***  SWEDEN  2013   -  WEEKS 9~10  ***

This week's Photo Gallery  Wild Flora of Swedish Lapland Bottom of Page Return to Index Page

CAMPING IN SWEDEN 2013 - across the Arctic Circle to Jokkmokk,  Muddus National Park,  Porjus hydro-electric power station and Harsprånget dam,  the crash-site of WW2 Lancaster bomber Easy Elsie,  Gällivare's iron ore mines,  Kiruna a town on the move,  Abisko National Park and Norwegian border:

North to Jokkmokk:  in pouring rain we left Arvidsjaur to rejoin the E45 Inlandsvägen northwards towards our next destination Jokkmokk. With misty cloud down to tree-top level and much road spray from lying water, the forested, hilly terrain was totally obscured and rivers running in white-water spate. We hoped that in such driving rain and poor visibility any reindeer would have the sense to stay off the road in the shelter of the forest, but we passed one forlorn-looking beast grazing the road-side verge.

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for details of Swedish Lapland

40kms north in the village of Moskosel, we paused at at the small and unassuming museum at the Inlandsbanan railway station where the collection of photos and memorabilia tells the story of the dreadful conditions endured by the gangs of navvies who constructed the line and the womenfolk who cooked for them at their rail-head encampments. Somehow driving in such awful weather seemed comfortable compared with the hazards of advancing the railway across such inhospitable wilderness.

Crossing the Arctic Circle:  some 4 kms south of Jokkmokk, we reached the notional line of the Arctic Circle - Polcirkeln in Swedish, Napapiiri in Finnish. Thankfully there was no overt over-commercialism, just an intelligently worded information panel describing how the earth's angle of tilt causes the Arctic Circle's movement. Defined as the southernmost latitude in the Northern Hemisphere at which the Midnight Sun can be seen on the night of the Summer Solstice, the Arctic Circle moves north and southwards across an area of 180 kms over a period of 40,000 years; it will reach its northernmost position in the year 12,000, returning to its current position in AD 22,000 and reaching its southernmost line in 32,000 and continuing to cycle north and south thereafter if you care to hang around to witness this curious phenomenon. Tacky as it seemed, we could not let our second 'crossing of the line' pass without a photo, and even the rain stopped to honour the occasion (Photo 1 - Crossing the Arctic Circle).

Driving on into Jokkmokk, we were welcomed at Skabram Stugby-Camping by the ex-pat Dutch couple who keep the small and peacefully hospitable campsite, good value at 170kr/night. It is clustered around the yard of a cheese farm whose products are on sale at reception, with chickens clucking around the camping area. The surrounding forest inevitably attracted midges, but after today's drive in appalling weather, we were thankful to settle in.

Fjällträdgård Botanic Gardens:  Jokkmokk takes its name in the Sámi language from its position on a bend in the Luleälven river. The surrounding municipality through which the river runs covers an area the size of Wales but with a population of just 3,000. On his expedition through Lapland in 1732, Carl von Linné, the Swedish botanist, likened it to an earthly paradise were it not for the midges; today was no exception, and the forecast for our day in Jokkmokk was not good. Our first stop was at the Fjällträdgård Botanic Gardens which display the wild flora of Norbotten province's fells and mountains. Set along sheltered embankments each side of a brook which tumbles from a small lake, the gardens are divided into sections representing the different types of terrain with the flora of each growing in semi-wild conditions: plants of the high fell-land where in winter the reindeer forage for lichen under the snow and of the Taiga coniferous forest belt included familiar species such as tiny Twin-flowers (Photo 2 - Twin Flower - Linnaea borealis), Labrador Tea and Bog Bilberry; down by the brook, flora of the birch forest meadows included tiny insectivorous Sundew, One-flowered Wintergreen their heads always shyly turned away and pendent Water Avens; an area of moist ground representing cold water springs supported pearly-pink globular Wintergreen flowers and flourishing Marsh Orchids, while on the higher ground characterising south-facing mountain slopes, lingonberries were already forming their first unripe berries; an area representing high fell heath-land above the tree-line supported a wealth of growth - Mountain Avens their flowers now succeeded by feathery fruiting heads, blue-lilac harebells and beautiful Grass of Parnassus flowers. Despite the swarming midges, we spent a contented 3 hours photographing all these wonderful flora, and such was our experience of the northern fell-lands after last year's Finnish trip that there was scarcely any species which we had not previously seen growing in the wild.

Ájtte Sámi Museum:  our next visit in Jokkmokk was to the Ájtte Sámi Museum (Ájtte meaning storage hut in the Sámi language) whose displays aim to illustrate both the traditional and modern ways of life of Sweden's indigenous Sámi peoples. We had last year been impressed with the scale of engaging displays at the equivalent Finnish Sámi Museum SIIDA in Inari; Ájtte had a lot to live up to. Despite Ájtte's prestigious standing, the displays' commentaries were only in Swedish and most visitors had to peer at poorly coordinated translation booklets; in the dim light, this was an eye-wearying and tedious distraction. One section detailed the intensely tough existence of the early Swedish settlers in these remote northern wilderness lands, another displayed the traditional costumes of Sweden's various Sámi areas and the contrasting traditional and modern reindeer herding life-styles, including a detailed account of the multiple uses of reindeer intestines and explanation of how a Sámi's worth and status was indicated by the number of silver spoons he carried on his belt (or perhaps we were reading the wrong translation paragraph!). However detailed the displays at Ájtte, the absence of multi-lingual commentary-panels at such a prestigious and expensive museum made this a disappointingly second rate alternative to its Finnish equivalent at Inari.

Muddus National Park:  the E45 Inlandsvägen heads north from Jokkmokk with the Inlandsbanan running parallel and the road curves past the huge Akkats dam constructed in the early 1970s amid controversy for its environmental impact on the natural landscape of the Lilla Luleälven river valley with a huge flooded area of the upper river forming a reservoir for the hydro-electric generating station. For the next 25kms the E45 crossed flatter open fell with occasional glimpses of higher forested land in the distance. Approaching the Stora Luleälven river, the road dropped steeply down to cross the Ligga dam; the rocky gorge below the dam was now totally dry and barren showing the degree of disruption to the river's natural state caused by hydro-electric power (HEP) production, while upstream the reservoir lake now flooded vast areas of fell-land. To reach the Muddus National Park, we turned off onto an unsurfaced lane below the Ligga power station (kraft verk in Swedish) where a maze of power lines added further to the fell-scape contamination. The lane led uncertainly along the banks of the Luleälven river for 10 kms ending at the car park at Skaite, the starting point for walks in the Muddus National Park which was set up in 1942 to conserve an area of undisturbed primeval Taiga forest with its virgin pines, ravines and mires.

