Monday 31/8 – Sunday 6/9

Monday 31/8

The cottage seen from the privy

I awoke rested to light rain, which increased while I was still lying in bed. Some snow had reappeared on the higher peaks, but it was not much. While my guests prepared for departure a wind picked up, but the sun was pushing through more and more. Since the evenings were now becoming dark I brought out some candles, but before putting them into place I had to clean out the holders, for people apparently do not have the sense to extinguish the flame before the top of the candle recedes below the rim. It was somewhat chilly outside, and there was a feel of autumn in the air. I listened to the radio as another bout of rain passed, and then had lunch.

After that the rain really poured down, so I remained inside examining maps and suchlike. Then a woman arrived from Låddejåkkå, and it was soon clear to me that this was Yvonne, an Utsidan member whom I had given some advice earlier regarding the tour she was now on; she had started in Kvikkjokk and gone westwards – like I did three years earlier – rounding Sulidälbmá, and then walked through Padjelanta as I had just done. Shortly thereafter two campers passed by from the north, stopping just long enough to chat for a bit – and to leave some garbage.

When they had left I sat down to talk with Yvonne, comparing experiences and so on, and all the while the downpour continued, as did the wind. I then tested the assistance phone – the installers had told me that it would not be connected "at the other end" before today – and it worked like a charm. Following my afternoon tea I returned to Yvonne, and we had a long discussion about STF, the fjelds, and how these interrelate – or don't. It was still raining heavily, so the two people who arrived next were rather happy to get indoors; they were headed for Tarrekaise eventually, where they would team up with the warden there (whom they knew) and then walk with her to Kvikkjokk at the end of the season. Suddenly an elk appeared on the other side of the stream, and it was kind (or vain) enough to place itself in such a way that it could be photographed properly before it retreated.

The post-dinner weather was even worse, but a bit later the worst of it moved on, even though the wind remained. When I was halfway through the third Swedish football game a very wet and tired couple came from Vaisaluokta, and I spoke some with them before it was time for the second half, to which I had some popcorn for good measure. After it was finished I went over to the others for money and talk, and then prepared another mini-report for STF; I was headed for the best summer ever – or at least since 1986, which was as far back as the on-site historical data went. It was still raining, and it was already apparent that the stream had risen considerably; the falls were greater and noisier as well. I was the last one to turn off the light at 22, and not surprisingly the rainfall had not ceased.

Tuesday 1/9

Neither had it ceased the following morning, but at least it was light, the clouds were not too low, and the wind nonexistent. I was feeling tired and stayed in bed for a while longer, and then waved goodbye to Yvonne. After breakfast two of the others also left as it started to rain again, but by the time the last two exited it had stopped. Going down to Sieberjåhkå I was met by the highest and wildest water yet, and the upper bathing place was unusable. It was misty all around, but a light shone over the Swan valley.

After some quiet time inside I went out for a photo round in the vicinity, going a bit downstream on the other side of the bridge to see the falls from a new angle. Things grew lighter all the while, and the autumn feeling was ever-present. Then a couple of campers came from the south, and I awaited their arrival on the porch. They had spent the night down at the three bridges, and were to take a break before continuing. I remained in place while they went to photograph the lower fall; in the west there had come a haze which threatened rain, but nothing came of it, and upon the Swan-valley mists there was a soft light. After a small snack the other two went on their way and I returned inside, sorting through the old guestbooks. When it was time for lunch I made a small pack and went down to the cliff by the lower fall.

Lots of...

...water...

...in the falls

Home sweet home

The other side

Giants kettle

Flow

Bridge

Nice cliffs

There I could sit sheltered from a wind that had started, and it was not long before the sun began to break through – at the outflow of Sieberjåhkå into Guvtjávrre first, but as I waited it approached. When it came the result was beautiful, and after photographing where I was I returned up to take the lower path, from where the fall was a most impressive sight. When the sun was hidden by another cloud of the larger variety I went up again, but rather than entering the cottage I set about picking blueberries at the start of the path to the lake. Suddenly I heard a sound coming from this path, and moments later a reindeer came walking up the slope, but it turned on its heel and rushed back down as soon as it spotted me looking at it.

When I was done I sat on the bench for a while; the sun shone weakly through a veil, and the eastern peaks were shaking their cloud caps. I then walked around the "yard", feeling rather comfortable, and identified a bird of prey that was circling above – oftentimes they had been too far away for a positive ID, but this time I could clearly see the wing markings of the rough-legged buzzard. I read in my book out on the porch while the clouds lifted further still, but a new veil was en route. I had afternoon tea, upon which three people came from Vaisaluokta, followed by a light rain from the other direction. When they had settled in I walked over to talk, and got to relate quite a few pieces of advice as we studied the map together.

