I push myself through the small door to compartment on the train where I’m sleeping this night. We seem to be four people travelling in here and our backpacks takes up most of the space. To begin with it’s a quiet group of guys so I put on my CD and let Sublime entertain me for a while.

At first I was going on this trip with Laurel and my sister. However as time went by the girl team now only consist of one member; me. I’ve been doing so much planning for Aconcagua that I almost forgot to think about this trip. The weekend before I left I dried my own food, and went through the gear I needed. This morning I arrived to Stockholm to see my sister and now the same evening I’m on the night train up to Kiruna.

When I wake up we have traveled not only in distant but also to a new season. I left Stockholm a warm August evening where the soft colors played in the dry air. We passed hills covered with pink angustifolium flowers, small lakes heated up by the summer sun. Today, as we are getting closer to Kiruna, I’ve reached autumn. Passing by the train window is a sparkling image of green, yellow and red, with the gray-blue hills disappearing into the horizon. The natures colors are always beautiful. All the contrast that it brings out, changing nuances and tones of the different seasons. It’s a well harmonized image, in all lights, weathers, day as night.

On the train I meet Martin, a Danish writer, who also are going to the Kebnekaise area. It’s great talking to a person who share the same passion for writing and when I get back to Lund I definite have to find his books and read them.

The bus ride from Kiruna to Nikkaloukta takes little less than an hour. Martin and I look at the mountain map, showing each other where we plan to go. Maps are actually a strange thing. A piece of paper covered with signs, symbols and abstraction saying it’s a picture of the real world, or is it the other way around. How the landscape interprets is a subject thing, two persons would never describe it the exact same way. You never see what you actually see, instead what you want to see depending on your mood and personality.

“God tur Malin” Martin says and I wave goodbye as I leave Nikkaloukta and start my 19 km long hike to the Mt Station. They call this trail the mountain highway, not that it’s a paved and an easy walk, but since so many people choose it on their way in and out from the mountain area. However it doesn’t take long before the red wooden houses in Nikkaloukta disappears in the sun glister and looming hills and I’m totally absorbed by the nature. I keep walking for hours without meeting another person.

The clouds travel quickly on the sky giving the landscape a more dynamic look. It feels as it’s pulling and dragging me towards a certain goal, though I’m still not sure what the goal is. When I’m out in the nature- not only this one, I attain a different life quality. My goal and meaning of the day enters a divergent path. The compulsion of my everyday life disappears, replaced by the silence of the mountains. The quietness of the nature is a rare thing that evanesce in the everyday noise. To take in this quietness is truly to live.

At the end of lake Ladtjojaure I suddenly see a well used backpack lying at the side of the trail and I stop to glance over the landscape without seeing the owner of the bag. I’m just about to continue walking when I see a butt sticking up among some grass plants by the lake shore. What is that person doing? Then I hear a big splash followed by “oh shit” and some more mumbled, I’m sure at the moment well picked bad words. Up from the swamp, covered in grayish slimy mud, with the cap turned backwards and some grass sticking up from the sunglasses stands, soon to my knowledge, Josh. The first image of him is quite unforgettable and I usually don’t laugh at people I don’t know, but here I can’t help myself. “Hej du i träsket!” He looks totally surprised when he sees me and after a while he says. “Sorry, what?”. He runs up the little hill and by now I can see his quite impressing camera equipment. “Hey you in the swamp” I repeat.

Josh is a Canadian nature photographer and has traveled through Europe the last seven months and now he has landed in the Swedish wilderness trying to capture the spirit of this landscape. He has the biggest smile, a short but messy hair, hazelnut eyes and a bright and honest laughter that makes the green-yellow birch leaves tremble. Josh talks and laughs a lot, often at his own or other people mistakes. His description of the Swedes is right on, and he seems to be able to see peoples true side at first glance. The only time Josh shuts up is when he finds something he thinks is worth picking up his camera for. Then his eyes becomes narrow, the smile disappears and he enters another world often not seen by normal persons. I never met a person who can lie still for three hours starring at some lingon berries waiting for the right moment to snap a picture.

Josh and I walks along the trail for little over an hour, then he decide to stop and put up his tent. He wants to take some photos of the lake from the west side and he is waiting for the right evening light. Josh mostly works in the early hours or in the evening. During the day he moves to a new spot or do what he loves the most; relax. So I say goodbye to the master of relaxing and continue my way on the more rocky trail towards the Mt Station. By this time I’m getting really tired and I’m worried about being in bad shape. However then I realize that I’ve eaten far too little today. A small sandwich is not enough when you are doing a 6 hours hike with a heavy backpack. Instead of eating something, which would have been the smart move, I continue hiking.