Our objective today was to follow the 14km round-trip footpath through the forests alongside the Muddusälven ravine to the Muddusfallet where the river drops over spectacular 42m high waterfalls. With the midges more intense than ever, we kitted up with midge-helmets spraying ourselves with full-strength anti-midge repellent. The way-marked path gained height steadily through the forest of ancient pine trees crossing several water courses on board-walks. There was little by way of distinguishing features to monitor progress in the endless, almost monotonous pine forest, and the path twisted every-which-way both close to the gorge and away from it (Photo 3 - Walking in the Muddus National Park); although the way-markings were consistent, we just hoped that they were trustworthy for the return walk. After almost 3 hours of walking, longer than expected, we could hear the distant sound of rushing water although nothing was visible through the trees. The path eventually reached a fenced look-out point overlooking a vast basin in the canyon below into which the 2 stage falls dropped a full 42m; it was a truly magnificent spectacle, forming a worthy climax to the midge-ridden and featureless trek out to this lonely remote spot in the Muddus forests. Despite the poor light, we stood at this eyrie above the canyon which gave an unimpeded line of sight through the pines for our photos of the Muddusfallet waterfalls (Photo 4 - Muddusfallet Waterfalls). At 3-30 we set off for the 7km return walk. Initially route finding proceeded without difficulty, but approaching the gorge's edge we reached a fork, unnoticed on the outward walk, with both onward paths flagged with orange markers on the tees. A compass check confirmed the more prominent right fork to be the correct bearing south and we continued uncertainly since nothing seemed familiar; fortunately a distinguishing point on the route eventually gave us confidence to proceed and after 2 hours with the midges really bothersome we finally reached the car park. Without even removing boots, we hastened back along the dirt to the Ligga dam road to avoid midges swarming into the camper, and returned south to Jokkmokk for a final night at Skabram Camping. That night despite a clear sky, the surrounding forest trees prevented our seeing the Midnight Sun settling along the horizon; we wondered if, during the brief period of Midnight Sun in the Swedish Arctic, we should camp at a location with sufficiently open outlook on a clear night to witness the Midnight Sun this year.

Jokkmokk's seemingly old wooden church was in fact only built in 1976 as a replica of the 1753 original which burnt down in 1972 (Photo 5 - Wooden church at Jokkmokk). The simple interior was painted in traditional Sámi colours and outside, the boundary fence had openings for winter storage of coffins while waiting for the graveyard ground to thaw for spring burial.

Porjus hydro-electric generating station:  the following day, we returned north and across the Ligga dam the road climbed steeply uphill to reach the Harsprånget dam, the next of the series of 15 hydro-electric generating stations along the length of the Luleälven, the road's gradient indicating the drop in height on the river's course. A further 10kms uphill brought us to the huge complex of the Porjus dam and HEP station. Signs pointed down to the visitor centre at the impressively sized neo-Gothic building of the now redundant earlier power station (Photo 6 - Neo-Gothic building of Porjus Old Power Station). The wooden platform of the Inlandsbanan railway stood alongside the old power station building, and beyond that, overshadowed by the huge network of the power distribution complex, the Porjus golf course spread quite incongruously across the valley towards the dry river gorge below the new Porjus earth-fill dam which filled the middle distance (Photo 7 - Porjus dam and sluices from across the golf course). The golf course with its artificial grass greens was 'open June~October depending on snow conditions'. The old power station with its preserved turbines and generating equipment was open for visits, and since we were the only visitors that afternoon, the young fluently English-speaking guide gave us a personalised tour of the complex, with the history of the Porjus plant's construction, technical details of the different types of dam, physical layout and workings of a hydro-electric generating station, and the scale of HEP exploitation along the Luleälven river.

Vattenfall, the state-owned power generating and distribution company, began building the first of Sweden's HEP plants Olidan at Trollhätten in 1909 (we had seen this earlier) and is still a state enterprise although now partly deregulated to compete for business across the EU. It now manages all of Sweden's power industry, hydro, nuclear and wind-power, with stakes in power generation in Germany, Poland and Holland. 50% of Sweden's electrical supply is generated by HEP, the other 50% from its 3 nuclear reactors. The 15 HEP stations on the Luleälven, which drops 1000m from its source in the Norwegian mountains down its 450km length to the Bothnian Gulf at Luleä, supply 15% of the country's power. All of the Luleälven 15 dams are of the rock-fill type construction which rely on steady filtering of water through the semi-permeable core and broadly spread compacted rock and rubble build to control the pressure of water held back in the reservoir. All 15 of the Luleälven generating stations (kraft verks) are now remotely controlled from a central control station at Vuollerim part-way down the river.

The original dam at Porjus was begun in 1910 and was a vast construction undertaking in remote wilderness terrain through the darkness and freezing temperatures of the Arctic winter. The monumental project's original purpose was to supply electric traction for the Malmbanan railway taking iron ore from the mines at Gällivare and Kiruna to the ports of Narvik and Luleä. With no roads or railways, the early building materials and equipment to construct the dam and power station were carried in back-packs by navvies paid ½kr/kgm, along a 44kms trackway from Gällivare. The Inlandsbanan did not reach Porjus until 1927 and eventually followed the same route of the navvies' track (Rollarstigen). This pioneering building project was unimaginably harsh work and the dam/power station took 5 years to construct. King Gustav V was due to perform the opening in 1915, but WW1 made his monarchic venture to the Arctic too dangerous and the dam's inauguration was performed by telephone from Stockholm. The old Porjus dam and power station continued in operation until 1975 when the original solid-core dam was replaced by the present massive rock-fill dam with its underground kraft verk. The former Neo-Gothic buidling of the former power station has been retained as a heritage site; its machine hall 60m deep underground blasted out of solid rock still retains its turbines serving 9 generators, 7 of the original generating units now unused as museum pieces, and 1 replaced by a new experimental Powerformer which generates high voltage power connected directly to the grid without the need for step-up transformers with their inherent power loss.

We began our tour of the Porjus HEP station in the control room with its array of dials, centrepiece of which was the AC frequency metre. Our knowledgeable young guide explained the hydrodynamic working of the dam and HEP generating station: water is fed from the reservoir-lake down intake pipes to the turbines 60m below ground. The 2 crucial factors in determining the quantity of electrical energy produced from the kinetic energy of the water-driven turbines are head (the height difference between lake surface level and turbines) and flow (the quantity of water passing the turbines per unit of time), with generator power output equal to the product of head and flow. For this reason, the turbine and generators are located 60m below the water surface level, deep underground below the dam. After passing the turbines, used water has therefore to be piped downhill in underground conduits for some 1.5km until it reaches the lower level of the river's natural course, which explained why river gorges seen below dams were dry; the dam's outflow emerges by gravity further downstream. Donning hardhats as a token acknowledgement to health and safety, we descended by lift 60m underground to the machine hall where one of the turbines had been partially opened to demonstrate its working. Pressured water fell down a vast shaft into the enclosed turbine chamber, the rate of flow varied by hydraulically operated veins. The mighty steel drive shaft connecting the turbine to the generator and turning at 250rpm was itself a hugely impressive piece of equipment. The generator was also partly exposed to show its workings with the rotor/alternator turning within the circular electromagnet of the stator (Photo 8 - Generator in Porjus Old Power Station machine-hall). The noise level in the mammoth machine hall with all this machinery operating would have have been deafening, with doubtless no H-&-S enforced ear-protection in those days. Karin, our young guide, very competently explained all this working and answered our many questions. She also pointed out the manufacturer's plaque on one of the old generating sets, the ABB company in the 1930s having a swastika as its logo; during WW2 this had been replaced by a politically less sensitive emblem, all except this surviving example which now had rarity value. We were certainly grateful to Karin for her patience and impressive knowledge; doubtless the free access to the Porjus HEP station is part of Vattenfall's image-building PR programme but our visit had taught us much. We also leant that the following day would be the annual Porjus Waterfall Day when the dam's sluice gates would be opened to create a spectacular cascade temporarily re-flooding the normally dry river gorge below the dam, just as we had earlier witnessed at Trollhätten. We decided to return briefly tomorrow for this once-yearly event, but today we had something else to explore beyond the dam.

