Melting Peaks // Lapland
Melting Peaks // Lapland
The peak was submerged in a sea of swirling mists, cascading down the sheer mountain into the valley from where we peered upwards. The full form of Kebnekaise, Sweden’s highest mountain at 2,097m, was hidden from view without losing any of its omnipresence. Protected from the harsh winds that were sure to pummel us once we reached the exposed ridge far above, it was a chance to enjoy the stillness, add layers of clothing and refill from the final water source.
This western part of Lapland was a puzzling surprise for instead of rolling, snow-covered hills of spruce and silver birch, the Scandinavian Mountains rise up in a spine that stretches along the border with Norway into the far north. Best reached by night-train from Stockholm, with the track gently meandering through forests and sparsely populated wilderness until the silhouettes of the mountains appear on the horizon.
The huts along the route of the Kungsleden (King’s Trail) were already closing for the season as we’d trekked past, the busy and very short summer for this 440km arctic trail through Sweden’s wildest regions was edging towards the heavy snows of winter. Only hardy souls remained on the trail; a beautiful time of year to seek solace in these wild places.
The peak was submerged in a sea of swirling mists, cascading down the sheer mountain into the valley from where we peered upwards. The full form of Kebnekaise, Sweden’s highest mountain at 2,097m, was hidden from view without losing any of its omnipresence. Protected from the harsh winds that were sure to pummel us once we reached the exposed ridge far above, it was a chance to enjoy the stillness, add layers of clothing and refill from the final water source.
This western part of Lapland was a puzzling surprise for instead of rolling, snow-covered hills of spruce and silver birch, the Scandinavian Mountains rise up in a spine that stretches along the border with Norway into the far north. Best reached by night-train from Stockholm, with the track gently meandering through forests and sparsely populated wilderness until the silhouettes of the mountains appear on the horizon.
The huts along the route of the Kungsleden (King’s Trail) were already closing for the season as we’d trekked past, the busy and very short summer for this 440km arctic trail through Sweden’s wildest regions was edging towards the heavy snows of winter. Only hardy souls remained on the trail; a beautiful time of year to seek solace in these wild places.
From our wild camping spot further down the valley, it was 1800m of upwards slog that day as the route takes you over a minor peak before the real ascent begins; loose scree, ice patches and switchbacks. The strengthening gusts seemed to hold the clouds in check and we emerged above them to a staggering vista of snow-capped mountains stretching far in all directions. A final push through scrunching snow led us to a vast plateau with a strikingly quaint emergency hut set against blue skies and sunshine; a rarity on this mountain. The remnants of a glacier on top was Sweden’s highest point barely 20 years ago though climate change has changed that – the southern peak has lost over 20m since then (2m in the last year), together with a third of the glacier.
A knife-edge transverse along an exposed ridge of ice is needed to reach the new higher northern peak, where there is no glacier to melt away. With the high winds this was a scary proposition, changing a mountain hike into what felt more like a mountaineering expedition. Swedish Lapland was really delivering something special; unnerving and yet unforgettable.
Kebnekaise was truly a wondrous mountain to climb, that put the rest of our week long trek into perspective; a stark reminder that rapid change is already affecting our wildest regions. The Arctic is warming at twice the pace of the global norm. Around 150km north of the Arctic Circle, the King’s Trail edges north from Kebnakaise past remote valleys that beg for return exploration until the lake-side town of Abisko is reached. By the time we got there the snows had finally fallen and the route was now only possible on cross-country skis or snowmobile; another adventure for another time.
From our wild camping spot further down the valley, it was 1800m of upwards slog that day as the route takes you over a minor peak before the real ascent begins; loose scree, ice patches and switchbacks. The strengthening gusts seemed to hold the clouds in check and we emerged above them to a staggering vista of snow-capped mountains stretching far in all directions. A final push through scrunching snow led us to a vast plateau with a strikingly quaint emergency hut set against blue skies and sunshine; a rarity on this mountain. The remnants of a glacier on top was Sweden’s highest point barely 20 years ago though climate change has changed that – the southern peak has lost over 20m since then (2m in the last year), together with a third of the glacier.
A knife-edge transverse along an exposed ridge of ice is needed to reach the new higher northern peak, where there is no glacier to melt away. With the high winds this was a scary proposition, changing a mountain hike into what felt more like a mountaineering expedition. Swedish Lapland was really delivering something special; unnerving and yet unforgettable.
Kebnekaise was truly a wondrous mountain to climb, that put the rest of our week long trek into perspective; a stark reminder that rapid change is already affecting our wildest regions. The Arctic is warming at twice the pace of the global norm. Around 150km north of the Arctic Circle, the King’s Trail edges north from Kebnakaise past remote valleys that beg for return exploration until the lake-side town of Abisko is reached. By the time we got there the snows had finally fallen and the route was now only possible on cross-country skis or snowmobile; another adventure for another time.