Walking alone, especially when you are starting to get tired and you let your mind loose, you think of strange things. After a while I can’t control my thoughts and then I realize what a sick sense of humor I actually have. I often laugh at myself and if I would dare to tell someone they would probably think I was insane. When I walked with Josh I suddenly told him I thought I saw that little cartoon guy with blue hair, “Plopp, Plump” or something I try to explain for him. Josh laughs for about 20 minuets. “I’ve never heard about that cartoon and even if I did I would never in my imagination see him out here” he says. Okay, so I’ve a sick mind, but I’m certain there is a cartoon called that.

I stumble on with my own imagination and a headache until I’m 20 minuets away from the mountain station. Then I find a beautiful spot among the small birch trees overlooking a brook and the Kebnekaise mountains. I can also see the small hill which marks the Mt Station, however it feels far away now and staying here for the night seems as the perfect choice. I put up my tent, cook a quick dinner then I sit and look at the landscape as if I can’t get enough of it. Is it possible to fall in love with a certain nature? After the rest and eating dinner, the hill by the Mt station seems much closer, as if someone moved it. Isn’t it strange how you can look at the world differently depending on your own mood. I could easily hike to the station now, however this is far too beautiful to walk away from.

Sometimes you don’t feel lonely even if you are totally alone. I can feel more alone in a crowd than I do out here. Some people cant stand being alone, but I think it’s because they don’t feel safe with their own thoughts. I think it’s important to investigate yourself and see where your mind takes you. Some people say they know exactly who they are and where they stand. To me that seems sad, as if they stopped evolving. I discover new things about myself every day, both comforting, scary and surprising things.

At home you get so much information from TV, music, books, school, work and friends. A persons mind is an incredible thing and it’s best used when you have nothing controlling it. I think it’s great to let my thoughts escape. Without my imagination I think I would die and wither away, like a plant that you won’t give water. With my imagination I can lift myself out from my scheduled everyday life to a world without boundaries. That’s probably why I like this nature, it doesn’t have anything holding it back, no outer boundaries.

Light. I wake up. The sun is shining but it’s still a bit chilly this early morning, so I put on my cap and curls out of the tent to make breakfast. Suddenly I can hear someone coming walking up the slippery trail to where I’ve put my tent. “Oh fuck” then I hear branches breaking. It’s definite Josh. “Malin….food” he puffs. After breakfast we both hike the last part over to the Mt station.

At the station I see a note that totally surprise me. “Malin Andersson call Christer at TV3”. When I was up here in March, we did a winter attempt for the South Peak with two guys from this TV channel. I know Christer is going to Mt Blancs soon, maybe he has come up here too. When I call him he doesn’t answer, which means I’ve to ponder about this the entire day.

I put up my tent west from the station, Josh wants to put his lower in the valley and then he is going to sleep. I want to go for a hike, so Josh tells me to come by his tent on my way back.

As I take off, my first plan is to reach the peak of Tuolpagorni. It’s a mountain with a crater shaped cauldron, which almost is a more distinct symbol for the Kebnekaise mountains than the South Peak. I follow the west trail. Shadows of the clouds and sun-gleams hunts each other over the vast expanses and I’m enjoying this beautiful nature more than words can do justice. What people find beautiful is truly a subject thing. I have a natural talent for always seeing the beauty in both nature and in people, being the optimistic smuck that I am. Out here it’s really easy to find beauty, there is something irrational and unseizble about this nature. It’s the same thing with freedom, love and time, things that can’t be seized. It’s a continuum without a start or end that never seems to stop. I often feel as if I want to stop time, because something is so beautiful or just right. It can be with a person or just nature in it’s own. Often I can’t put a finger on what’s so right about it, I just know I want to seize the moment as it is. Here in this landscape I get a different connection to the unseizble. Suddenly time stops, sometimes just for a second often for a few days.

I usually don’t trek with a stick, I forget it everywhere and it’s always in the way. However I realize today that brining a stick would have been a smart move. Here are bigger and smaller brooks and waterfalls everywhere which I have to cross. I brought a pair of sneakers that I put on crossing the deeper brooks. I don’t want to get my hiking boots wet and doing it barefoot is not a great idea. Your feet will get numb from the cold water, which makes it real easy to slip if you are barefoot. You should always try to cross at the widest spot where the brook won’t be so deep and the water slows down. Then there is the matter of the stick, it gives you balance as a third leg, and you can also check how deep the brook is. You should never cross where the water reaches higher up on your thighs.