Crash site of RAF Lancaster bomber Easy Elsie:  before the trip, Paul had researched the location of an RAF Lancaster bomber which had crash-landed in remote Northern Swedish marshland some 10kms from Porjus after the 1944 attack on the German battleship Tirpitz. Setting the satnav for the site's coordinates, we crossed the Porjus dam and continued on a narrow lane along the southern shore of Lake Stora Lulevatten in our attempt to locate the remains of the crashed Lancaster.

Avro Lancaster NF-920 was produced at the Longbridge Austin works and delivered to 617 Squadron in August 1944 where it received the designation KC-E; its crew re-christened it Easy Elsie. The German battleship Tirpitz had been based at Kåfjord since 1943 and there it represented a constant threat to allied convoys supplying the USSR at Murmansk (see our log of 2012 visit to Kåfjord Tirpitz anchorage). Tirpitz had been damaged both by the midget submarine attack in September 1943 and by Operation Paravane flown in September 1944 by 617 Squadron Lancasters after refuelling at the Soviet airbase of Yagodnik. This was Easy Elsie's first operational mission; she was damaged by flak on the attack at Kåfjord but repaired and made airworthy again. Severely damaged by the air attack, Tirpitz was moved south to Tromsø Fjord which brought the battleship within flying range of UK. At 01-00 hours on 29 October 1944, 37 Lancasters of 617 Squadron including Easy Elsie, each stripped of armaments, modified with extra fuel tanks and carrying one 6 ton Tallboy bomb, took off from Lossimouth on Operation Obviate to attack Tirpitz at Kvaløya in Tromsø Fjord. They flew in across Central Norway into neutral Swedish airspace, turning NE over the mountains for the attack, but at the last minute however low cloud gathered obscuring the battleship for bomb aimers. Easy Elsie made her bombing run and her bombardier PO McLennan released his Tallby at the battleship's assumed position. During the attack, Easy Elsie was severely damaged by flak: the right outer engine was lost, she was losing fuel and hydraulic fluid, and the radio was hit. Further damaged by flak knocking out the left inner engine and losing more fuel, and with bomb doors unable to be raised through loss of hydraulics, the resultant drag made the aircraft difficult to fly.

With 2 engines lost and losing fuel, there was no way the Australian pilot, Flying Officer David Carey could get the Lancaster back to Scotland. He and the navigator Pilot Officer Alex McKie decided to try to get over to neutral Sweden. The rest of the squadron got back safely to Lossimouth and Easy Elsie was reported missing in action. With maximum power on the 2 remaining engines, Carey managed to gain sufficient height to clear the Norwegian mountains and turned the severely damaged Lancaster south into Sweden. Between the cloud, all they could see was empty wilderness and forest, but with fuel almost exhausted they saw a boggy clearing in the forest near to Porjus. The crew jettisoned all weapons, ammunition and equipment to lighten the aircraft and took up crash-landing positions for Carey to put the aircraft down in an open space. The undercarriage cut into bog and the plane shuddered to a halt standing on its nose and falling back into the bog. It was 11-50am. The pilot injured his knee on the instrument panel with the impact of crash-landing, but the rest of the crew was unhurt. They destroyed all maps and operational orders, tried to set fire to the wreckage, and carried Carey into the nearby forest. Swedish soldiers who had seen the Lancaster's crash-landing, found the crew who were taken to Stockholm for interrogation and later repatriated to England in November 1944. Tirpitz was finally sunk in Tromsø Fjord in November 1944 by a further 617 and 9 Squadron Lancaster attack, Operation Catechism.

The aircraft's engines and radio equipment were eventually returned to England, and the surviving wreckage left at the crash site in the marshland near Porjus. The Porjus Archive Committee has built a board-walk for the 2 kms leading from the lane to the spot where Easy Elsie's wreckage remains today out in the remote Lapland bog. Some 10kms along the narrow lane from Porjus, we reached a parking area with a sign pointing into the forest 'Lancaster 2kms'. After 30 minutes' walking out along the board-walk, the forest thinned and in the centre of a boggy clearing we found the aircraft wreckage still at the spot where Easy Elsie had crash-landed almost 70 years ago (Photo 9 - Board-walk to crash-site of RAF Lancaster Easy Elsie). Many of the aircraft's fragments were recognisable: broken pieces of the 2 wings showing flak damage, the rear gun-turret, sections of the Lancaster's distinctive tail-fins, engine cowlings but of course no engines, and a section of fuselage with traces of RAF roundel. The cockpit was destroyed when the crew had attempted to burn the aircraft. The aircraft rested in very wet bog, but the Porjus Archive Committee's board-walk extended around the wreckage enabling us to examine it from all angles. This was a movingly poignant moment for us as we took our photos (Photos 10~13 - Remains of Easy Elsie at crash-landing site), full of admiration at this unbelievably skilful piece of navigation and flying to put the severely damaged Lancaster down in this clearing amid almost continuous forest without the aircraft breaking up on hitting the bog and killing or injuring more of the crew.

Stora Sjöfjallet National Park:  heading north on E45, we turned off onto a tarmaced lane along the northern shore of the huge lake swollen by the Porjus dam for the 80km drive out to the Stora Sjöfjallet National Park already weary after our long day. Apart from an occasional Sámi hut settlement, the road was deserted and hemmed in on both sides by increasingly severe mountains the further we progressed. An hour's drive brought us to the Stora Sjöfjallet Mountain Centre where the greeting at reception was perfunctory verging on brusque and the prices to camp ludicrously expensive. You needed to stay focussed on the grand vista of snow-flecked surrounding mountains to avoid noticing the dreary desolation of the stark open expanse of gravelled parking area that passed for a campsite. It was late by the time we had settled in and cooked supper, wondering why we had driven out here to camp at this unwelcoming, over-priced place. But the glorious vista of surrounding mountain peaks, the highest yet seen in Sweden, answered our question as the sun dipped behind this monumental mountainous backdrop (Photo 14 - Stora Sjöfjallet National Park Campsite); there would be no Midnight Sun tonight.

