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*** SWEDEN 2013 - WEEKS 7~8 *** |
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This week's
Photo Gallery |
Wild Flora of North-West Sweden |
Wild Orchids of North-West Sweden |
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After a happy if wet stay at Hammardal, we resumed our northward journey into Strömsund, a soulless town set on an isthmus between Lakes Ösjön and Russfjärden and service centre for the vast forested hinterland. Having topped up our provisions, we moved on NW along Route 342, the start of the so-called Vildmarksvägen (Wilderness Road) and almost immediately on leaving the town we were driving through endless swathes of deserted coniferous forest.
The Vildmarksvägen to Gäddede: the road was good and we made fast progress and
reaching the village of Alanäs on the shores of Lake Flåsjön, we paused to
examine the remains of one of Sweden's rare WW2 sites. This has been the only
European country we have visited without seeing even one 20th century war
memorial. Asserting its neutrality, Sweden's re-armament during the 1930s had
been negligible despite Hitler's increasingly aggressive posturing. But with the
German invasion and occupation of Norway in April 1940, the threat to neutral
Sweden suddenly became real. To counter the threat, armed defensive positions
were hastily constructed at vulnerable
Gäddede Camping: we drove on westwards through this remote and lonely countryside, passing only the occasional settlement, with little to see but the endless forest presenting a grey-green monotone on a dull afternoon. This was the domain only of elks and brown bears, and we saw none of these either. Beyond Bågede, the deserted road through the gloomy forest became more narrow and the terrain increasingly mountainous, finally bringing us into Gäddede, a large but isolated village almost at the Norwegian border. Along the main street we booked in at the lakeside Gäddede Camping, getting the assurance that the ongoing Wilderness Road over the high, wildly beautiful Stekenjokk Plateau was now free of snow and asphalted all the way back around to Vilhelmina. We found a quiet pitch overlooking Lake Kvambergsvattnet and that evening as the sun dipped we were treated to a spectacularly flaring sunset across the lake (Photo 2 - Sunset across Lake Kvambergsvattnet at Gäddede Camping).
Fatmomakke traditional Sámi church-town: the road curved around
beginning an immediate descent from the plateau watershed, dropping down below
the tree-line with bare fell giving way to scrub then finally increasing sized
birches filling the valley sides. We lost height quickly into the forested
middle valley passing through the scattered village of Klimpfjäll, and reached
the side-turning sign-posted for Fatmomakke some 8kms over a gravelled road. At
the lane's end where a footbridge led across the river to the Sámi church-town,
we found a café-kiosk and a very basic riverside camping for an overnight stay
(Photo 13 - Riverside camping at Fatmomakke).
The midges here by the fast-flowing river were the worst experienced so far this summer; it
took 10 minutes after we had pitched to clear the camper's interior of the
little beasts which had swarmed in the moment we opened doors, and the Bagon
All of the tourist publicity spoke of Fatmomakke being a 'living church-town' unlike others in Northern Sweden, with descendents of both Sámi and Swedish settlers gathering here for Midsummer church festivals. We wondered however how contrived all this in fact was: after a night on the birch twig floor of a cramped kåta hut, did all these folk return home on Sunday evening in their Volvos and Mercedes to resume their comfortable lives in centrally heated city apartments as ordinary working accountants and solicitors. We also speculated that perhaps the relationship between Sámi and settlers had also not been as peaceable as suggested: the Sámi herders would surely have resented the unwelcome intrusion of strangers clearing their forests to create pastureland and doubtless shooting the occasional reindeer to supplement their fragile pioneer existence in these remote wild frontier northern wilderness lands (cf the fraught relationship between early American settlers colonising the West and native Red Indians). Perhaps not quite the living history that tourist publicity implied, Fatmomakke had certainly been an intriguing glimpse into Northern Sweden's past, and we returned across the footbridge to resume our journey.
Having arrived here in Storuman, our problem now
was how to pass the 2½ hour wait for the southbound return train in this sleepy
little 1-street, 1-horse town, made even sleepier with almost everything closed
on the Midsummer holiday. The town's one noteworthy feature, the impressive 1924
wood-built former station hotel now functioning as the town library was of
course closed so
A wild flora walk in the Tärnaby fells: despite uncertain weather
prospects, we selected one of the fell walks from the Tärnaby
walking guide, the so-called floral mountain of Gieravardo leading to the 800m
high high-point of Skorvfjället; the underlying limestone bed-rock here produces
a profusion of wild flora including orchids which gives the fell its name of
Blomsterfjället. The walk started partway between Tärnaby and Hemavan, and
scarcely had we left the road when we found the first
The Blå Vägen down the Umeälven valley and
north to Sorsele: but time was pressing and we had a long drive ahead of us.
On a bright, sunny morning, the Blå Vägen lived up to its name as we followed
the series of elongated lakes linked by the Umeälven river system, now highly
exploited f Sorsele seemed a pleasant little town, a quiet one-street place along the banks of the Vindelälven river, one of only 4 unexploited rivers in Sweden thanks to the efforts of campaigning environmentalists during the 1970s who forced the Swedish government to abandon plans for an HEP dam and power station here. We were welcomed hospitably by the owner at Sorsele Camping; this first class campsite was very reasonably priced at 210kr/night all-in, beautifully located on the tree-lined banks of the Vindelälven river, with excellent facilities, well-equipped kitchen with piping hot water, cosy common room, and site-wide free wi-fi. Sorsele Camping's high standards and the owner's welcoming hospitality towards his guests set a example which many other complacent Swedish campsites could do well to follow, and we spent a relaxing day in camp here catching up with jobs.