The first smaller brooks I crossed without any hard work, however at Kittelbäcken I meet some problems. I thought I had to cross the brook here to get to Tuolpagorni, however I later found out that the trail goes to the left of Kittelbäcken and it’s easier to cross up in the dale. It has rained a lot the last few days and the brook is rather deep and cloudy, which makes me suspicious. You never know the forces lurking within it. As I step out I immediately stand with water up to my thighs. With a stick I could have made it, but when you are trekking on your own it’s stupid to take any risks. After several tries along the brook my feet feels totally numb. My mind tells me to give up, though my heart is still set on crossing this brook. In fact I don’t even care about the peak of Tuolpagorni anymore, today’s goal has suddenly turned into crossing Kittelbäcken.

I hike down next to the brook trying to find a good spot to cross, then I suddenly see it, standing there alone in the grass in the middle of two streams. “You are my new best friend” is my first spontaneous comment. Totally excited about my discovery I jump over the first stream and pulls up the old skiing pole from the grass. I name my new best friend Mr Pole. I realize it’s a rather dull name for a person who say she has a great imagination, however at this point it was what popped up in my mind. Mr Pole and I hikes up the brook, then I find a good enough spot to cross. Once again I put on my cold and soaking wet sneakers and without any immense problems I finally cross Kittelbäcken. Yeah! With Mr Pole it wasn’t any hard task at all, however by this point it is getting a bit too late to reach Tuolpagorni. Instead I decide to walk into the next dale “Singivagge” and then turn down to the trail going from Singi.

I can’t stop looking at the sky as I walk down to the trail dotted with small people making their way towards the Mt Station. Clouds, this both dark and light medium that slowly makes its way towards west in the horizon. It is about five PM when I also reach the trail and starts to hike back to the Mt Station.

At the station I ran into Martin who are tired after his hike from Nikkaloukta. He has decided to stay two nights at the Mt Station and go up to Tarfala and the glacier station the next morning. I have gotten a new message from Christer and it turns out that he wants me to tag along with him to Mt Blancs. I can’t really afford going since I have to save money for Aconcagua, however Christer says he will pay for my tickets if I tag along. Oh my, how can a girl resist such an offer.

I stay at the station and watch the presentation of the guided tours, then I sign my name for the South Peak climb. In the stations little shop I suddenly see a children’s book. “Plupp” I almost scream. Ha, I knew that little blue haired cartoon guy existed. I just have to buy the book for Josh and at 9,30 PM I leave the station and walk over to his tent. I find Josh on a big rock taking the last pictures in the sinking sun. We sit there talking while watching the landscape fall asleep in the soft bed of the night. Then we go down to Josh’s tent and I translate Plupp for him while drinking Danish beer that Josh brought all the way up here. It is a bit too late as I walk back to my tent in the silence of the blinking stars. I have to get up early tomorrow for my climb.

“It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right. I hope you had the time of your life” I wake up to the sound of “Green Day”. Major flash backs from US last summer, I might as well have been in the tent at Lake Tahoe as here at Kebnekaise. It takes me a while before I wake up and realize that the music is coming from the Mt Station. I pack my day bag for today’s climb then I hit the kitchen to make breakfast. There I meet Martin who are going up to Tarfala today. Martin and I seems to see the nature here in similar ways. Other people I’ve talked to haven’t the same experience, or maybe they do, but they are not aware or unable to express it.

Out in the bright sun I can see Jeff sitting in only his khaki pants drinking beer and fixing with his camera equipment, doing the type of relaxing he loves. Josh doesn’t like too much hard work and is not fond of long days trek or climbing peaks. He thinks people up here, especially me, have far too much energy. As I walk up to him the helicopter suddenly flies in over his head. “Vertical limit” we scream. For you haven’t seen this seriously rotten movie, there is a scene just like this from K2’s basecamp where two brothers are doing the type of relaxing that Josh is a professional at. “Malin those two brothers dies in a rescue attempt. You better come down the peak yourself, I don’t want to come up and get you”.

As the rest of the group gather up for today’s climb Josh shouts at me “Hey Malin, you look tired. Sorry to keep you up in my tent last night”, then he gives one of his famous laughs. He is the biggest tease. Some of the group members gives me a strange look, they don’t know that Josh actually is gay. Something I figured out when he told me to look at a cute guys butt the other day.