After dinner the clouds were back to low, but the water of Sieberjåhkå was even higher; now almost none of the rocks were showing. Later in the evening as I went through the motions with the guests it rained extensively, but it soon passed even though the clouds stayed behind. Since the others were having an early night I spent the rest of the evening in my room doing tranquil things, being somewhat tired myself, and when I went to bed at the usual time it was raining lightly again, which developed into a downpour before I had fallen asleep.

Wednesday 2/9

When I woke up there was no rain, and even though it was overcast the cloud base was higher than all the peaks, so things were looking up, sort of. I noted that a few more trees down in the forest had started to turn yellow, and the slopes of the fjelds across Guvtjávrre were displaying the rich browns of autumn. Just as the trio left another light rain started, which later turned into a heavy in-the-middle-of-a-cloud kind. I sorted through the left-behind provisions and then settled down to read and/or do crosswords to the radio, and kept at it until lunch.

Cloudy yet light

Part of Gisuris

The rain had just stopped when I heard a sound right outside, and when I went to look I saw a man who had dumped his pack beside the door and then immediately taken off along the northbound trail; he soon returned, and excused himself with having gone looking for the warden (in Padjelanta the warden's housing is separate from the guest buildings). He was of Danish origin, and even though I often have problems understanding Danes his dialect was distinct enough that I managed well. The rain had started again, and it was bad enough to produce a sharp decrease in visibility; a keen wind also came into being. I wrote down some things for my final report to STF, after which the weather did something unexpected: it grew lighter at the same time as the rainfall increased further. In the middle of all this a single hiker came from the south, but he soon walked off again – taking the wrong path, of course.

It was now somewhat sunny, and the wind had died down, so I went out on a photo round. I had thought I had already seen the all-time high with regard to water levels, but I was wrong, for Sieberjåhkå was now an inferno of foam. The clouds were breaking apart quickly, and I sat down on the porch for a small snack. It was actually rather nice for a while, but when the newly returned sun was clouded once more I went back in; it was, however, slowly clearing on the whole. I went over to the Dane, who had heated the room more than most people would, and talked some until it was time for dinner and dessert.

Bridge-fall from above...

...and from below

Clouds around Áhkká...

...and Gisuris

It had grown very nice outside, and I wanted to make use of these fine conditions to go up to the big waterfall, while it was still boosted from the high waters. I did so, walking the path on the other side of the bridge, and even from a distance the fall made a powerful impression. Unfortunately, however, the sun was about to be hidden behind a large cloud that held position in the west. Looking at the ground I saw a host of pretty colors, for the low shrubs and other low-level vegetation had come much further with their autumn garb. When I drew near to the fall there was quite a bit of spray in the air – much more than before, and at a larger distance – and the fall itself was considerably greater.

I climbed up to the top, feeling awed by the enormous masses of water in motion, and just when I reached it the sun decided to break through the cloud for just a moment – and what a moment. Further upstream Sieberjåhkå the clouds were dense, but over Guvtjávrre and the fjelds to the east it was still light (and sunlit). I walked out on the rocks close to the water, exercising great caution as these rocks were slippery wet from both rain and spray, and came down on the soft grass below the steep slope. Here a cold and very local wind was blowing, carrying so much drops that I got rather wet just from standing still. As I walked back the clouds spread across the sky, and I felt the first signs of approaching rain.

Already impressive

Still sunny around Áhkká...

...and the Swan valley

Quite noticeably more water in the fall now than before

Closeup

At the top

Sun!

Don't slip

Again, don't slip

The water entering the canyon...

...overgrown with moss

Looking south at the steep part

Spray-y

The end of the ruovdásj

Colorful...

...ground

I returned around 19, just as the sun made another brief visit. Shortly a light shower started, which was coupled with more light for a few moments. From there on outside conditions were rather unstable, even though for the most part it did not rain, and I relaxed inside. Since the Dane had announced that he would be leaving early the next morning I wrote a brief summary of the late weather forecast and put it up at the notice board, as requested. Outside a few stars could be seen in the cracks in the cloud cover, so it was truly getting darker.

Thursday 3/9

Colored clouds...

...in the morning

Somewhat lower water...