Waterfall Day at the Porjus Dam:  the following morning we returned to Porjus for the annual spectacle of the dam's sluice gates' opening, and by the time we turned into the drive of the old power station, the Porjus golf course was set out with stalls and children's bouncey castle like a village fete. Just before the scheduled 2-00pm main event, we took up position on the embankment looking directly across the now dry upper gorge towards the dam's enormous sluice gates (Photo 15 - Porjus dam with the sluice-gates closed). An announcement over the PA system and hooter siren sounding at the dam foreshadowed the opening. Suddenly the first small cascade of water began, swelling into a foaming, turbulent torrent gradually filling the bed of the gorge below us (Photo 16 - Sluice-gates just opened, filling gorge below Porjus dam). What a few moments ago had been a semi-dry rocky bed now filled into a surging, pulsing torrent advancing down into the lower gorge (Photo 17 - Porjus dam torrent in full spate). And at 2-15, as suddenly as it had started, the foaming flow at the sluice's downfall began to lessen then ceased, and the volume of falling water quickly reduced as it drained down into the gorge. Within a few minutes, the gorge bed was almost as dry as before the opening, which was almost as impressive as the initial surging fill-up. Before leaving we walked across the golf course past the fete's stalls to take a final look at the sturdily impressive old power station building and the beautiful art nouveau stained glass above the main door.

The Harsprånget dam and dry gorge:  before leaving the Luleälven we returned 10km south to see the the largest of the Luleälven dams, the Harsprånget and its HEP generating station which with a power output of 977MW is Sweden's largest hydro-electric plant (see right). With the demand for electrical power from the lucrative iron ore mining industry, Harsprånget steeply downstream from Porjus was the natural site for the next generation of HEP plants, and construction began in 1919. But the post-WW1 slump in demand for steel production halted progress and work on the new dam was not re-started until 1945. The huge rock-fill dam was completed in 1951 and officially opened by King Gustav VI Adolf. Driving down the road showed the steep gradient that the Lule River must drop in the short distance from the Porjus dam outflow. Rounding a bend, there was the massive curvature of the dam winding across the valley. 1km beyond, we pulled into the car park signposted for the memorial to the 10 men killed during the Harsprånget dam's construction, and the look-out point above the now dry Harsprångetfallen canyon. A sturdy board-walk led down over the smoothly eroded granite slabs past the memorial into the canyon, and a spectacular viewpoint overlooking what once would have been a torrent of waterfalls before the mighty dam further up the valley had left the canyon high and dry (Photo 18 - Harsprånget gorge board-walk).

The environmental impact of hydro-power:  this brought home to us the controversial issue of the impact of supposedly environmentally friendly hydro-electric power. Vattenfall's web site naturally make much of HEP as a totally renewable energy source with minimal environmental impact and zero pollution. Opponents however point out the vast changes that the damming of natural water courses causes and the impact on both flora and fauna: salmon can no longer follow their powerful instinct to migrate upstream to spawn, and part of the cost of hydro-power is the necessary annual fish re-stocking of rivers. The enlargement of lakes caused by damming has damaging impact on reindeer grazing lands and makes reindeer migrating routes more difficult. We had ourselves witnessed the contrast in topographical impact of the now totally controlled Ume River compared with the natural state of the unexploited Vindelälven valley. Of the major rivers of Northern Sweden, only 4 now remain in their natural state unexploited by HEP, the Torne, Kalix, Pite and Vindel Rivers. Here at Harsprånget, we could see the issue in stark terms before our very eyes: before the dam's construction, this would have been a wild torrent flowing down the falls of the narrow canyon and subject to the natural seasonal variations in water flow from the wild spring melt-water floods to the ice-bound white-out of winter; the very name Harsprånget meaning 'hare's run' was derived from the sharp turns in the rapids, similar to a hare fleeing. Now however the gorge was entirely dry, and high above us at the head of the canyon we could see the stark desert-like stone field of the rock-fill dam's embankment. Having said that however, with the canyon now dry and deprived of water by the dam, the stark natural beauty of its varied multi-coloured rock walls were revealed in their full glory (Photo 19 - Harsprånget dry gorge with rock-fill dam at head of valley). Modern society demands ever-increasing supplies of electricity, and compared with the pollutant impact and short-term finiteness of expendable fossil fuels or long-term inheritance of nuclear waste, the impact of hydro-power seemed minimalist. Clearly there is no such thing as a free light switch and the price to pay for hydro-power in terrain where this is feasible seems the least damaging compared with alternative sources of energy. With this thought in mind, we clambered back up the rocks at the look-out point marvelling at the bare rocky spectacle of this magnificent canyon now revealed before us in all its glory thanks to the Harsprånget dam.

The deserted village of Harsprånget:  we drove steeply uphill on the natural slope down which the Lule River flows to reach the turning to the former settlement of Harsprånget, the village built in this wilderness location to house the dam's construction workers and their families. A large community developed here with all you would expect - houses, shops, community facilities, football field - and the village was occupied until 1979, long after the dam's construction, when the last occupants moved away transporting their houses with them on the backs of lorries. We turned in and all that remained of the former Harsprånget village were the street name signs (Photo 20 - Site of the now abandoned village of Harsprånget). We drove along what was once Storgatan, past the sign for the Konsum shop, and stopped at the now weed-infested space that was once the central square. This was an eeriily forlorn place, long bereft of its inhabitants, its memory now preserved by the admirable Porjus Archive Committee.

We resumed our northward journey into Porjus, glancing down at the span of the new Porjus dam with the Inlandsbaanan and former navvies' track running along the near shore of the lake (Photo 21 - Porjus rock-fill dam and power station). But we still had a long drive ahead to reach Gällivare this evening, and left Porjus for the final time after our 2 day memorable stay.

Gällivare Camping:  crossing open forested fell-land, we approached Gällivare passing Dundret Hill and the southern side of the town, and across the river, turned into Gällivare Camping. Here we discovered 2 choices of camping area: a grubby gravelly area crammed with Norwegian mega-buses and their rowdy, materialist occupants, or a boggy riverside area overwhelmed with the noise of passing mine trucks on the nearby main E45 road. On the whole the traffic noise seemed preferable to rowdy Norwegians and we settled in at pitch 51, the only patch of decent turf in the whole campsite, to cook our supper of reindeer and lingonberry stew.

The iron ore mines of Gällivare:  the sun shone all night, although we were too tired to wait up to see the Midnight Sun, and was still shining brightly this morning. Today we had arranged to go on the underground tour of the LKAB deep iron ore mines at Malmberget just to the north of Gällivare. Although it was expensive at 300kr (£30) each, you cannot come this far north without learning something at first hand about the mining and processing of Sweden's major export commodity, iron ore. We waited at Gällivare's main square to be transported uphill to the mine at Malmberget by the LKAB company bus. At the LKAB mining museum the guide gave us an outline of the history of mining at Malmberget, a description of both the mining and processing of iron ore, and the impact of mining subsidence on the township of Malmberget.