Walk to mountain farmstead of Örnbo:
the next day, with the forecast of rain in the
days to come, we decided to take one of the
local fell-walks up to the abandoned mountain farm-stead of Örnbo. It was an 11km round-trip from where we were camped
and we set off wearing midge-helmets and full anti-midge protection. From the
end of the lane at Norra Ammarnäs, a pathway
On a drizzly morning in humid, midgy and miserable weather, we said our farewells to Mr and Mrs Bergland, grateful for their hospitality, and before leaving the village, we found the memorial by the church to Nils Johansson, Ammarnäs' founding settler (Photo 30 - Memorial to Ammarnäs' founding settler) and bought some reindeer meat from the little shop at the filling station. Crossing the river, we began the return drive down the valley to Sorsele with misty rain filling the air and low cloud clinging sullenly to the surrounding fells. We were welcomed back to Sorsele Camping like returning old friends and settled in for the rest of the day to catch up with jobs taking full advantage of the campsite's good value washing/drying machines and free site-wide wi-fi.
North to Arvidsjaur and Lappstaden church-town: leaving Sorsele, we rejoined the E45 Inlandsvägen
with the Inlandsbanan railway running alongside
to resume our ever northward journey towards Arvidsjaur. This was wild, vast and
empty terrain, just spruce forest as far as the eye could see broken only by the
occasional lake. The countryside became hillier and clearly in winter this would
be a hellish stretch of road with signs warning of the necessity for
snow-chains. It was along here just after crossing the Skellefteälven river
that we saw the first of this year's reindeer ambling along the road; Arvidsjaur
is the territory of the Forest Sámi. Unlike the nomadic Mountain Sámi
Returning downhill into Arjeplog with the weather
brightening, we followed Beatrice's directions to find another of her
recommendations, the board-walk nature-trail of Vaukaströmmen which crossed the
lakes just south of the town. With the sun now shining brightly, we enjoyed an
hour's walking around the network of board-walks where waters flowed between a
series of lakes and islands (Photo 34 - Rippling waters of Vaukaströmmen near Arjeplog). Over the next couple of weeks, we shall be continuing north from Arvidsjaur towards Jokkmokk where we cross the line of the Polar Circle, although this year we shall be spending a shorter time within the Arctic than last year in more northerly Finland. In the far north of Swedish Lapland, we shall visit the Muddus National Park, and plan to learn more about Sweden's exploitation of its major river systems such as the Umeälven and Luleälven for production of hydro-generated electricity and the impact of this on wild life and the problems caused for traditional Sámi reindeer-herding husbandry. We also intend to visit the major iron ore mining areas around Gällivare and Kiruna and learn more about the necessity for wholesale move of these townships caused by mining subsidence. We shall conclude the next episode of our travels on the far northern Swedish border with Norway at the Abisko National Park. Lots more exciting ventures to come, so join us again shortly. Next edition to be published quite soon
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CAMPING
IN SWEDEN 2013 - Hällingsåfallet canyon and waterfall, Gäddede and the
Wilderness Road into Swedish Lapland, Fatmomakke Sámi church town, a ride on the
Inlandsbanan railway, mountain walking at Tärnaby and Ammarnäs, and the remote
town of Arjeplog:
points along potential German invasion
routes from occupied Norway including what was little more than a road block
here at Alanäs. We clambered up the steep forested hillside peering into the
remains of concrete bunkers and gun-emplacements, but it was clear that if
Swedish security had depended on this flimsy attempt at resistance against the
might of German armour and aircraft, then Sweden would also have been swiftly
overrun (see left). We speculated as to why the Germans chose to respect Swedish neutrality
and buy their iron ore and steel rather than walk in virtually unopposed and
help themselves. In 1940 USSR then allied with Hitler had already invaded
Finland and looked likely to threaten Sweden from the east. Perhaps Scandinavia
was always a side-show and Hitler's eyes were on his long-term greater prize,
the invasion of USSR itself which followed in 1941. In any case, there were Nazi
sympathisers galore in Swedish government and business circles ready to support
the German cause. Whatever the truth, here we
stood at the site of a fascinating curiosity, an almost amateurish Dad's Army
defensive position on a forested hillside, futile had it been put to the test (Photo 1 - WW2 defensive position to counter German invasion threat).
