29th day, Vaimok–Tarrekaise

If the weather is still nice in the evening, I might camp on the last night, for symmetry’s sake.

The trail crosses a rocky ridge and then continues gently downhill, where bluish mountains and a wide valley come into view. I spot a loon on the lake, croaking and honking, probably a red-throated diver. I pick blueberries along the way and take a break at the Kurajaure hut.

A herd of reindeer passes by. I notice that the German guidebook marks a campsite between Tarrekaise and Njunes.

Willows and tall grasses start appearing. The trail now becomes steeper, and suddenly I’m deep in the forest. Across the lake, the lower part of slopes is covered with vegetation and the hills look like they’re bearded. I make a short detour to see the Tarraälvshyddan hut, one of the first mountain huts in Sweden, built in 1889. The door is low, inside there’s an open fireplace and a simple sleeping platform. In the bushes outside, a willow tit scolds loudly. Then there’s a bridge over the Tarrätno river.

After that, things get interesting. Earlier, I met some Swedes who warned me that the trail ahead is wet and overgrown, but you can “see where people have walked.” At first, that’s true. There are a few streams, water so warm and shallow that I even bother to film myself crossing one. Which, of course, means I first have to set up the camera on the opposite bank, wade back, and then cross again pretending it’s the first time.

Soon, though, the trampled path fades. Over one muddy creek, there’s a scrawny tree trunk serving as a “bridge.” I drag over a second trunk to make it safer, but lose my balance on my improvised construction, and fall flat on my stomach. I get up, laughing at myself. At least I managed to throw myself towards the bank, so only my toes went into the water, which were already wet anyway.

But then the faint trail disappears into another stretch of water. I scramble up the bank and fight through some brush until I eventually find a properly trampled path again. What seems to have happened here is that someone earlier must have lost the overgrown trail, tried to find it again using GPS, and others followed their zigzag detours. I probably added a few loops of my own for future hikers to puzzle over. Likely I was wading through water the original trail maker hadn’t planned. Entertaining in hindsight, but this section is poorly marked. On the bright side, I don’t often get so much to write about covering just a couple hundred meters.

The trail reconnects with Padjelantaleden and from here, everything should be straightforward. I reach the Tarrekaise hut, take a quick Snickers break, and push on. It’s about 3.5 km to the supposed campsite.

The terrain now turns challenging: huge boulders on the trail, parts of the boardwalk are completely submerged, and where there are no rocks or water, there’s deep mud and grass up to my chest. Phew. This is exhausting terrain.

But. At the end of the lake, slightly off the trail, there’s a patch of trampled grass with a fire ring and a stunning view over the lake. And no one else is camping there yet. Perfect. There’s no wind, and strangely, no mosquitoes either. The sun is shining, and there’s plenty of time to pitch the tent, change into warm clothes, eat dinner, and then just sit there, gaze out over the lake, and think about nothing at all.

Distance today: 27.9 km.