Our guides, Kristian and Niklas, are taking us up the east trail, and you are not allowed to do this without a guide since it involves climbing and glacier travelling. It’s the same way as I took in March, so I know what to aspect. It's a 15 KM climb and about 1500 meters in altitude. The first person to reach the South Peak was Charles Rabot in 1883. By this time the Swedes didn’t even know the South Peak with its 2114 meters were the highest peak of Sweden. A few decades ago they wanted to find a trail to take up tourist on. A guinea-pig were send out on the east trail, and he came back saying it was impossible to bring tourists up this way, he have had a 50% chance to survive himself.

It’s a steep climb straight up for a few hours. Walking up I don’t feel tired at all, I’m just enjoying this. Compared to the torment from the Randonnée tour, this feels like a walk in the park. However I keep my mouth shut about this, otherwise the people struggling most likely will kill me.

We stop for a short lunch and as I turn around the true map of the world is under my feet. The dales, lakes, brooks and the winding trail we just walked on. By this point three persons have given up and turned around. After lunch we reach Björlingsglaciär, and here is extremely slippery. I find myself walking as if I drank ten tequilas for lunch.

In front of us we have the mountain wall which we are climbing up. The people who so far have denied their phobia for heights are suddenly getting a gray white look in their faces. I think a little climbing wakes up the life spirit in you. I hardly ever feel this total freedom anywhere else, as I do when I climb mountains. To climb over these steep slopes, narrow cliffs and finally to reach a jagged and rocky peak. Every step and grasp is surrounded with air and each breath I take feels as a confirmation to why I love it. Freedom.

As we climb up Niklas tells us to shout “rocks” if we manage to roll some down. It’s as the miners say, “only the small rocks will hurt you, the big ones you won’t even feel”. We reach the top hut and after a short rest we continue the last hour over the rocky ground to the white sugar top and the highest point of Sweden.

The peak itself is very small and icy, however not very hard to reach. If you were to slip and fall down you will get the ride of a life time to one of the glaciers.

We are secured with ropes the last few steps up the glacier covered peak. Finally there, the northern part of Sweden opens up for me as an astounding soft and hilly image stretching out into the horizon. One begins to understand why some people believe gods live on mountain tops. It’s a place where the world feels infinite and you are only a small brick in something much greater. Within the long distance I can see, the whole landscape is altered from winter, to fall and far away in the horizon late summer. They say you can see 1/11 of Sweden from the peak and up here I almost believe it.

On the way down the melodrama begins as we get stuck in the climbing sequence with the people whom on the way up turned a bit grayish in the head. Several persons gawks into the cliff wall as if the precipice behind them will disappear this way. There’s also a lot of nervous drumming fingers playing the mountain wall like a grand piano. To make matter worse we probably scares them to death when we gladly sits on the cliff edges swinging our legs and looks at the mighty glacier beneath us. The guides do a tremendous job though and after two nail-biting hours we are all safe down at the glacier again.

We cross the glacier where the snow and ice has melted in the warm sun. It feels like walking around in a huge frozen margarita. Imagine having a big straw, what a party! When we reach the edge of the glacier and the valley stretches out beneath us, the most fun part starts; sliding on our butts down in the snow. I’m always a big child, however people of all age and character usually enjoy this. You can get up an enormous speed and the trick is to know how to stop. The most common accident here is people who crash into the rocks beneath and breaks their feet.

Well down at the station I’ve the biggest grin on my face. Today has been one of those days you wish would never end. “Are you tired at all” Josh says as I jumps joyfully between some rocks. Me knees look like watermelons but otherwise I feel almost too good. I feel even better after a shower, sauna and dinner with Martin. Martin is leaving the station tomorrow to hike down to Singi. However we are on the same train home so I will hopefully see him there. Martin have had a great day in Tarfala and I hope to get to do the glacier tour there tomorrow. They have a minimum of three persons, so after the evenings presentation I go down to test my luck. I’m starting to give up as two guys from today’s climb comes in. I quickly convince them to come with me, then I go over to Josh’s tent again.

Josh curls around on the ground trying to find a good angle for shooting a small waterfall. I sit on a rock starring at the black silhouettes of the mountains in front of me. “Where are you?” Then I realize Josh is now taking pictures of me instead. “You were so far away, but that’s good. You are a great motive when you look contemplative”. Then I realize that I don’t have a single photo of him, that has got to change. “Doctors are bad patients just as photographers are bad motives” he tells me. We sit there on the rock talking forever until the light conquers the night, then I finally returns to my tent.