LKAB's mining and processing of iron ore at Malmberget:  the iron ore mine at Malmberget (Ore Mountain) is operated by the state-owned mining company, Luossavaara-Kirunvaara Aktiebolag (Limited Company) - LKAB - which was formed in 1890 to exploit the huge iron ore deposits in Lapland around Gällivare and Kiruna. It is now one of Sweden's largest industries and commodity exporters, with LKAB products accounting for 90% of EU iron ore production and world-wide markets, particularly the increasing China market. Late 19th/early 20th century iron ore mining at Malmberget was open cast extracting Haematite, a form of iron oxide, and leaving a gaping chasm around which the township of Malmberget had developed. Since the 1920s, the extraction of ore has been from underground drifts cut ever deeper and deeper. There are a number of ore bodies sloping down at a steep angle into the mountain under the town; at present 10 veins of the ore body are being mined with reserves of mineable ore lasting far into the future. Mining is currently taking place at the 1,200m level making Malmberget one of the world's deepest underground iron ore mines. Most of the ore now mined at Malmberget is in the form of Magnetitie, another variant of iron oxide with lower proportion of oxygen than Haematite; known also as loadstone from its naturally occurring magnetic quality which aids the iron extraction process. The ore is extracted by a process known as sub-level caving with horizontal drifts cut into the steeply downward-sloping ore body. Huge fan-shaped areas are drilled and filled with explosives, blasted overnight collapsing the ore body at that point. The following day, after dust and gases have been cleared, the ore is transported out of the area by both driver-controlled and remote controlled dumpers each handling up to 30 tons of ore, and dropped via vertical chutes into storage cavities in the bed-rock. Huge trucks then convey 90 ton loads to ore-crushers to be ground into 10cm chunks. The crushed ore is then transported on conveyers into 40 ton skips to be hoisted at high speed to the surface.

Ore processing takes place on the surface. The ore is ground into a fine powder for dressing, ie the separation of iron from impurities and waste-rock using a magnetic process which takes advantage of Magnetitie's natural magnetic properties. After being refined into a bonded slurry with increased iron-bearing content, the resultant mix is transformed by a rolling process into 10mm pellets which are then sintered by a 1250º C heat process partly melting the iron ore particles together to harden the pellets for bulk transportation. The processed ore pellets are loaded into bulk hopper railway wagons each carrying 100 tons of of iron ore and trains of 68 such wagons are pulled by the world's most powerful electric locomotives from Gällivare or Kiruna on the Malmbanan railway line to the ports of Narvik or Luleå, depending on the ultimate customer destination, for onward sea transport to steel works.

Malmberget - a town under threat from mining subsidence:  we were then transported in the bus up to the township of Malmberget where we saw at first hand how the ever-deepening mining is progressively causing subsidence and cave-ins, meaning the re-routing of roads but more significantly the necessity for entire section of the town's housing to be moved on the back of trucks downhill away from the mining area towards Gällivare. The church had been moved once in the 1970s and now was to be moved again. The guide pointed out those sections of the town listed for moving where the danger of subsidence was greatest, monitored by 100s of listening devices in the ground. The result was that the whole township of wooden houses had a run-down and depressing air. At the mine's information centre, with the aid of a model showing the ore-bodies sloping into the earth beneath Malmberget, we were told more about the history of Malmberget's haphazard development as a mining township, the impact of subsidence and the necessity for moving sections of the town. The model showed the ever-increasing chasm caused by earlier open-cast working and subsidence from modern deep-mining creeping insidiously into the heart of the town, meaning the progressive moving of threatened homes to safer areas.

The start of mining at Malmberget in 1888 resulted in a Klondike-style 'iron rush' attracting 1000s of miners who could make make twice the money working here than elsewhere in Sweden; a shanty town quickly developed up on the mountain which soon grew into a haphazardly spreading township as employees got the chance to build their own houses on free-hold land around the mine. But as early as 1895, the mining company was already warning that open-cast mining would soon impact on the community. By 1950 it was clear that the ore-body deeply mined for decades extended under the township and parts of the town centre began to be evacuated. In 1974 the church was moved to what was believed to be a safer area but the impact of ever-deeper mining increasingly affected the suburbs with the threat of subsidence. LKAB is now attempting a more planned process of developing new areas of housing further downhill towards Gällivare, but it was clear from those we spoke to later that a body of deep resentment is felt within the community towards the necessity to move, and the increasing degree of dilapidation in houses in the threatened areas which will go on getting worse as the deeper mining progresses. This in spite of the fact that without the mining, there would be no employment and no economic future whatsoever for this one-industry dependent community.

Underground at Malmberget iron ore mine:  with this depressing story fresh in our minds, we were taken in the LKAB bus past the closed subsidence threatened areas around a newly built section of road to the complex of buildings by the mine's entrance to be shown firstly LKAB's promotional video ingenuously making extravagant claims about the alleged eco-friendly production of its 'green iron ore pellets'; it grated to think that we had paid £30 each so far for a bus ride to see derelict housing and watch a commercial propaganda film! But having changed into LKAB-issue overalls, boots and hard-hat, it was back to the bus to be driven into the very inconspicuous mine entrance tunnel which soon steepened to slope downwards at an alarming 10% gradient. The bus wound down and down the steep roadway in the semi-darkness into the mine, pausing occasionally to allow huge mine trucks to pass, and eventually stopping when we finally reached the 1,250m working level. Amid all the noise and mud-slurry of a working mine, we paused to watch one these enormous trucks conveying its 90 ton load from the drilling/cutting drifts to tip this sideways into a chute which dropped the ore down into a gigantic ore-crusher. Back in the bus, we descended a further level to watch the ore-crusher at work: the load of newly extracted ore chunks fell from the chute into the crusher's slowly-turning grinding mill and the noise was like nothing ever before experienced, a sight and sound like something from Dante's Inferno, the air wreaking of ammonia perhaps a residue of explosives and sparks flashing as the ore was crushed in the hopper (Photo 22 - Underground ore-crusher at Malmberget iron ore mine). Amid all this dust, smell and din, it was back to the bus as another of the gigantic trucks thundered past in the gloomy tunnel to be taken past the ore conveyer to see the skip elevator which conveyed 40 ton loads of crushed ore up to the surface for processing. Every few moments, a skip flashed past upwards or downwards at a staggering speed, all mind-numbingly too fast to see. We were now taken to an underground service area where in vast mechanical workshops the bulldozers, drilling-machines and trucks of the mine were serviced. At close quarters in better light, we could now appreciate the gigantic scale of these massive machines (Photo 23 - Colossal mine machinery at LKAB Malmberget iron ore mine).

Although not able to see at first hand the ore cutting and extraction drifts, we had spent an hour being taken around the working tunnels, plodging around in the muddy and noisy working condition and experiencing something of the underground methods of initial ore processing and transportation. We re-boarded the bus for the long steeply upward drive back to the surface. With all the gigantic dumper-trucks and mine vehicles passing at speed along the gloomy, winding tunnels, you had to admire the guide's bravado in taking responsibility for a bus full unruly visitors in a working mine environment with all its hazards. Although expensive, the mine visit had given us the chance to experience at first hand iron ore mining at depths to which we had never before descended; we had learnt much about the ore extraction, processing and transportation methods and its economic significance to Sweden's economy. We had also learnt much about the impact of mining on the local community which over the mine's 100 years of history had grown up around the Malmberget mine. Never again would we take metal for granted.