Hällingsåfallet waterfalls and canyon:
the following day dawned bright, looking promising for a visit to the
spectacular canyon and waterfalls of Hällingsåfallet,
with sunny conditions to produce the legendary rainbow effects in the fall's
spray. Access to the waterfall involved a 15km drive along an unsurfaced lane to
the south of Gäddede (Photo
3 - Unsurfaced dirt road to Hällingsåfallet waterfalls) from a turning off the road leading to the Norwegian
Riksgrensen (state border). The dirt road surface was smooth and dust-free and
we made reasonable progress, passing remote farmsteads to reach the side-turning
which gained height alongside the fast-flowing river descending the 800m long
canyon below the falls. 3kms further along, the dirt lane ended at a parking
area where an information panel gave details of the topography of the falls and
canyon. After 250m the approach path dropped down to a viewing platform looking
across to where the mighty cascade surged from a cleft part-way down the
cliff-face opposite to drop in a mass of spray 43m into a massive rocky basin
eroded below, with the lower river turning through 90° into the on-going
canyon whose precipitous cliff-side walls were some 60m high. The 800m long
canyon, the longest in Northern Europe, originally a fissure in the bed-rock had
been enlarged by water erosion over the last 10,000 years since the last Ice
Age
to create the titanic spectacle seen today. We stood at the viewing
platform gazing in wonder at the falls cascading from the rock-face opposite
with clouds of spray filling the air above the basin. The English language
simply contains insufficient superlatives adequately to describe this miracle of
nature. We followed the path around the upper rim to its apex above
the basin, the classic viewpoint looking down the 800m length of the canyon
through the pine trees, with the falls entering at stage-right surging out from
the upper cliff-face (Photo 4 - Hällingsåfallet waterfalls and 800m long canyon). But cloud was now gathering
blotting out
the sun's brightness and the rainbow which a moment ago had arched across the
gorge in the spray of the falls. Waiting for the sun to re-appear, we followed
the path around to the footbridge which crossed the upper Hällingsån river just
on the brink of the falls. It almost seemed that the fast-flowing river, rushing
through the forest and suddenly with the shock of the precipice it now faced,
seemed to hesitate on the brink before the foaming waters plunged headlong into
the abyss in showers of surging spray. From this vantage point, it was a
mesmerising, terrifying spectacle. The brisk wind cleared the cloud and the
angle of the sun not only brought back the breathtaking double rainbow effect
above the basin (Photo 5 - Double rainbow over Hällingsåfallet waterfalls) but illuminated the full length and depth of the mighty-walled
canyon (Photo 6 - Hällingsåfallet canyon). We continued taking photos until the sun disappeared again behind cloud.
Ankarede Sámi traditional gathering place: leaving Gäddede
the following morning, we turned north to begin the second half of the Vildmarksvägen
which crosses the spectacular high tundra of the Stekenjokk Plateau into Swedish
Lapland. The overall impression of the terrain was an endless green sea of
spruces, virgin forest covering the hills as far as the eye could see with not a
human habitation in sight. Part-way along the length of Lake Stor Jorm, we paused to
watch an eagle soaring in lazy circles (Photo7 - Golden Eagle soaring
over Lake Stor Jorm), and to photograph the wild orchids and
insectivorous Butterwort growing in profusion at the roadside
(Photo 8 - Early Marsh Orchid - Dactylorhiza incarnata). The road climbed
steeply over a shoulder of land and dropped down into the Stor-Blåsjön valley.
Around the lake at Stor-Blåsjön village, a side lane branched off to the Sámi
traditional meeting and burial place of Ankarede. For centuries, nomadic Sámi
reindeer herders from the surrounding mountain grazing lands
had gathered here at this spit of land, the meeting-point of 2 rivers and 3 lakes, for festivals such as
Midsummer. At the end of the lane, we parked and walked around to the collection
of kåtor (Sámi conical huts) clustered around the church. A few people were already
here, preparing the huts in readiness for the coming weekend's Midsummer
celebrations. The white-painted wooden church built in 1895 stood in the middle
of the birch grove surrounded by church-huts and kåtor
birch-pole wigwam-shaped conical huts (see left) used as temporary accommodation for those
attending the gathering
(Photo 9 - Sámi kåtor birch-pole huts at Ankarede ). It seemed quite incongruous to see modern cars parked
outside a couple of the huts. 
The Vildmarksvägen over Stekenjokk Plateau
into Swedish Lapland: beyond Stor-Blåsjön, the road northwards gained
height steeply over a ridge, dropping down to Lake Ankarvattnet where the main
river dropped down white-water rapids from the high northern fells with a
fiercesomely cold wind chilled by the snows still covering the Norwegian mountains blowing along the river. From here the road began the long and
increasingly steep ascent onto the Stekenjokk fell-land plateau, the sides of
the road taped-off to protect
ground-nesting birds. Beyond this point, signs warned that the stretch of road
between Leipikvattnet over the plateau down to Klimpfjäll was closed over the
winter period 15 October to 6 June; normally the road was cleared of snow for
the summer opening, but we had been told that 2012~13 had been an uncommonly
mild winter. Close to the tree line, spruce gave way to thinner birch scrub, and
finally treeless bare open tundra. As we gained further height in long sweeping
curves, rounded topped snow-flecked
mountains loomed above
us. The gloomy cloud
gradually began to break so that by the time we rounded the final curve onto
more open fell-top, a clear sun lit what would otherwise have been a dreary
featureless and desolate expanse of mottled green and brown stony tundra. Ahead
of us, a small herd of reindeer grazed the open fellside (see left), and we edged forward
to photograph what were the first reindeer seen this year (Photo 10 - Reindeer grazing on Stekenjokk Plateau fells).
We rounded the final height onto the flat plateau-top with the full sun now
brightening the wild staggeringly beautiful vista of tundra rimmed by a
horizon-line of snow-covered peaks. We paused for a photo by the Vildmarksvägen
sign at the plateau's highest point, 876m above sea level just at the crossing point
into Swedish Lapland where residual snow still stood by the roadside (see right). We paused
at the watershed to photograph the magnificent backdrop of snow-covered peaks
(see right) forming the Norwegian border to the west (Photo 11 - Snow-covered peaks across Stekenjokk Plateau).