It’s early morning when I leave my tent and walk down to the mountain station. It's a clear and crisp morning with a little dense and clouds rolling like a veil along the mountain walls. I’m rather tired as I stand outside “Sporten” waiting for Kjell and Magnus, the guys I’m doing the glacier tour with. Our guide is Daniel who hands out our glacier gear, then we start to walk down to the suspension-bridge that crosses “Tarfalavagge”. The trail up is steep with a lot of rocks, nevertheless it’s a beautiful climb up the most spectacular dale in Kebnekaise. Daniel tell us about the mountains and how this area keeps changing. The earth’s history can be traced in the rocks on the ground, both the slow progress and the sudden catastrophes. Sometimes I wish rocks could talk, still only by looking at them tells us about ice ages, warmer periods, animals and plants that used to live here. The oldest parts of the mountains the “primary rocks”, on which the Kebnekaise mountains rest, were created for about 600 million years ago. Daniel show us a so called window where we can see the primary rocks. It’s almost too much to grasp.

As we come up the rocky top of the trail I’m hit by the most spectacular view. We are standing here surrounded by our countries biggest glaciers that frames the emerald-green Lake Tarfala. To the east of the lake is the science station and further in the Mt Station of Tarfala.

About 10 000 years ago this area was covered by the latest ice age that according to some sources started around 120 000 years ago. When it was as widest it covered the entire Scandinavia, major parts of England and Northern Europe. They say it has been over 3000 meter thick. As the ice age ended the glaciers we see today became really small or even disappeared, however during the last 1000 years with its cold period they have grown again. The retouch of the outer scale of these mountains are shaped after the last ice age. What we see is under constant change, to say that this area is eternal is therefor wrong. The ice moves every day.

We sit down by the lake, at an old delta now named the “Cricket plane”. Here the mountain stations at Kebnekaise and Tarfala have their yearly game. Daniel tells us that the Swedish military put up their camp here when they have winter practice. The Finish military put their camp on one of the glaciers to make it a living hell for their men. According to Daniel people in Finland connect outdoor sport with suffering. No pain, no gain. Which makes me laugh since Josef, the guide I had last time up here, came from Finland. I think it’s the truth about some Swedish people too, and I’m probably one of them. I’ve a little Finish devil in me.

After lunch we climb up a small ridge of large rocks which rests on the glacier. We are going to take a hike on Storglaciären which is the glacier where the science station does most of their research. To walk here with a guide feels safe, and I find myself jumping over the one crack after another without any problems. Just a week before I came up here they had a none guided team that in bad weather fell down into a crack. Also a week after I came home a terrible accident happened up here. The glacier took another life.

In the south the sun tears up long blue stripes in the thin gray mat. When the sun comes out the glacier turns from white to a sparkling turquoise image. To me this area is a union of idyll and drama. The severe beauty of the mountains around Kebnekaise have been described as a union between two opposites; the hard mountain that has been created through enormous pressure and heat in the interior of earth towards the ice that has been created of outer powers as coldness.

Daniel finally finds a well, which is a round crack where water streams have turned down the ice. They can go down very deep and if you fall into one without being secured then you will probably never see daylight again. We are going to be let down into one now. We are safely secured as Daniel let us down. Being in the well I can hear the glacier move and it gives the feeling of the enormous power that is captured in the glacier. This well is still alive, so to say here are still water dripping down. I go as far down as the rope will let me. It’s dark and wet. An amazing feeling with a scary and suggestive beauty.

After a great hike we start to make our way down the dale again. I love the contrast in this nature. The stillness stands against the chaos of the mountains and the glacier. The soft idyllic green dales against the harsh desolateness of the peaks. The quietness when I’m alone versus Josh’s laud laughter. The warm sunset last night towards the cold ice on the glacier. Life against death

“Are you awake” Josh sticks his head into my tent. “No” I say without looking at him. “Well, you are now” and then he drags me out from my sleeping bag. We eat breakfast out in the sun. We are hiking together today along the west trail up Kittelbäcken. My main goal is actually to reach the peak of Tuolpagorni, though I don’t tell Josh that. The word peak makes him turn and run away.

It’s a rather steep climb up, and I can hear Josh struggling behind me. He seems to be in a fantastic mood though, and halfway up I have pain in my stomach for laughing too much. Up in the dale we are surrounded in east by Björlingsglacier and in west are the peaks of Tuolpagorni and Vierramvare. It all frames in a small lake which in the sunlight glisters as a picture from a story book. As we eat lunch the clouds are starting to make their way up from the valley. The weather is obviously changing. “How do you feel about reaching Tuolpagorni today, we are pretty close?” I ask. To my surprise he says yes. “But if you on our way down suggest the South Peak because we are so close, then I kill you” he says with a smile.