By the time we were dropped back at the centre of Gällivare, the weather was Arctically cold and wet. In pouring rain, we walked along to the town's railway station just to be able to say we had seen both the top and bottom stations of the Inlandsbanan railway (Photo 24 - Gällivare station, the Inlandsbanan northern terminus); the departures board announced departures southwards from Gällivare at 06-30 and 20-30 each day for the 1,200km journey to Mora where we had been almost 6 weeks earlier. Back at Gällivare Camping, one of the friendly ladies at reception had brought us samples of Magnetite iron ore and LKAB processed ore pellets as souvenirs to remind us of our visit to the Malmberget mine.

North from Gällivare to Kiruna:  the following morning we drove up through Gällivare for the last time, the Malmberget mine and its doomed township visible up on the hillside, and set off northwards on the final stretch of the E45 Inlandsvägen after using this great northern highway for much of the length of Sweden from Lake Vänern in the south. This lonely road now passed through dense, endless spruce forests with occasional lakes. An hour's driving brought us to the modern bridge crossing the broad River Kalix, one of the 4 remaining unexploited rivers of Northern Sweden, which forms the border between the Gällivare and Kiruna Communes at Lappesuanto. Alongside the modern road bridge, the more elegant high-arching 1930s bridge still stood which had originally replaced the former ferry-crossing of this wild river. The road now turned NW passing more Sámi settlements, the forests now thinner with increasing views of distant mountains, to reach the village of Svapavaara where we finally parted company with the Inlandsvägen which swung north towards the Finnish border at Karesuando. We continued ahead on the E10 passing the huge LKAB iron ore mines of Svappavaara with their railway ore-loading sidings. A further 20 minutes' driving brought us to the industrial outskirts of Kiruna. As we turned off into the town, there ahead we could see the enormous waste-rock covered gash of the Kiruna iron ore mine which cuts across the hill of Kirunavaara dominating the town.

Iron ore mining at Kiruna, a city also under threat from subsidence:  Kiruna is iron ore mining, and without it, the town simply would not exist or would still be the tiny Sámi meeting place that it had been for centuries before 1890 when the vast underground ore deposits had been discovered. Kiruna's name is derived from the Sámi word Giron meaning ptarmigan. The Malmbanan railway linking Luleå to Narvik via Gällivare and Kiruna was built in 1888, and serious mining began at Kiruna in the 1890s. In 1900 Hjalmar Lundbohm, LKAB's first managing director founded the town of Kiruna which, unlike Malmberget's haphazard origins, was from the start a planned foundation developed by the LKAB company around the mines and railway. Mining for the Magnetite iron ore was for the first half of the 20th century open cast, cutting deep gashes across Kiruna's 2 hills of Luossovaara (meaning Salmon Hill in Sámi) and Kiirunavaara (meaning Ptarmigan Hill). It was from the names of these 2 hills where the original mines were dug that Luossovaara-Kiirunavaara Aktiebolag (LKAB) got its name. But in 1950, to access the gigantic 4km wide, 80m thick tilted disk of the Magnetite ore body which slopes downward into the earth's crust to unknown depths beneath Kiruna's city centre, underground mining began with the current main working level at a depth of 1,365m. Using the sub-level caving method of extracting the ore from drifts cut into the ore body, the area below the gash of the original open-cast working is progressively collapsing or fracturing with the fissure zone advancing towards the city centre. As at Malmberget, Kiruna's present city location is therefore under threat; LKAB and Kiruna local community are now developing a planned programme to relocate the entire central zone of the town and its infrastructure. The LKAB company seems to have learnt the lesson about managing the relocation project since, unlike Malmberget where community resentment is still palpable, here at Kiruna people generally have accepted the inevitability of moving both homes and community infrastructure; as we were told, local people at Kiruna are asking not why the move has to take place but how, when and where? The first phase of the move was completed in 2012 when the Malmbanan railway line through Kiruna was relocated from the threatened area to a new route looping westwards around the back of Kirunavaara Hill. Passenger trains from Narvik or Luleå have now to reverse into the old railway station which will be replaced by a temporary new station in autumn 2013, and a permanent new station will be built when the siting of the relocated city centre has been decided after the consultation currently taking place. Next year the E10 will be rerouted east of the present town.

Our visit to Kiruna:  we parked by Kiruna's central square and found that LKAB had a consultation/information display in the Folkets Hus (Community Hall) with a scale model showing clearly the impact of the mining which created the need for the city centre's relocation (Photo 25 - Model showing mining subsidence impact on Kiruna city centre). We spent the next half hour quizzing the LKAB staff about both mine working, impact of subsidence and programme and options for urban relocation. With the aid of the model, the girl patiently took us through all of this, answering our many questions and providing us with copies of LKAB's detailed consultation documents in English. The strange thing was that we seemed to be taking more interest in Kiruna's problems than local people! We had been advised that the best viewpoint from which to look across at the iron ore mines which dominated Kiruna was from the high hill of Luossovaara. Along a neglected back road north-west of the town, we approached the hill which still bore the gash across its face of the earlier open-cast mining activity. Hesitantly we tackled the rough dirt road which wound around the hillside almost to the summit from where we could look down over the telling panorama of the township of Kiruna spread out below us (Photo 26 - LKAB iron ore mine dominating the township of Kiruna), the railway sidings full of hopper-wagons curving round towards the mine whose devastation was creeping ever closer towards the town. From this vantage point, the danger zone of subsidence below the ugly gash of the former open-cast workings which hovered over the town like a brooding Sword of Damocles was clearly visible, the modern mine workings now over 1km below the surface spreading the subsidence cracks insidiously towards the town centre (Photo 27 - Kiruna iron ore mine and ore-loading sidings).

Our next visit was to the town hall (stadhuset) where we hoped to gain more information about plans for the town's relocation. This featureless, block-square building with its metallic lattice clock-tower had inexplicably won an award in 1964 as Sweden's most elegant public building (Photo 28 - Kiruna City Hall to be relocated due to mining subsidence). The vast open space of the town hall's interior opened up before us lit by high windows; the displays around the hall told us little more, other than a telling reproduction of the original brief letter from LKAB's managing director to the city council announcing 'we are going to deepen our mine so you had better move your town' or Swedish words to that effect! To get information about the relocation of railway line and the new station, we tried the old railway station but came away little the wiser. Even the access road around to the LKAB mine complex had recently been rerouted since the old road had cracked with subsidence, but we followed this past the lines of hopper-wagons queuing in the sidings for re-filling with processed ore pellets from the automated filling chutes for onward transportation to the port of Narvik. Around at the mine complex's entrance, security barriers prevented further progress, so we gained little more there. Back into the town, we drove up Gruv-gatan (Mine Street - what else!) to find Kiruna's original wooden church built in 1912 by LKAB and shaped like a huge Sámi hut only magnified 100-fold so that the interior with all its beams was the size of an aircraft hangar. A teenagers' confirmation service with a congregation of proud mums and dads was just coming to an end and we waited for the chance to take our photos (Photo 29 - Kiruna wooden church). This magnificent structure was another victim of the mining subsidence and was due to be relocated plank by plank.