The huge flat water-gathering area formed a wide, shallow lake which drained
south as the Gavostjokke river down to Lakes Leipikvattnet, Ankarvattnet and
Stor-Blåsjön, and NE past Klimpfjäll and the chain of lakes down to Vilhelmina,
the valley we should follow by the Vildmarksvägen's northerly route (Photo 12 - Bleak tundra watershed of Stekenjokk Plateau).
diffuser finished off the rest while we cooked supper after a thrilling day's
journey (see left). Fatmomakke, set at the confluence of the 2 rivers draining the high
fells of Marsfjället, had like Ankarede long been a traditional meeting place
for the nomadic Sámi who migrated with the reindeer herds between the high
fell-land pastures in summer and the forests on the lower slopes in winter. In
the 18th century, conversion to Christianity enforced by zealous mission work
brought the legal duty for the Sámi regularly to attend church, very
inconvenient if you're a nomadic herdsman. At the same time, the Swedish State
made systematic efforts to colonise the wild northern lands bringing Swedish
settlers to clear farming lands in remote forest areas that had once been the
preserve of the Sámi. Churches were built where both Sámi and settlers met for
compulsory church attendance. One such church was built at the traditional Sámi
seasonal meeting place of Fatmomakke (see right). With the need to travel large distances
from grazing grounds for compulsory church attendance, the Sámi built kåtor huts
in the area around the Fatmomakke church for overnight stay for church services.
With increased State-sponsored colonisation of the area, Swedish settlers also
began to built lodging huts here from the 1820s. The present church was built
in 1884 and there are now some 80 Sámi kåtor and 20 settlers' huts at Fatmomakke,
still used for the traditional gatherings with descendents of both Sámi and
Swedish settlers meeting there for church festivals at Midsummer and September.
These timings had originally coincided with the summer and autumn migrations
when the Sámi reindeer herders had moved from summer mountain grazing grounds to
lower forest grazing in winter.
Before leaving the following morning, we walked
across the footbridge and along the lakeside path to explore Fatmomakke. The
church stood up on the hillside and with the sun lighting the birch woods and
clear sky giving the lake a vivid blue sheen against a backdrop of snow-covered
mountains, it was a beautiful scene on a peaceful mid-June morning (see left). Turf-roofed
wooden huts originally built by Swedish settlers stood on the lower hill slopes
by the lakeside, while higher up the hillside we could see the conical outlines
of Sámi kåtor among the birch groves (Photo 14 - Kåtor huts at Fatmomakke
Sámi church-town). The settlement was almost deserted but a
funeral service was taking place at the church. According to the service sheet,
the deceased had died back in
February, so perhaps internments still had to
wait until summer because of frozen ground and deep snow. We followed the stone-slabbed
paths over the hillside to explore the collection of kåtor huts; most were
locked but one close to the church was open for viewing as a 'show house' (vistning
kåta) whose lid-like flap-door we lifted to peer inside and examine its
structure. Two A-frames of birch timber with supporting cross members provided a
framework and the conical shape was created by hand-hewn birch planks attached
to the frame and lined with strips of birch bark (see right). Birch poles were attached on
the outside sloping upwards to hold down the bark lining giving the kåta its
wigwam-like appearance. Inside, a top hole admitted light and let out smoke from
the central open fire, and a layer of birch twigs formed the floor of the
living/sleeping space. Despite appearances, the structure had a snug and
draft-proof feel even if rather claustrophobic and a plastic bucket stood
conveniently at one side by the door!
The northern Vildmarksvägen around to
Vilhelmia and Doro Camping at Dorotea: the Wilderness Road's northern
arm, Route 345 crossed the 65° line of latitude along Lake Kultsjön from where
the ongoing river dropped down Trappstegsforsen, a spectacular staircase of
rapids. A long drive brought us down the lower valley back to rejoin the
E45 Inlandsvägen just north of Vilhelmina where we had planned to stay at the
small lakeside Kolgården Camping which unfortunately was full for the Midsummer
holiday weekend. Instead we chose to drive south down to the smaller town of Dorotea to stay at Doro Camping, a campsite with the added attractive feature of
its own station-halt on the Inlandsbanan railway. Before leaving Vilhelmina we
called in at the TIC where the lady very efficiently helped us to sort out the
Byzantine mysteries of the Inlandsbanan timetable, and to make a telephone
booking for a ride on the railway despite the English version of their brochure
insisting that trains did not run on the Midsummer Day holiday. Tickets were
booked, seats reserved and assurances given that we could pay
the conductor on
board who would be expecting us as would the train driver who would know to stop
for us at Dorotea Camping halt - how very Swedishly reassuring and efficient! At
the end of a long and wearying day, we drove the 30kms down the E45 Inlandsvägen
to Dorotea a pleasant little town which bills itself as the southern gateway to
Lapland. At Doro Camping we received a warm welcome from the ex-pat Dutch owners
who impressively alternated between faultless English, Swedish and German, as
well of course as their native Dutch; the price was a very reasonable 195kr a
night all-in (no messing about with coins for showers) and site-wide wi-fi
internet at 20kr for the length of your stay. The flat terraced pitches
overlooked the forest where we could watch the Inlandsbanan trains passing
morning and evening; here was the perfect place to take a much-needed day in camp to
catch up with jobs, writing and photographs
(Photo 15 - Doro Camping). The following morning before
beginning our day's work, we walked down into the midge-infested woods to find the Inlandsbanan station-halt and see the morning
up-train passing through (see left). Doro Camping's 'station' consisted of a line-side
hut-shelter, a signboard and set of wooden steps for boarding the train. Around
10-15 we heard a distant whistle and the train's headlight appeared around a
bend in the track. As the bright red railcar trundled through the driver waved,
and just as quickly the train was gone again disappearing northwards into the
forest
(Photo 16 - Inlandsbanan train passing Doro Camping).