Tuolpagorni and Vierramvare are just two big piles of rock. We are climbing up in the gap in between them. It looks very steep from here and Josh glances suspiciously at me. “Above that snowfield we are at the edge. Then we climb to the peak.” I say. Though I suspect the edge actually is a bit further up. It’s a very boring climb among the loose rocks and we keep sliding back. The rock warnings, on the way to the south peak, would have had to be said as a mantra here “rocks, rocks, rocks”. Josh says it sounds more like a bad American rap song and immediately sings a few tunes for me. As we continue our way up we add the one more bizarre line after another. When we reach the top of the snowfield and what seems to be the edge, we have to sit down and rest. We still have quite a long way to go, which Josh lets me know with an angry face.

The clouds are now covering the peak and soon we are surrounded by an opaque vapour, whos curtains moves soundless along the slopes. I bring out my compass to take the direction, just in case. We can still see about 50 meters in front of us.

After seeing more rocks than we can bare we finally reach the jagged peak of Tuolpagorni. There is a gap in the clouds where we can see parts of Kungsleden leading up to Abisko. However looking down over the crater is only a white screen. We sing our “rock” rap song to the mountain gods then we start to climb down again.

By now the sight is only 1-2 meters and I’m glad to have my compass. We stumbles down rather quickly and back at the lake I’m surprised to hear that Josh think it was fun. “You have inspired me to climb more peaks in the future” he says. I take that as a compliment, because if he finds climbing around in loose rocks with no sight what so ever fun, then I’ve to be inspiring as hell.

Well down in the valley Josh is moving his tent further down towards Singi. I hate goodbyes, yet somehow I know I’ll meet Josh somewhere again. He is the kind of person you run into at the most bizarre places, as a food market in India, a basecamp in Himalayas or a beach bar in the Bahamas. We will meet again.

I open up the tent, only to find myself starring into a gray wall stretching itself in the west. The rain is poring down and it isn’t very appealing at all as I put on my rain clothes and goes for a small hike in the valley. My plan is to wait to the afternoon and then walk halfway towards Nikkaloukta and put up my tent. The plan doesn’t seem too much fun right now.

After a warm shower I go to the fireplace to read. I sit there for several hours looking into the fire, chatting and drinking tea. Most people have now decided to fly with the helicopter back to Nikkaloukta. It does seem a little appealing, though it still feels against my principles. After four hours by the fireplace I’m starting to get bored. The rain is still poring down, nevertheless I decide to pack my tent and walk out now. The others think I’m crazy for going out into this weather, but I guess it’s the Finish devil in me that says it is a good idea to torture myself in this weather.

As I pack my tent I meet a lady who is relieved to finally reach the station. It’s not because of the weather. She has been camping alone for the last four nights and has been reading a book called “The murders along Kungsleden”. As I walk out from the station area I can’t stop laughing at her. If you are scarred of the dark, then why do you choose a scary book taking place at the same trail you are walking alone on.

When I hike I don’t take notice of the rain playing the tune against my rain clothes. It only feels good to be moving again. Sometimes the clouds dissolves and sunlight shines through them, only to disappear just as quickly again. It dazzles and gives hope of warmth and brighter weather- then the moist cold wind returns again.

Half way past Lake Ladtjojaure I stop to put up my tent. I spend the evening chatting with an old man that passed my tent in his homemade black square rain cover, looking like a mobile home. At first sight, without my contacts in, I thought he was a bear coming up the trail.

Silence. I wake up by the quietness and I’m relieved that the rain rattle against my tent have stopped. After breakfast I hike the last part back to Nikkaloukta to return home to the everyday life and the late summer in south of Sweden. To begin with I look forward to the ride home, since I know a lot of people taking the same train as I. However in Kiruna my first encounter with civilization is a drunk man from Finland in a black cowboy hat and a breath to kill. “Swedish women are so cold, come here and talk to me” he shouts from the other side of the waiting room. After listening to several unfavorable serenades in Finish, half an hour of swearing and an attack against an old man, we finally call the police. As he tells me his depressing life story, I decide to take back what I said about having a Finish side of me. “My wife left me, can you believe it???” he says so close to me that I my eyes pungent of the strong smell of gin. “Yes” I say and steps up on the train....