Kiruna's Ripan Camping, better re-styled as Rip-off Camping:  we planned to camp overnight at Kiruna's one and only campsite, Ripan Camping set on the hilltop above the town amid a maze of residential streets. The glitzy marble-topped reception counter should have alerted us to its monopolistic, over-priced 280kr/night charges. The heaped irony of our congratulations at being the most expensive campsite in Northern Sweden was lost on the girl at reception; her feeble attempt to justify this excessive over-charging because of being able to see the Midnight Sun was countered with the repost of not expecting to have to pay for that. Again there were 2 choices of camping area: a large area crammed full of rowdy Norwegians in their ludicrous mega-buses, or a more secluded, peaceful corner, the price for which was a 600m trek to the one and only facilities block. You needed map and compass to find the facilities, and when you eventually got there, neither the card-keys nor hand-driers worked; nor did the alleged site-wide wi-fi internet. Try as you would, there was absolutely nothing good to be said about Kiruna's one and only campsite, which with its indefensively extortionate prices and poor standards we renamed from Ripan Camping to Rip-off Camping.

A visit to the Swedish Sámi Parliament, the Sámediggi:  having last year visited the Finnish Sámi Parliament at Inari and the Norwegian Sámi Parliament at Karasjok, we had telephoned the Swedish equivalent institution in Kiruna to arrange a visit. We drove down to the Sámediggi's grandiose building just off Adolf Hedinsvägen, (Photo 30 - Swedish Sámi Parliament Building (Sámediggi) at Kiruna) also under threat of mining subsidence although no date or alternative location was known, and were welcomed at reception by the young lady who had arranged our visit. Despite her unduly modest claims to being unsure, as a relatively junior civil servant as to how much she could contribute to our understanding, we were in fact rewarded with over an hour's comprehensive discussion about the history, role, constitutional status and powers of the Swedish Sámi Parliament, the major issues facing it and its comparative standing with the Swedish State Parliament in Stockholm.

The Sámediggi (Sámetinget in Swedish) was established in 1993 as supposedly the representative body for people of Sámi heritage in Sweden and an institution of cultural autonomy for the indigenous Sámi. There are 31 members elected for a 4 year term who meet in full forum 3 times a year in different centres across Swedish Sápmi from Kiruna, Jokkmokk, Arvidsjaur, Arjeplog to Östersund. Sámi inhabitants can register to vote if they consider themselves culturally or ethnically Sámi, speak the Sámi language or their parents/grandparents spoke Sámi. Many Sámi however feel the Sámediggi is a toothless tiger, being an agency of the State Government's Ministry of Agriculture, largely window dressing by the Swedish State with little or no real power directly to influence Sámi affairs or resist encroachment by powerful interests in areas affecting the Sámi. Although under the constitution the State Government is obliged to consult the Sámediggi on matters affecting the Sámi, the real issue of contention remains the continued encroachment by the powerful mining lobby into areas traditionally associated with reindeer herding, just as previously it was Vattenfall's building of further hydro-electric dams on the major rivers which eroded reindeer grazing lands and migration routes. We spent our time with the young Sámi civil servant who candidly gave us views, speaking in fluent English. We had assumed there would be a parliamentary chamber in Kiruna as at Inari and Karasjok, but the Sámi Parliament was itself nomadic like the people it represented, meeting in different centres around Sápmi, and this building was just their administrative centre. See the web site of the Swedish Sámi Parliament

Leaving Kiruna to its unknown future:  after a provisions stock-up at the ICA modern supermarket, built on reclaimed mining land hopefully out of the subsidence danger zone, we finally left Kiruna after our 2 day stay during which we had come to like and admire this one-industry town. The modern centre with its apartment blocks had no marked attractiveness but along the side streets there were a number of the original wooden houses of the earlier town founded by LKAB and still dominated by the mine with LKAB vehicles to be seen everywhere. Kiruna had a likeable down-to-earth feel about it (almost literally given the constant threat of mining subsidence!) and we were sorry to be leaving. There was clearly an acceptance about the inevitability of upping sticks and moving, and plenty of discussion, presentations and consultation about options for relocation; but despite the threat of subsidence, there seemed little sense of urgency and strangely little decision-taking or action other than the enormous task of re-routing 18kms of railway line. Perhaps the wheels of local bureaucracy grind even more slowly up here in the far north when faced with the monumental problem of moving an entire town centre. And in the meantime LKAB go on happily digging deeper into the ore body below the town, lining the state coffers with the proceeds. As we drove from the town out along the E10, how many years would it be, we wondered, before the new Kiruna emerges or the old town finally falls into the mine pit?

Northwards to the Abisko National Park:  the afternoon sun was bright as we headed NW across the wild fell-scape towards the Norwegian border with the west-bound Malmbanan railway running parallel. An empty ore wagon train hauled by a pair of LKAB's powerful electric locos passed by returning empty from Narvik for a re-fill of iron ore pellets at Kiruna. Both the road and railway crossed several fast-running white-water rivers, and the mountain sky-line ahead grew more and more impressive as we approached the huge 70km long Lake Torneträsk. As we rounded huge mountains to pass along the lake shore, the sky clouded over ominously and a chill Arctic brisk wind blew from the NW buffeting our camper and raising white-horse crested waves across the grey waters of the lake. The road was more narrow now with frequent heavy trucks travelling from Norway. After a tiring drive, we reached the Absiko Mountain Centre and pulled in to get maps and information about walks in the National Park at this northern end of the Kungsleden long-distance trek.

Continuing along the lake-shore of Torneträsk, the road passed under a shoulder of Njulla, a dark and foreboding 1,164m high round-topped mountain; this 2km stretch was signed with warning alerts as an avalanche zone. We hurried past and shortly reached the turning steeply uphill to Bjöklidens Camping, the only remaining campsite option close to the Absiko National Park; this monopolistic position and its attachment to a ski hotel boded ill. Check-in for the huge, unsheltered camping area was a further 2kms uphill at the hotel reception, and again there was little good that could be said about the place other than the magnificent view from the terrace of the twin peaks of Lapporten (Lappish Gate)  (Photo 31 - Lapporten, the iconic twin peaks of Abisko National Park). We faced perfunctory curtness from the offensively rude woman at reception who clearly had overlooked the fact that it was guests who paid her wages and on whom her employment depended. She was too preoccupied with enforcing the rules; no we couldn't each have a card-key for the showers since we might steal one - yes she actually said that! The WC/showers were dingy with non-working light bulbs and no shower curtains, the kitchen/wash-up basic and grubby; at 240kr/night it was inhospitably poor value, but of course there was no alternative. We shiveringly settled into the bleak camping area and a warming supper of Swedish meatballs in a creamy lingonberry sauce cheered us up with the camper's heater on full against the bitterly cold Arctic wind.