Without doubt Doro Camping at Dorotea was another of the trip's most memorable
campsites.
A ride on the Inlandsbanan railway:
a heavily overcast sky and drizzle for today's ride on the Inlandsbanan railway
from Dorotea Camping up to Storuman; this short trip was the only permutation
which the complex timetable made possible for a return journey on the same day.
Just one daily train runs each way for the journey of over 1,200 kms between
Mora in the south and Gällivare in the north (
Midges swarmed around our heads as we waited for
the train, due at 10-10am. Watches ticked round to 10-11, 10-13, 10-15 and still
no train; did it after all not run on the Midsummer public holiday? After a
tense few minutes, a distant whistle and the driver brought the railcar slowly
to a stop by the platform steps, giving us a friendly wave as she did so (see
left). The
door opened and we were greeted by the young conductor as we clambered aboard to
be shown our to seats and pay our seniors' reduced fare. The train moved away and we
were off on our Inlandsbanan ride. Just under an hour's
ride through the
forests, with the line running parallel with the E45 Inlandsvägen, brought us
into Vilhelmina where the train halted while some passengers took lunch
in the elegant station building. The onward journey northwards passed
through endless forest and bogland (Photo 17 - Travelling the Inlandsbanan through endless forests), crossing rivers on trestle-bridges
(see right) and
slowing at timber loading sidings where stocks of timber waited to be loaded
onto wagons. A further hour brought us into Storuman, another end-of-universe
town with still a frontier feel about it. The first Swedish settler had set up
his log cabin in what was to become Storuman in 1741; his first neighbour only
arrived 40 years later and today the sparsely populated municipality covering
over 8,000 square kms has a population density of less than 1 inhabitant per
square km. By WW1 the town had only 40 inhabitants and did not feel
much bigger as we walked across from the station today. As well as being served
by the Inlandsbanan, the small town stands at the crossing of the E45
Inlandsvägen and the E12 Blå Vägen, the main W~E cross-country road from Mo-I-Rana
in Norway to Umeå on the Bothnian Gulf coast of Sweden, following the mighty Ume
River, a major source of HEP generation along its 400km length, hence the town's
name Stor-Umen (Great Ume). The town also stands on the shore of one of the
river's large lakes of the same name.
we were unable to inspect its ornate interior. A 2 kms
midge-infested walk up into the forested hills to a look-out point brought ample
reward with flourishing wild flora (including this year's first sighting of our favourite Twin-flowers) and views across the forest to the distant misty
Lake Storuman dotted with islands. Back down into the town, we paused to
acknowledge the huge club-wielding giant Wildman statue, the emblem of Lapland,
and waited for our train at the station buffet. The south-bound train drew in,
another red railcar with front buffer-beam decorated with Midsummer birch
branches (Photo 18 - South-bound Inlandsbanan
arriving at Storuman), and we were welcomed aboard by the conductor who again was expecting
us from our booking; Swedish efficiency down to the last detail. On the return
journey, the train paused briefly on the girder-bridge spanning the wide Ume
River and at other river-crossings for the conductor to give a brief commentary,
duly translated into English for our benefit. At one point, the train slowed
with much sounding of horn as 3 young reindeer crossed the line and scampered
into the forest. The conductor even allowed us to sit in the rear driving cab to
take photos looking back along the line in the forest (Photo 19 - View down the line from the Inlandsbanan train). The train moved on for
the final stretch to Dorotea, coming to a stop at Dorotea Camping, and with
farewell waves of thanks to driver and conductor, we clambered down onto the
wooden steps for final photos as the train disappeared into the forest, and we
plodded wearily back up to the campsite. It had been a long day, maybe not the
most exciting of rail journeys, but there is no doubting that the Inlandsbanan
railway is still something special.
North from Dorotea to Storuman, and the Blå Vägen out to Tärnaby:
before leaving Dorotea to resume our northward journey, we drove up to the
parish church to see an unusual piece of artwork in the graveyard chapel, a
life-sized sculpture group of the Last Supper created by Björn Martinius. He was
born in Oslo in 1908 and trained in the art school there, fleeing to Sweden as a
political refugee in 1942 after the German occupation of Norway. He stayed in
Sweden until his death in 1968, and this representation of the Last Supper which
fills the graveyard chapel at Dorotea is considered his greatest work. With the
sky sullenly dark, it was an eerily uncanny sensation that greeted us on opening
the chapel door: 3 trestle-tables filled the small room with 13 life-like
gypsum figures sitting at supper and gesturing to the central Christ-figure (see
right) (Photo 20 - Last Supper sculpture at Dorotea graveyard chapel). Almost
apologising as intruders into a private function especially in the gloomy light,
we took our photos and quietly withdrew as the rain started. In lashing rain we
returned north to Storuman, this time driving the 60km up the E45 Inlandsvägen,
crossing the wide Umeälven river. Just north of the town, we turned off onto the
E12 Blå Vägen cross-country highway, which takes its name 'Blue Road' from
running alongside the waters of the Umeälven river and Lake Storuman. But today
in driving rain under a leaden sky, 'Grey Road'
would have been a more accurate description. In fine weather this would have been such an attractive route
alongside the continuous series of lakes and surrounded by high forested fells,
but in lashing misty rain and severely limited visibility we could see nothing.
