while the common grizzlies in Denali are feared by many, the bears are much fewer and less dangerous in Sarek and rarely seen. Denali is on a different scale with much higher mountains and much bigger glaciers. Sarek, on the other hand, is much further north and the mountains do no need to be as high to produce glaciers - there are more than 200 peaks above 1,800 meters (5,800 feet). Maybe because of this I saw more rivers to ford in Sarek. Strangely enough, the environment in Denali seemed gentler, with most areas covered with meadows. In Sarek there are lots of rocks in your way, lots of bogs to pass, lots of trees and bushes to penetrate.

And then there are the bridges without trails in Sarek. Several rivers are impossible to cross at any time. In order not to cut the park into pieces for hikers, these bridges have been built. I had always been drawn to them. Imagine following the map and compass to a bridge to which no trails lead!

The decision for this hike was quick. I started feeling a bit lethargic at the pleasant family vacation home in the glorious summer weather. A week and a half later I bought a map, a compass and some food and off I went. At this time the bright midsummer nights in Stockholm were slowly fading away, but in Sarek it was still light all night and no need for a flashligth.

First evening: After a 17 hour train ride from Stockholm and then two more hours by bus, I was ready to start hiking at 6:15 PM. It was hot and sunny, and I hiked for over three hours to get away from the forest around Stora Sjöfallet ("The Great Waterfall") and up above timberline. Like all dam-able rivers in Sweden except one, it is now used for generating electricity. The mosquitoes were fierce and whirled around me all the time. But though I must have been stung hundreds of times or more, thinking back a couple of days later, I realized that there had been no itching. Was I getting immune? That would be wonderful! I was still climbing steeply, much higher than expected. 650 meters (2100 feet) above Stora Sjöfallet I felt too tired to continue in this terrain. Where to pitch the tent? There was no level place. But looking around I found a very marginal site that did not slant too much.

Day 1: Another glorious day! The bugs were all gone and I climbed a little further to reach a plateau. Now I could see the mistake I had done yesterday. Then I just kept going to get away from the bugs, thinking that I new the map in my head already. 150 meters (500 feet) far below me I could now see the lakes where I had planned to camp yesterday. Oh well, I got a great view instead! There were a few other tents at the lakes. I did not see any other signs of human life the rest of the day. I hiked down to the lakes and then climbed the pass on the other side.

I had decided that my first goal would be a climbable mountain, Låddebakte, with incredible views - a several days venture. Yesterday I had all been in meadows, but as I climbed up from the lakes it soon changed to rocks - not nearly as pleasant! There were rocks on this entire area, especially bad at the pass I soon crossed. After a high lake with superb views and several tiny passes, I descended down a steep gully. I had to cross the river somewhere and wanted to do it here in order to avoid a ford further down. The river emerged from steep snow and rushed down. Only by gingerly supporting myself on my two hiking poles and crossing three merging arms was I able to get across without getting wet.

The snow looked ominously steep right above me, so I did not linger. Further down the snow I walked on was getting too steep for my liking. But at this point it was easy to climb the gully on my right. On the other side I found a beautiful meadow. Great views and a great campsite!

Day 2: Down and down I went to soon reach one of the bridges, one of the bridges without a trail attached to it. No, I did NOT want to ford this river! And then up a pass on the other side. The terrain was much gentler today than yesterday, and I saw several tents and hikers. On top I could see the lake on the other side as expected and - following my map memory - turned left and started going down. But after five minutes I did check the map against my memory. Oops! A ninety degree turn put me on the right track again.

I followed several lakes along a valley. And I encountered my first ford. Off with the warm boots, on with the sandals and enjoy ice-cold water for half a minute. It had clouded over and the weather looked threatening. Though there are no formal trails in Sarek, enough hikers have walked from the main entrance along the Rapa valley to create an informal trail. I looked for it and found it after a while - it is marked on the map - and followed it towards my goal, the Låddebakte mountain.

I had come to Sarek to find a place where there are no trails, where you do not follow a trail. But the map showed the trail passing an incredibly steep mountain side, and it looked likely that I would not be able to ascend it any other way. It started to rain and it soon rained hard. Meanwhile the side slope got steeper and steeper. The "trail" became big boulders that slanted dangerously away from the hill, all intermixed with steep sand and gravel. It switching up and down constantly. Many times I had to use my hands, and even then it was difficult. Of course, the pouring rain didn’t help.