...but still fully adequate

I awoke in the early morning after a peculiar dream involving a bear, and when I was returning from the taking of a leak I met the Dane, who was not far from ready. Back in bed I could not fall asleep again, and I arose in time for the morning weather report. The clouds were breaking up and there was a wee bit of sun, but the wind was chilling. The water had shrunk back quite noticeably during the night, but it was still high compared to how it had been when I first arrived. The weather appeared to be looking up, and I decided to go for one last day tour, leaving after 08:45.

Go to day tour report »

I took off the wettest stuff in the vestibule and hung them up to dry, and when the rain had passed I rushed down to the bath. The sun had come back, but it disappeared again as I was drying myself. I then had afternoon tea, after which a trio from Låddejåkkå came. In a subsequent shower another two people arrived, followed by a single man – and this was none other than Bartosz from Poland, whom I had been in contact with before either of us started our respective journeys. I talked some with him and the pair, and then collected payment from everyone while another shower passed by.

After dinner there was some sun again, which together with the passing rain produced a rainbow of high intensity. Just about then another two people came from Kisuris, which meant that I could now claim an all-time high if the past stats were to be trusted. I then talked for a long while with the first pair and Bartosz, followed by more conversation with the others. As I was resting/reading one of the guests alerted me to the fact that the gas stove wouldn't play ball, and I was immediately gladdened by this news.

The reason for this reaction was that ever since taking over I had been waiting for one of the gas canisters to run out so that I could exchange it while there were still people about to help me do it, but since it was somewhat late I just moved the connector to the spare canister for now, postponing the switch to the next morning. A full moon was just emerging from the clouds above Gisuris, which together with the darkness, the cold and a thin mist rising from the stream made for a special atmosphere. The reflection in the rushing water – again lower, but it had some ways to go – was pretty, and not that many clouds remained, so it was a serene evening.

Friday 4/9

I woke up early and went out to see the advent of dawn; it was just above freezing, but there were no signs of frost. I went back to bed and remained there as people started arising, and when I got up for real later I started out by wrapping my injured ankle in gauze for support. The high veils that had been in the sky earlier were growing more numerous, weakening the sunlight. The last pair to arrive the day before were just leaving, and I related the weather forecast. Since they were running low on food they decided to pay a visit to the Sámi by the lake, in case they were still there, to buy some fish and/or bread if possible.

I then went in to the other two and Bartosz – the trio had already left – and spoke for a while, after which one of those others helped me carry a full gas canister (~90kg) from the storage building, which was heavy work. The empty one, which weighs "only" half, I could manage on my own, and then I started heating water for washing. Most of the veils had moved off, but more were on the way from the southeast. I talked some with Bartosz, who was now the only one remaining, and then washed clothes on the porch. As the new veils pulled themselves before the sun he went for a visit to the upper waterfall, and after rinsing and hanging the now much cleaner clothes I locked up the eastern guest room.

Fire in the... rusty thing

It was time to take care of the rubbish, and I loaded all sacks of burnables produced thus far into the little incinerator and fired it up. While I was tending to it a very hot drop of some less than savory liquid fell onto my finger and singed it, taking a sizeable chunk of skin with it. Just then two foreigners came from the north, but they went on at once, so I could go inside to clean and bandage the wound. The cloud front was now directly overhead, and as I rested on the porch the sun diminished drastically. Bartosz soon returned, happy as few, and we talked some more about fjelds and stuff before he finally departed for Vaisaluokta. After some radio it was lunchtime, and I ate out on the porch. I stayed outside reading and observed a low bank of clouds approaching from the east, but it got stuck around the massifs on the other side of Guvtjávrre. The forest now looked more autumnal, so after finishing the book I went for a walk.

I walked down to the first deteriorated hut along the lake path, from where I proceeded down to the stream. This gave me a different outlook on the lower fall, and this was the first time I had truly seen it from below rather than from the side at some angle. I then walked along the stony shore until it ended, at which point I picked my way through some small thickets up to a wet patch of moss. This was a slight problem as I was just wearing the sandals, but I managed to get past it by crossing more thickets along the edge, and then followed a reindeer path to the third hut.

Here I increased speed and jogged up onto the nearby hill, and my ankle mostly felt fine – until I made a wrong step. It was not particularly bad, but not painless either, and it certainly did nothing to aid recuperation. Up on the hilltop I took off the gauze and put it back on with higher pressure, and then went back down with a gait that would probably have looked somewhat funny had there been anyone to observe it. Now rainfall was approaching at last through the Swan valley, and a wind was picking up as I walked gingerly back up to the cottage, reaching it at 14:15.