As we rose higher up the valley, with no let up in the rain, we were almost
reaching cloud base; thankfully there was little traffic. It was still pouring
when we eventually reached Tärnaby and turned off to find the TIC, our only
source of local maps and information on mountain walks. We were greeted at the
TIC by a charming young lady; we were her first customers all day and she had
been about to close. Not only did she provide us with an excellent walking map
but also a detailed free walking guide to the Tärnaby and Hemavan fells; here
was certainly another contender for our TIC of the Year Award, and we felt very
mean when she peddled off home on her bicycle in the pouring rain. The village
of Tärnaby grew from what was one of the later Swedish settler colonies in the
Sámi northern lands, founded in 1832 on the shores of Lake Gäutan. We were
welcomed hospitably at Tärnaby Camping which is set on the banks of the
Tärnaforsen rapids, a fast-flowing narrow stretch of the Umeälven river
connecting Lakes Stor-Laisan and Gäutan under the shadow of Laxfjället hill (Photo 21 - Fast-flowing Umeälven
river at Tärnaby Camping). The
owners have kept the campsite for 20 years and clearly have a loyal following
among fisher-folk. With the rain still pouring and forecast suggesting no let
up, we selected a gravelly pitch down by the river and settled in, thankful for the
snug comfort of our camper (see left).
orchids
(see right). The path crossed
lower woods on board-walks and immediately steeper climbing began up through
dense birch woods, the ground wet from recent rain. As we gained height, the
narrow path was lined with not only familiar northern wild flora but many
delicate pale lilac and white orchids; many photos were taken to help with the
difficult later task of identification. Up through the steep woodland, we
eventually emerged from the trees onto more open fell-land, and immediately
found large patches of beautiful Mountain Avens, their white flowers battered by
yesterday's torrential rain (Photo 22 - Mountain Avens - Dryas octopetala). There were also the ground-hugging leaves and
unripe berries of Bearberry, purple Alpine Bartsia and the tiny blue flowers of
Alpine Speedwell. As we gained further height on the open fell, the ground
became much wetter slowing our upward progress having to negotiate water courses
and marshy areas. Eventually gaining drier ground over exposed bed-rock where
yellow flowered Roseroot grew, we made our way to the high-point which was
capped with the radio masts of a meteorological station (see left) (Photo 23 - Summit plateau of Blomsterfjället). Concerned about route
finding on the descent amid the confusion of snow-mobile tracks, we worked
our way down getting a soaking crossing the boggy terrain. Back at camp, revived
by hot showers and a cold beer, we now had wet boots, socks and gaiters to dry
with little prospect of sun.
Hemavan Alpine Botanical Gardens:
before leaving the Tärnaby area, we drove back around the Umeälven valley to
visit the Hemavan Alpine Botanical Gardens. Sweden's highest botanical gardens
were founded in 1989 by academic botanist Olof Rune, and sited on a low ridge
above the Hemavan Fjällpark and Naturum at the southern start-point of the 400km
Kungsleden (King's Way) long distance foot path. The gardens aim to provide
access to a diversity of local mountain flora and protected plant species in a
natural habitat. 400m of pathway has been laid out in a loop around the ridge with the flora arranged in separate raised timber-sided beds, the shaded
northern side giving a habitat for mountain flora and the sunnier southern side
for valley plants. Walking up the steep starting section of the Kungsleden to
the gardens' free of charge entry point, we followed the sequence of plant
beds around the loop, so absorbed with photographing the well-labelled and
maintained plots as to be indifferent to the biting midges swarming around our
heads. We recognised several of the species seen on yesterday's Blomsterfjället
walk, but the star of the show, tucked away rather obscurely in plot 20, the
Brudkulla Orchid (Gymnadenia runei), a newly identified species of orchid
discovered originally in 1960 by the Garden's founder and named in his honour.
It was determined by gene analysis in 1987 to be a hybrid species between the
rare Black Vanilla Orchid and Fragrant Orchid, and is only found on the local fells.
There was just one specimen of this demurely bashful little orchid, maroon in
colour with a pom-pom head of florets (Photo 24 - Brudkulla Orchid - Gymnadenia runei ). On the natural
hill-slope above, wild orchids grew in profusion and we spent a wet-kneed half
hour photographing them. This unassuming alpine botanical gardens was one of
finest we had ever seen, so well-labelled and successfully achieving its aim of
showing mountain flora at their very best taking full advantage of the natural
setting.
or hydro-electric power generation with a sequence of dams at each
lake stretching the 148kms of the valley. It was a spectacular drive past the
lakes overshadowed by high and distinctly shaped mountains, none of which we had
been able to see or appreciate in the drive up in pouring rain. Returning to Storuman, we stocked up with provisions and turned north on E45 Inlandsvägen
once again for the 70km drive to Sorsele. The road passed through attractive
spruce forests dotted with lakes and we made good progress northwards running
parallel with the Inlandsbanan railway to reach Sorsele within the hour. We
pulled into the forecourt of the little railway station where the modest little
Inlandsbanan Railway Museum is now housed in the former parcels depot. The
museum charts the Inlandsbanan's 100 years of history from its construction to
life along the line. Ironically the railway's most intensive and profitable
usage was during WW2 when between 1940~43, 2 million German troops and huge
quantities of war materials were transported through the territory of supposedly
neutral Sweden. 12,000 German troops each week were moved by train between
Trondheim and Narvik in occupied Norway rapidly along the Inlandsbanan via
Östersund, Arvidsjaur and Gällivare in Sweden by the so-called 'Horseshoe
Traffic' (Hästskotrafiken) from the shape of the
route. No wonder the Swedish
economy was so buoyant during WW2 with the income from aiding the Germans with
troop transportation and selling them iron ore and steel, a cynically lucrative
line for a supposedly neutral country. The museum's displays showed a black and
white photograph of a Swedish soldier superintending German troops being loaded
into an Inlandsbanan transport train (see left).