I think this is the worst trail I have ever followed. The only possible contender is a jungle trail in Halong Bay in Vietnam, where Surain and I hiked in year 2000. But finally, much later, I emerged at a more level place below the Låddebakte mountain. It had stopped raining and I walked a few steps to the side to get a better view. Below me I could behold the famous Rapaädno river (Rapa river in the Lap language) and above me mountains and glaciers. As there was a stream nearby, I decided to pitch my tent right there instead of continuing to the lake a little bit further - I love view tent sites.

Day 3: A cloudy morning obscuring the mountain tops. A hiker along the way had told me that a high pressure was on the way for tomorrow. I decided that it would arrive earlier and clear the skies for me. So I left the tent standing and headed up the Låddebakte mountain. I had to pass the swiftly flowing river from the lake just above. But I managed leaning heavily on my two hiking poles. As I crossed I realized that the water might be higher later on the way back down. Later problem.

I climbed on the rocks fairly steeply but it was not too difficult - certainly easier than on the trail yesterday! The views got broader and broader and I got a good view of the lake near my tent. And then the clouds took over. But it wasn’t too much further to reach a summit. Unfortunately there were only clouds to be seen up there. Very occasionally they opened up a bit and I could look down on the Rapaädno.

I felt fairly certain that I had not reached the real summit yet, but the clouds never opened up to tell me for sure. So I hiked a bit further to be sure. Though the real summit wasn’t all that much higher, I found it pointless to climb to even thicker clouds. So down I went, and was soon below the cloud layer again. The river to cross had risen a bit, but after a while I found a spot where I could cross it without getting wet.

It was now noon and for a while I reflected on continuing. But this was probably the best viewpoint of the entire hike, so I decided to lay low in the afternoon and hope for sun tomorrow morning.

Was I ever glad I did! It had been windy on top of the mountain, and now it came hurtling down. My tent was at an extremely exposed place. It felt like the wind God wanted to teach me a lesson. The tent has endured much wind in the past, but never anything like this. Rain started, harder and harder. Under the noisiest flapping of the tent fabric, the inner tent became unprotected and some water seeped in. I started wiping it off with my towel. Later I had to wring the towel out now and then.

The wind increased even more. Would the tent stand up? This was the first time I had even worried about it. What would happen if it didn’t? Would my sleeping bag stay dry under a collapsed tent? Probably not. Could I move the tent to a less exposed place? One of the poles just bent and bent, and I held my hand against it in the strongest gusts. Not sure it was necessary, but I didn’t want to take chances. The other pole came loose, but I managed to jerry rig it. Two hikers came by to check the tent, but I told them I was fine. They were on their way down that terrible trail. I told them it was very unpleasant, but soon regretted not having told them Don’t do it under these conditions!

At six PM both the wind and the rain stopped, and it was all silent. I stepped out. It was easy to fix the loose pole - I must not have tightened it securely enough. And I also moved the tent stake that held the pole that had bent so much. I could have positioned it a little better from the beginning.

It turned out to be a short breather. Half an hour later the wind and the rain came back. The wind had shifted dramatically from southeasterly to northerly. I assumed it was a good sign - it would have been further south. Though it was still very strong, it had eased a bit and the tent had no further problems, and there was but little water seeping. But how the rain pelted down on me, even harder than before! A couple of hours and it finally stopped, and I could go to bed. I heard more rain during the night.

Day 4: What a glorious sunny day! The colors were so much brighter and it looked so much more inviting today. The trail passed the first lake, and then a smaller lake before dropping down to the Rapa valley. It continued into the trees in a southeasterly direction to eventually leave Sarek and meet the Kungsleden (the King’s Trail), a well traveled trail.

One person I had met had told me not to drop down to the river, but to stay high and follow it from high above instead. I realized that I did not ask why, but decided to follow the advice anyway.

The trail quickly disappeared below me, down into the forest. As I would later discover, it would remain in the forest without views, until it much later and further down would follow the rivers edge. Great for plant lovers, but not for view lovers like me. My route followed along the mountain side without too many ups or downs, but on my right side it fell very steeply down, and I used the poles for additional support in case I would slip. It was high above the Rapa valley, and I really enjoyed the views - especially of the famous delta. At times - and most often - I would walk on grass, lichen, or small bushes, and the going was pretty easy. At other times I had to force my way through larger brush or even small trees, and the going was much harder.