A floral walk the Abisko National Park:  the following morning, we drove back eastwards for 8kms to the Abisko Mountain Centre and kitted up for today's walk in the Abisko National Park on the first section of the Kungsleden trail along the Abiskojåkk river and looping back over a nature trail past Lake Njakajaure. Family groups with full packs were just starting out on the 450km long-distance trail, and we followed through the ceremonial gate marking the start of the Kungsleden feeling rather conspicuous with just our day-sacs (Photo 32 -Northern start of the Kungsleden 450km long-distance trail). The well-used path passed through open birch woodland badly affected by the leaf-stripping Autumnal Moth and the river bank was lined with a wealth of wild flora including beautiful clumps of Arctic Grass of Parnassus and tiny Twin Flowers. We found the perfect spot for lunch sitting on the polished marble-like slabs of shale where the rushing river had carved out a narrow channel through the outcrop to form rapids (Photo 33 - Shale slabs by Abiskojåkk river rapids at Abisko National Park). Gloomy low cloud hovered over the tops of the surrounding high mountains. Looking back, we could see the Malmbanan railway line crossing the river; a distant whistle indicated a train approaching, and sure enough an LKAB iron ore train hauled by one of the huge twin IORE electric locos trundled past across the bridge. We continued along the Kungsleden, our progress slowed by frequent stops to photograph the wild flora. 3kms along the river bank, the path reached a high point looking down over the curving river which rounded a high cliff of creamy white dolomite against a backdrop of cloud-covered mountains. The path rose to the top of the cliff where we said farewell to the Kungsleden which descended steeply on the southern side to continue its 450km length across the highest and wildest of Sweden's mountains to Hemavan where we had seen its southern end. We branched off for our northward return path on the Njakajaure nature trail. Alongside the board-walks which crossed the wetter bogland insectivorous Butterworts flourished together with creeping stems of Arctic Bearberry, their fruits ripening to a dark red colour but still quite sharp in taste. Beyond this an area of drier limestone mountain-heathland was dotted with gardens of sweet-scented Fragrant Orchids and Creeping Lady's Tresses Orchids. There were also lovely patches of Yellow Mountain Saxifrage and of Lapland Rhododendron its bright red flowers still in tight bud. As we crossed a further patch of bogland, the surrounding sphagnum moss was dotted with a broad area of almost ripe Clouberry fruits. The bog was quite dry enabling us to venture out from the board-walk to photograph the ripening fruits, some now almost orange and sweetly tasting. Never before had we seen a bog surface covered with such a profusion of Cloudberries (Photo 34 - Cloudberry fruits growing on an Abisko sphagnum bog). This glorious sight was the afternoon's highlight.

The Malmbanan/Ofotbanen railway line:  returning to the walk's start point, we explored the Rollarstigen, the former roadway constructed by navvies to supply building materials for the Kiruna~Narvik section of the Malmbanan railway line. It now serves as a long-distance footpath between Abisko Östra and Rombaksbotn in Norway. LKAB's predecessor company began mining for iron ore at Malmberget in 1884 and 4 years later work started on the first part of the Malmbanan to transport ore down to Luleå at the head of the Bothnian Gulf. But the English company constructing the line went bankrupt and the Swedish government bought the line at a knock-down bargain price. Work began  in 1898 on the second half of the Malmbanan/Ofotbanen (see map right) linking Gällivare via Kiruna to the ice-free port of Narvik on the Norwegian NW coast. This was a monumental work of construction across high Arctic mountains, with work going on all through the winter in appalling conditions. Rails were advanced along the completed sections of line and materials brought by boat or horse-drawn carts from Kiruna or Rombaksbotn, with several ports along Lake Torneträsk including one at Abisko. In 1901 some 5,000 people were working along the length of the new line with encampments at various points. At Abisko, to avoid the need to construct a bridge for the line to cross the AbRel was blasted through and the course of the river torrent diverted. A dam and power plant were built to harness the river's flow to generate electricity to drive power drills. At Nuolja work began in 1900 to drive an 875m long tunnel through the shoulder of the mountain, then Sweden's longest tunnel. We walked along part of the Navvies' Track, crossing the outflow of the river tunnel where the torrent roared down into the deep shale canyon flowing down towards Lake Torneträsk.

To Riksgränsen on the Norwegian border:  after a final and bitterly cold night at Bjöklidens Camping with misty cloud down to ground level, we continued westwards on the E10 for the final phase of our journey up through Sweden towards Riksgränsen and the Norwegian border. It was a miserably cheerless morning with low cloud still totally obscuring the surrounding fells and the air filled with misty drizzle. In such dreary Arctic conditions, we gained height gradually with the railway line running parallel protected by snow fencing and avalanche sheds. It must have been an unbelievable ordeal for those workers who constructed the line across these inhospitable mountains, with death from disease and exposure more frequent than from industrial accidents. As we approached the road's high point at Vassijaure, ahead in the misty drizzle we could see the tall and imposing tower of the brick-built railway station which doubled as a transformer substation when the Malmbanan was electrified in 1915 with power brought by high-voltage cables the 250kms from Porjus hydro-power plant. Transformers in the station towers at Abisko and Vassijaure dropped the line voltage down to working levels for the railway and the advent from steam locomotives to electric traction tripled the Malmbanan's ore transportation capacity. As we approached Vassijaure, Sweden's northernmost station, we could see one of the LKAB double electric IORE locomotives with a train of empty ore hopper wagons waiting in the passing-loop for a down train to come through (Photo 35 - LKAB iron ore train from Narvik at Vassijaure on Malmbanan line). Another LKAB train of loaded hopper wagons emerged from the snow-sheds and roared past; the up train switched on its headlight and slowly moved forward picking up speed with remarkable acceleration. Having watched the ore trains passing to and from Kiruna and Narvik, we resumed our journey westwards towards the empty, ghostly ski resort of Riksgränsen on the Swedish side of the border to reach the open border-crossing into Norway (Photo 36 - Swedish~Norwegian border at Riksgränsen in gloomy weather). Beyond the border, leaving behind the high fell-land plateau of Northern Sweden, the topography changed immediately with a steep descent into severely mountainous terrain, but that's a story for the next episode.

Next week we shall cross into Northern Norway to visit the port of Narvik to see the final stage of the LKAB iron ore's journey from the deep mines of Gällivare and Kiruna to the waiting bulk carrier ships at Narvik's ore terminal. We shall then continue northwards to visit the northern city of Tromsø, before crossing the fjords for a return to Skibotn, a brief stay at Kilpisjärvi in NW Finland close to the Three Borders meeting point (Treriksröset) of Sweden, Finland and Norway, and re-entry into Northern Sweden at Karesuando. Much fascinating journeying still to come, so join us again shortly.

Next edition to be published quite soon

Sheila and Paul

Published:  7 November 2013

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