Vindelälven valley to Ammarnäs: the
following day, we set out along Route 363 up the Vindelälven valley for the 70km
drive alongside the river which at this stage ran sluggishly swelling out
naturally into wide lakes. Shapely, round-topped and precipitously craggy
peaks peered out above the attractive spruce and birch woods lining the river.
Along the flat-bottomed valley with views of distant snow-streaked mountains, we
passed through farming hamlets where recently cut hay in the alpine meadows waited to be gathered for the coming winter's cattle feed. Beyond here the river
ran through a more confined rocky canyon and hemmed in by craggy walls it
hastened its pace over white-water rapids. As we approached Ammarnäs, the valley
opened out again into an impressively wide bowl with the tiny alpine settlement
set against the far side-wall backed by high fells and the Vindelälven now
running more gently through meadows where cattle grazed. The tiny mountain
village of Ammarnäs with only 250 population, a third of whom still make their
living from reindeer husbandry, nestles in a bowl of the hills in the flatlands
between the Vindelälven and Tjulån rivers in the shadow of Ammarfjället which
towers overhead. It had been a Sámi settlement for 100s of years from where the
reindeer herders migrated with their animals to summer pastures high in the
mountains. The first Swedish settlers arrived in the early 19th century, the
village's founding settler Nils Johansson eking out a living here from 1821. It
was he who began planting the northern Swedish sweet yellow potato on the
south-facing moraine hillock at the eastern end of the village still used today
and known as Potatisbacken (Potato Hill) (Photo 25 - Potatisbacken
(Potato Hill) at Ammarnäs). The story goes that early attempts to
cultivate potatoes down in the fertile ground by the river ended in failure with
the tubers rotting at such a northerly location. A child stole a handful of
potatoes and fearing punishment hid them on the hillock where they were found
successfully growing, and saved the settler families from starvation.
We crossed the river to reach the junction of the
village's main street. The girl at the TIC was a mine of information about
local Sámi reindeer herding practices and translated details of local fell-walks
into English for us. We needed a place to camp and she suggested we try the stugby (hut
encampment) in the woods
just north of the village where the Vindelälven descends turbulently down
rapids (Photo 26 - Vindelåforsen rapids at Ammarnäs). On the way round we paused to photograph the wooden church and its
neighbouring small Sámi church-town of wooden huts still used by those attending
annual church festivals(see right) (Photo 27 - Wooden church at Ammarnäs). Nearby was the markedly steep Potato Hill divided out into plots.
We turned up alongside the river and just before the lane crossed the rapids we
found the Vindelåforsen Stugby where the owner Urban Bergland was
more than happy for us to camp on a cosily flat grassy area among the huts. As
we stood being devoured by midges, he told us more of Ammarnäs' history, both of
Sámi reindeer herders and Swedish settlers who had mostly been the younger sons
of families from down the valley whose farms passed to the eldest son. His own
father had farmed here and built the stugby back in the 1960s. We gladly settled
in getting the Bagon diffuser going to clear the swarms of invading midges from
the camper. From an uncertain start, we had by good chance found a welcoming
place to camp and, in the gloom of evening, half expected to come face to face with a brown bear stumbling
from the surrounding woods.
turned off alongside the stream leading eventually to a wooden water-mill which had once served local
farmsteads. Beyond here, a path branched off sign-posted for Örnbo and gaining
height up a pine forested ridge for 2 kms leading after while to the overgrown
meadow of the abandoned farmstead nestled in a hollow on a ledge high above
Gautsträsk lake (see left) and backed by dense forest (Photo 28 - Remote mountain
farmstead of Örnbo). The name Örnbo means Eagle's Nest
from its high location on this ledge overlooking the lake (see right); the farmstead had
been built in 1860 by a Sámi, Anders Jonsson. A widow of the Jonsson family, Ewa
occupied the farm in the
1890s with her 7 children, and one of her sons
continued with the farm until his death in 1952 when Örnbo was abandoned. This
isolated farm had never had electricity or running water and is now conserved as
a reminder of the hardy settler life-style. After a look around, we set off for
the long and wearyingly hot return walk down the length of the forested ridge (Photo
29 - Forested ridge
leading down from
Örnbo),
keeping a watchful eye to avoid straying from the path, and that evening cooked
a suitably incongruous curry supper camped on a forested hillside in Northern
Sweden. 