And all the ravines - so many of them. Often they were covered with gnarled trees, hard to penetrate. And often they were too steep for me, forcing detours. I found myself slowly climbing higher to try to avoid them. A particularly big ravine had a swiftly flowing river in it. This ended up being ford #2.

I kept on going for a few hours. Then I had a couple of minor slips. I must be getting tired. This would be a really bad place for a bigger slip. I was alone and far away from the trail. The trail being in the forest, nobody would see me anyway. So I headed down along a steep meadow, and then a long way down on rocks to the forest. The rocks are easier to walk on than through thick shrubs (the other alternative). Before disappearing in the forest I set my compass course.

Now for some real bushwhacking! Trees, fallen down branches, brush, shrubs, etc. The going was certainly not very easy at times. The map showed a trail running near the Rapaädno, so I headed that way. And I eventually found it there. What a difference walking on a real trail! It felt like entering the freeway from a bad gravel road. Most Swedes wear heavy, specially designed rubber boots, and at the bogs you can certainly see why. Because bogs there are many. I had been very happy with my real hiking boots on the steep slopes, but bog walking is entirely different.

On the bogs there are typically lots of tussocks spread around. Usually they will support your weight for a while at least, since you sink slowly and can quickly move on to the next one. But at times you will run into tussock-less areas with a little more open water … though I don’t think I got too wet here.

I chatted with a couple about river fording. They said that the next one was coming up soon. Both in Sweden and the US it is recommended not to cross swiftly flowing rivers where the water reaches higher than the knee. Further, use at least one pole when crossing, lean towards the oncoming water, and walk slowly upstream while crossing. Packs should be loose, so you can get out of them in case you fall. Always use footwear, since you cannot feel sharp rocks in ice cold water.

They had found it too difficult to cross where the trail was, so instead they had walked down to its mouth and forded it there. And sure enough, ford #3 soon came into view with all its milky glacial water (which you cannot see through). And I knew that I did not want to cross the river there. Here near the river the shrubs were high and thick and very hard to pass, and I felt like Tarzan as I forced my way through them heading downstream. After a while the ground was getting a little wet, so I switched to my sandals. I reached the river again, but hear it was much narrower. It must have branched into different arms. Could I cross it here? I thrust down a pole. No way! The pole disappeared almost completely under the water, and it still ran very swiftly. Ahead of me there was another river flowing, but with sand colored water instead of silt colored and flowing much slower. It must be coming from one of the lakes. Since it merged with the larger river here, I would have to cross here in order to proceed. But it was waist deep!

What to do? I walked back up along the silt river a bit, along arm #1. It was not too wide, but hard to see clearly, since the branches leaned out so far. And the branches were very thick and hard to penetrate. But I found a place where it was a bit narrower, and managed to get across - without stepping into the deep water - holding on to both poles and branches.

I could already hear the rushing water from arm #2. It seemed harder to cross. I did not want to give up, and re-cross arm #1. It was not possible to walk much further upstream, since this is where arm #1 and #2 branched off. And arm #3 was nearby. I fought my way through the branches - not easy! There were a few rocks in the middle of the branching point (between 2 and 3), and I managed to pole my way to them, crossing arm #2, and then to the shrubs on the other side, crossing arm #3. Wove! This was already my most difficult ford ever, and I wasn’t done yet. More poling and I crossed arm #4. Only arm #5 remained, the biggest one. But I was not going to give up at this point. Eventually I found a place where I could take the gigantic step across, holding on to poles and branches. But it wasn’t free - I saw my right sandal disappear into the water.

It was not more than half an hour until I reached ford #4, another milky, screaming glacial river. It divided right here into two arms. Off with the boots and on with the one sandal. I chose to cross just below the branch, since there would be less flowing water to cross. Arm #1 was not too hard to cross, but I found arm #2 too difficult. And suddenly I lost my second sandal while trying. So I re-crossed arm #1. It was now 4:30, so I decided to wait until tomorrow morning and pitched my tent. Rivers typically get bigger during the day as the snow melt increases. During the night the air cools off. Thus there is less snow melt and the rivers get lower. There were campsites on both sides of the river here!

