26th day, Låddejåhkå–Staddajåhkå

Maybe they are living by their home clock too. They come into the dining area to pack just like I do. One of them has the same quilt as I do, and the other one also uses toe socks.

The morning is gloomy, with a light drizzle. The trail undulates all day and is tougher than I expected. I had to combine three short hut segments into one. The views, however, are excellent.

Arasluokta is the next hut. Supposedly, you can get Sámi bread and smoked fish here. A sign on the door says the hut wardens are available at six o’clock; otherwise, to reach them, you must go to the blue or green house in the village. I check every house that looks vaguely blue or green but meet no one. Well, not quite true. I meet a dog, who seems just as happy not to be alone anymore.

Back at the hut, the hostess has appeared. The bread is in the village, but the fish is right here. She gestures that I can take some crispbread too. Fine by me. She takes out a fish from a bag and asks if I want one. Hmm, one fish… better make it two. I also grab a packet of hiking food from the shelf, the only one she has. I’ve started doubting Pieskehaure as a supply point. The Sámi surely cross the border often, so I ask if Norwegian currency works here. It does. She writes “500” on a piece of paper. I only have 200-kroner notes and hand her three. She doesn’t mind, and neither do I. At this point, the bills are just colorful paper to me anyway.

Outside, at the picnic table, a Dutch hiker has shown up. I’m tearing into the fish with my bare hands while he talks about his new hiking boots, blisters, and taking smoked fish to Sarek. I save the second fish for dinner.

After Arasluokta, the sun comes out. Next to the trail, I find ripe cloudberries, blueberries and crowberries. Lucky for me that here walk people from cultures where it’s not customary to put things from beside the road into their mouths.

The next settlement, Staloluokta, lies on the turquoise shores of Virishaure Lake. A sign advertises bread being sold somewhere nearby, but I’m too tired to investigate, and there are still 12 km to go.

Beyond this, the scenery is spectacular. Badjelánnda means “high land,” a vast green valley between wild Sarek and Norway’s wild mountains. It rains, then stops, then rains again. It gets cold; I swap the mosquito net in my pocket for gloves.

Before Staddajåhkå, the sun reappears and the lake sparkles. Tempted to camp… but the weather forecast predicts heavy rain in the morning, so I lose interest.

At the hut, I get an entire six-bed winter hut to myself. In Sweden, there’s always one room or hut left unlocked for emergencies; in Norway, not anymore. That’s why a Danish couple had to break a window recently during a storm. I eat the second fish as an appetizer, this time with the luxury of a fork.

Distance today: 36.4 km. An exhausting day.