who
migrate seasonally with their herds between summer pastures in the high fells
and over-winter in the lower forests, the Forest Sámi remain all year round with
the reindeer in the forests. This was the reason we were now suddenly seeing
reindeer along the roads and reindeer fencing along the forest sides. The nearby
marshlands also provided good feeding grounds for cranes and alongside the road
we passed 2 mother cranes leading young chicks. 12kms from Arvidsjaur, the E45
joined the more major Route 95, the so-called Silver Way which runs
cross-country from Skellefteå on the Bothnian Gulf over to Bodø on the west
coast of Norway. Arvidsjaur had for centuries been a meeting place where the
region's Sámi had traditionally gathered for trade. Protestant missionaries had
built the first church here in 1606 to convert the Sámi to Christianity and a
Swedish pioneer settlement developed as a supply post for the silver mines in
the nearby mountains. The Sámi continued to assemble here on market days and
festivals. Today it is a drab town with apartment blocks and modern shops
spreading along each side of the main street of Storgatan. Of a population of
5,000 in Arvidsjaur, there are still 20 Sámi families who make their living from
reindeer husbandry. Amid this aura of banal mediocrity, Arvidsjaur does have one
redeeming feature, Lappstaden church-town, a preserved collection of over 80
Sámi kåtor and Swedish settler church huts. In the 18~19th centuries, church
attendance laws imposed a compulsory level of church time which was difficult
for the nomadic Sámi to fulfil. With distances in these wild Northern lands long
and travel only possible by boat or by sledge in winter, the Sámi built their
kåtor and the settlers their huts as overnight stay for church services
attendance at Arvidsjaur church. The Lappstaden collection of huts was
gathered at its present location in the early 19th century and preserved thanks
to the efforts of a local Sámi school teacher, Karin Stenberg. The 80 or so huts
are still owned by the Sámi and used for the annual feast of Storstämming on the
last weekend of August (see left). Today this now peaceful collection of the
pyramidal-shaped kåtor and settler huts is set like a deserted time-warp
incongruously amid modern apartment blocks on the outskirts of Arvidsjaur (Photo
31 - Lappstaden Sámi church-town at Arvidsjaur).
A serendipitous find of Sjöstjärnan Camping:
our original plan had been to camp here at Arvidsjaur, but Gielas Camping proved over-priced, unwelcoming and unappealing
and a telephone call to Kraja Camping at Arjeplog demonstrated the very worst of
inhospitable complacency; these 2 over-promoted campsites were self-evident
No-No's! We drove NW along Route 95 towards Arjeplog in search of an acceptable
campsite, and as usual in such circumstances, the Blessed St Serendipity came to
our rescue. A sign pointed along a side lane to Sjöstjärnan Camping and ended at
a farmhouse with beautifully tended lawns, set on the peninsula of Långträskholmen surrounded on 3 sides by floral meadows and the waters of Lake
Långträsket, and backed by high craggy fells beyond; it was a truly beautiful
setting and an ideal base for our visit tomorrow to Arjeplog (Photo 32 - Sjöstjärnan Camping near Arjeplog). We were greeted
most affably and in fluent English by the owner Beatrice Karlsson: camp where you like
and take power from one of the huts. Sjöstjärnan Camping had been in her family
for several generations and she had grown up here with her mother and
grandmother. She now worked as a radio journalist in Luleå and kept the campsite
almost as a hobby, with Ulf, a gentle and kindly man, managing the campsite while
she was away at work during the week. We happily settled into what would have
been a little paradise, had it not been for the swarms of midges attracted by
the long grass and water. As the Arctic sun settled low over the nearby fells
(see right), Beatrice came round
to give us detailed
advice to help with our visit to Arjeplog.
Arjeplog and the panorama of lakes from
Galtispuda summit: the municipality of Arjeplog covers a vast area of
unpopulated forests, mountains and 9,000 lakes, the size of Belgium but with a
population of just 3,000 of whom 2,000 live in Arjeplog, a small and unassuming
town spread across a series of peninsulas and interconnected islands of Lake
Hornavan, Sweden's deepest lake at 226m on the Skellefteålven river system. We
had been warned by Ulf to keep a close eye open for reindeer along Route 95, and
soon passed a number of animals grazing on the roadside verge (see left). One of Beatrice's
suggestions for our visit to Arjeplog was the 800m high rounded top mountain of
Galtispuda
with its panoramic views over the town and lakes; she had given us a
sketch map of the approach lane. Encouraged by her assurance that the lane led
almost to the summit, we turned off just before the town across a series of
interconnected sandy alluvial eskers and causeways, following signs to
Galtispuda. With nervous uncertainty, we advanced up the single-track, poorly
surfaced and unduly steep lane, parking at a wide plateau area some 600m from
the summit. The rain had eased but low cloud still drifted around the 2 radio
masts which we could see ahead crowning the summit as we walked up the final
section of steep lane. What should have been an unbelievable distant panorama of
lakes and mountains was obscured by misty cloud; even so the view showed the
network of lakes on which Arjeplog was set. The flat-topped summit area was
deserted but the view across the interconnected network of lakes was even more
startlingly extensive, far more water than land with the little town of Arjeplog
lost among all the water. Even on a misty day with the view obscured by low
heavy cloud, this was a remarkable vantage point showing the vast scale of this
scarcely populated remote terrain. Nearer at hand, the fell-top ground cover of
crowberry was interspersed with the creeping strands of bearberry now showing
its unripe berries with a few hardy fell flowers surviving even at this exposed
height.
Among the botanical gems growing among the rocks at
the sides of the paths, the highlight was to discover ripening fruits of
Cloudberry (Photo 35 - Ripening Cloudberry fruit - Rubus chamaemorus). We owed Beatrice particular thanks; without her directions we should
never have found this beautiful lagoon of lakes and islands linked by
board-walks and so close to the town. Driving back later along Route 95, traffic
was brought to a halt by an entire herd of reindeer ambling along the road (Photo
36 - Reindeer herd
ambling along Route 95 near Arjeplog).
Sjöstjärnan
Camping open only from June~August had proved such a welcoming and
straightforward little campsite and good value at just 170kr/night. When we left
the following morning, we took with us such happy memories of our stay there and
the help we had received from such good people.