Three men arrived about half an hour later and put on their sandals. They all crossed above the arm division, and I realized my mistake. The river does contain a bit more water there, but it is also wider, which means less pressure and slower speed - but still very fast! It was halfway above the knees when the first man crossed. In the middle it was even deeper, and even his very short shorts got all wet. I was glad it wasn’t me! The second and then the third man crossed a bit higher, and the river stayed halfway above the knee all the way. This did not look too bad, I thought, but still did not want to do it being alone. And the tent was already pitched.

Day 5: The river had slowed down noticeably, and I crossed fairly easily - bare foot - with the water reaching just above my knees. I followed the trail but noticed that it was not quite as good as it had been yesterday. A few times it seemed to disappear, but I managed to find it again. Suddenly ford #5 showed up, another fast milky river, that I managed to cross without too many problems. I kept following the trail a long ways, and it was slowly deteriorating. And then suddenly I couldn’t find it any more. I checked the compass for the first time since I left this morning, and to my chock I noticed that I had been hiking in north-north-easterly direction, rather than the expected south-south-easterly. I had simply relied on the trail, and now realized that it had not been a good idea. There must have been more than one trail when I left this morning, and I picked the wrong one. Yes, I know, I should have checked the compass, but it didn't seem necessary ...

So I set the compass course and dove into the forest again. But I hadn’t hiked so far, when I noticed that there was a small mountain to my left. It is easier to follow a mountain like this than to penetrate the forest, so I headed that way. To my delight I found a trail heading up the mountain in the right direction, and decided to follow it. It was quick and easy to follow for a while but then seemed to disappear.

So where was I? I had gained enough elevation to again get good views of the Rapaädno. There were two small mountains in the direction I wanted to go, and I hoped and sort of expected this to be the first one. I looked closely at the good view I now had, and looked again, and looked again - but could not but determine that I was on a third, larger mountain far away from where I wanted to be. Yes, I had a great view of the Rapaädno and from a great angle that I would not have come to by following the main trail (I did not say that it was worth it, did I?). Låddebakte is the second mountain from the right on the picture.

I followed the mountain in the direction I wanted to go, and was glad to soon again be on a trail. It was a fast trail and I now moved much quicker again. Soon I was back in the forest and was not too concerned that the trail went a bit more westerly than I wanted it to. And then the trail stopped at a ford of a milky river again. After a while I determined that it had to be the same river I had crossed this morning, ford #5. And I also realized that although I had hiked quite a bit this morning already, I was not very much closer to where I wanted to be. I had only gained the distance between the two fords, and was now a bit more upstreams than I should be.

I didn’t want to cross ford #5 a second time (which would have meant a third time as well), so once again I was back to bushwhacking. And back to follow a compass course. After a while I reached a big, oblong bog. This must be on the map. It was, and it showed the right, bigger trail just on the right edge of the bog. To my immense satisfaction I found it there a little bit later. I now move much faster again - until ford #6 shows up. It was clear water running slowly and easy to cross, though it reached halfway above the knees. I noticed that the trail was bigger now, and there were nice board walks above the bogs. How nice not to have to risk getting the boots wet! And there are lots of bogs in this area.

I hadn’t met anybody yet this morning. I heard later that some hikers decided to skip planned Sarek trips due to the heavy rains, worried about the fords. I followed the nice trail for quite a while - glancing at the compass now and then so I wouldn’t repeat the mistake of the morning. And then, suddenly, the trail disappeared completely, it seemed. Ahead of me was a big bog. I walked back a bit, and notice how wide and well marked the trail was. But then it just ended.

Except - through the bog were signs where people had probably hiked, as witnessed by the bent reed. I had followed such bent reed before, but it had been more obvious and the water had not been as open as here. And we were in an area with board walk over bogs, right? Because of the open water, I took off my boots and walked bare foot. I first followed the signs to some rocks in the middle of the bog. From there no obvious signs. So I quickly walked over to the closes "land" in the direction of the compass. At one place it was knee deep, so I was glad I didn’t have the boots on.

But low and behold! Here was the trail again, if a bit narrower. I soon noticed, though, that the board walks were gone. More bogs followed and though it was much harder to follow the trail through them, it was still pretty obvious. Many more bogs, solid "land" for a few meters, - and the trail disappeared. I looked and looked, and spend ten minutes trying to find it again. The trail was quite clear, and then there was none. I had lost four trails already, where I did NOT want to loose them, and did not want to loose this one. But I had to give up.