Autumn feeling

The lower fall

Downstream Sieberjåhkå

Further downstream Sieberjåhkå

One of the huts

From the hilltop: east...

...southwest...

...west...

...and northeast

I watched the approach of the rain closely, and when it drew near to the lake I took the still rather damp laundry inside and hung it in the closed room. I had afternoon tea and then took off the bandage, and the ankle felt surprisingly good. I rested with the radio until the rain came, and when it hit it hit hard almost at once. Not long thereafter a German couple arrived from Vaisaluokta; they had walked from Katterat to Ritsem and had some days to spare before their return voyage, and so had decided to do the short tour around Guvtjávrre.

Two Swedes from the other direction followed in short fashion, and speaking to them I learnt that they had had rain every day since leaving Kvikkjokk, and that they disliked forested valleys intensely. Now there was haze all around, and the rain increased further, but after dinner it shrank back to a drizzle. Some guest-talk was followed by reading and more football (and some popcorn), and eventually the rain ceased – and by the time I had gone to bed the moon was appearing.

Saturday 5/9

Dark Gisuris

The privy hill

Sun on the southbound trail

Stream glint

I stayed in bed listening to the radio until 07:30, by which time everyone else had already arisen. When the sun broke through the clouds later in the morning I went out on a photo round, pleased to find that my ankle felt rather good, but it was soon back to greyness. When the last guests had left I set about cleaning the eastern room, doing it calmly and thoroughly, and towards the end of it it started to rain. I did some crosswords and sudoku before lunch, and then completed the final few things in the eastern room, closing it down properly. Then I turned to my own room, looking over my provisions and personal belongings.

It continued to rain on and off, and the clouds were ever low, so I passed the time by reading and playing solitaire until the need for afternoon tea arose. The same was true afterwards, and it was not until it was nearly time for dinner that a true improvement could be seen. In the evening the clouds slowly lessened, and Áhkká began to emerge. I went through some inventory lists again and then listened to another football game with some popcorn, which ended with an incredible goal in the very last second. The only living things I had seen all day were reindeer passing close by, which underlined that this was one of the last days of the season.

It rains!

Clouds crawling over Gisuris

Dense forest

Still low

Swan rain

Cloud over a sunlit...

...Sjnjuvtjudis

Reindeer on the run

Sunday 6/9

The following morning I got up at 06:00 and was treated to a glorius dawn; the sky was halfway clear, but around the eastern massifs lower clouds lingered. After relaxing some more I went to empty the earth cellar and took down the various season-specific notices inside, and by the time I sat down for breakfast all the peaks were out. I then started cleaning the western room, making no haste, and outside some clouds that had pulled in earlier were splitting apart again. I also cleaned the woodshed and took out the remaining recycling stuff, after which I turned to the privy.

It was now very comfortable outside, but more clouds had appeared. I finished up in the western room and then had lunch out on the porch, consuming the last of the fresh bread. I then started packing up just as a shower was approaching from the south, putting some stuff in a box I was to leave for snowmobile transport later on, and swept the floor of the warden's room. After having afternoon tea I took it easy reading, and all the while outside conditions were of the unstable kind. While I was sorting through some remaining foodstuffs I happened to glance out the window and saw two people coming down the trail from Vaisaluokta.

These were two Norwegian ladies who were doing the Ritsem–Sulitjelma tour; at first they had intended to do it the other way around, but upon finding out that the boat across Áhkájávrre was to cease operation long before they would arrive they had reversed their plans. Since I had already cleaned everything and exchanged a number of items in preparation for the closure, and more importantly would turn off the gas in the morning, I outlined the situation and the restrictions thereof, all of which they were fully OK with. Otherwise receiving unexpected guests the very last night can be troublesome for a warden, especially if he has to catch the very last boat the next day...

Áhkká among the clouds

The clouds around Áhkká

Nearby rise

Privy and cottage

Light on trees...

...now showing clear signs...

...of autumn

After completing the task at hand I carried my parcel out to storage, during which another shower started, and more rain in the Swan valley gave rise to a rainbow. I had my final dinner and dessert, and then started writing a letter to the winter warden. A long talk with the Norwegians followed, and I gave them some advice about the latter stages of their planned route as I possessed recent knowledge. Then it was time to do the economic report, which proceeded calmly to a successful conclusion. I made some more entries on various papers and packed a few remaining items, and now there were less clouds again, so all the peaks could be seen in the gloom. Upon Guvtjávrre there was an enchanting reflection of moonlight, and it was dead calm when I entered bed one final time after 22.