Bushwhacking again. I was mad at the trail for disappearing, and mad at myself for loosing this important trail. On the map the trail follows the Rapaädno, so I set the compass course this direction. I walked fast through trees, shrubs and bogs to get to the big river. And there was the trail - and I did not loose it again. And the boardwalks over the bogs were back. Only two more obstacles remain, two possible fords.

Maybe-ford #7 looked pretty benign and would have been easy to cross with rubber boots, but it was too deep for regular hiking boots. I didn’t feel like taking my boots off. There were rocks across, but oh so small and few and prone to rolling. A few were a little under the water. Stepping with just my toes on those under the water and leaning heavily on the poles, I advanced carefully to the other side. But the last rock rolled a bit, so one boot got a little wetter (not sure why I was so careful, I think that both my boots were pretty wet at this time).

Maybe-ford #8 was too deep for rubber boots as well. Could I use the fallen birch trees stretching across the river? I used the left pole, extended all the way, to hold my balance and walked out on the tree as far as it would hold my weight. On the right was a somewhat skinny tree, and then a thicker one further to the right. I probed the first one with my second pole. It sank just a little bit under the water. I wanted to put my right foot on the bigger tree, but there was a branch in the way. Well - I put my right toes and weight on the smaller tree, which sank down a bit but held, then quickly rearranged the left, balance pole, and stepped on to the bigger tree further right. And this way I managed to get across safely. Just wish somebody had been there and taken a picture!

I reached the end of the trail and the end of Sarek at 3 PM and had to wait two hours for the boat. Lots of mosquitoes again at this place. Very irritating, but they still did not itch. The boat brought me through the Rapa delta to the southern shore of lake Laitaure, from where the main trail of Sweden, Kungsleden (the King’s Trail) continues to the south. And then I hiked another hour plus until all of my body complained violently against going any further. And for once I obeyed. It had been a very hard day.

Day 6: I slept TEN hours during the night! I usually sleep six and a half or seven, so I must have been very tired. But today would be easy, only 19 kilometers (12 miles) to go - according to a friend who had hike it before - along a well used and maintained trail, right? Wrong! There were to be no easy days for me during this hike. It didn’t take long before I was tired already from yesterday’s hike. I knew I would have to climb a small mountain soon, and so I did. After that there were small ups and downs all the way. And rocks on the trail almost everywhere. No, the nice trail maintenance does not remove rocks! Being tired, the rocks slowed me down quite a bit, since I hiked slower there to avoid slipping. Where there were no rocks, I would move much faster by letting the arms and poles propel me forward. Fairly early on I decided to check in to the hikers’ lodge for the night and enjoy some comfort and restaurant food.

It seemed that I made progress very slowly. The explanation came at half-time. The trail I was to cover was not 19 kilometers, it was 33 kilometers (20½ miles) long! I had never in my life hiked that far carrying a heavy backpack. Would I be able to do it? By this time I was really, really looking forward to a real bed tonight. I was also running low on food, though I figured I had enough for tomorrow’s lunch maybe (I usually bring more reserve food, but the hiking had been so hard that I had consumed more than expected). I decided to continue for a while and see how long I would last.

Several hours before I had reached the end it started raining and soon gained strength. There was thunder and lightening and I knew my decision was made. I just had to make it. And after almost eleven hours I stumbled into the hotel under heavy rain.

Conclusions

This was the most difficult hike I have ever done, and that came as a surprise. Of course, I assume I would have found "the most difficult hike" much earlier after 26+ years of hiking. The previous hikes in Northern Sweden following normal trails had not been nearly as taxing (though Sarah and I hiked much more on steep snow last year), and even when we did some off-trail hiking, it was mostly a navigation issue.

I chatted with several people at the hiking lodge. One couple had hiked 30 kilometers today. They had done the same bushwhacking I had and probably even more, because there were no trails at all where they hiked. They thought that many people in Sarek have to struggle with similar forest hiking. We both agreed that we are "above-timberline" hikers and that the forest hike is just a necessary evil to get there.

Another man had hike in a less common area and not seen a soul for two days. He had forded a river where it was waist deep. (I guess my hike wasn’t that bad after all.) And my friend who had hiked Sarek three times had expected my hike to be very hard, but did not want to discourage me and thus said nothing!

Thoughts for the future:
- I probably should not hike alone when it is this difficult and I am far away from the trail
- my new sandals - I will have to get a new pair - need to be securely tightened to my feet