Monday 30/7

Sometime during the night I was awoken by a powerful wind ripping at the tent, but it abated within minutes, and then it was mostly calm until morning came (and no further rain either). When I got up before 8 it was pretty fair, even though the clouds still refused to concede the skies fully – at the moment they had their minds set on covering Oalgásj, and more were drifting in from the east. The trio above me were breaking camp while I spread out some damp stuff from the previous day to dry in the changing wind (the tent had already dried, though), and then I had breakfast outside.

Now the creeping clouds were lifting, but I could see higher cloud banks closing in above and behind them, and the wind (which was now northeasterly again) was increasing. At first the sun shone in many a place, but as the second wave of clouds approached it was obscured, and another set of misty tendrils started concealing Sarvatjåhkkå. Just as the trio reached Snávvávágge I started packing up, picking up speed when it looked as though it might rain, but I only felt a few hardly noticeable droplets during the striking of the tent, and nothing more came of it.

Best view yet towards Rovdjurstorget

Reindeer still about...

...down by Ráhpaädno

Also clearer to the north

Meandering Ráhpaädno

A lone reindeer...

...passing the tent

I left after 10:15, choosing to wear the rain trousers so as to obtain protection from the humid osier thickets, through which the path was even muddier and wetter than before, not surprisingly. When the copses started thinning out I veered from the path, following an arc around the slope of Bielatjåhkkå, and almost immediately running into a group of reindeer. When I had come far enough to see the width of Bielavallda stretch out before me I changed out of the rain trousers as they were not needed, and it was quite warm anyway. Beyond the turquoise surface of Bierikjávrre, the second largest lake in Sarek, a few spots of sunlit land could be seen, but otherwise it was now overcast; the base of the cloud cover was generally high, but Sarvatjåhkkå was still hidden and the boldly shaped peak of Bierikbákte just pierced the ceiling.

Southeast of the old sacrificial ground marked on the map there were a couple of tents beside each other, but these were not the ones I had seen from Bielavárásj. In a not too insignificant wind I proceeded eastwards, maintaining my altitude in the gentle slope, utilizing reindeer paths wherever appropriate. The clouds were lifting somewhat, but there were no breaks in their blanket and inside Basstavágge they were much lower to boot. When I was closing on the tents a total of four people came out of them, and I could also see some moving figures far off on the western shore of Bierikjávrre – presumably these were my companions from the day before heading for Saltoluokta. I now started going downwards at an angle, quickly crossing the Basstavágge path and reaching Alep Basstajåhkå some time later.

I had entertained the idea of fording this stream in that area, where it forms a delta land before reaching Bierikjávrre, so that I could walk on the northern side of Basstavágge and not have to make the crossing at Alep Basstajiegŋa. Right where I was, however, this was out of the question, as water levels were rather high, and the current swift, so I set off downstream. I passed one of the arms easily, but the next one(s) proved too difficult regardless of where I looked – it was not only a matter of the force of moving water, but since this is another silt-carrying glacier stream it is impossible to see the bottom, and the nature of the nature all around makes the ground marshy and quicksand-like in places.

I tested the depth here and there with the walking stick, and usually there was at least one furrow in each arm where the water would reach above my knees. Eventually I found myself at one of the short water courses that connect Bielajávrátja with Bierikjávrre, which put a definite end to any further crossing attempts, so there was nothing more to do than double back. I followed the stream beyond the point where I first had made contact with it, walking on a very distinct reindeer path on its bank to a small tributary brook with clear (and decidedly icy!) water in it, where I paused for lunch around 12:30.

The brook which further down had provided me with water

More of upper Rapadalen

Panorama over Bielavallda

Bierikbákte and Nilas kam
(Nila's ridge)

Bielajávrátja (and the Piela cabin)

Skárjátjåhkkå et al

Closer to Bierikbákte

Turquoise Bierikjávrre

Alep Basstaskájdásj in the middle

Parts of Guohper, Sjielmátjåhkkå and Skárjátjåhkkå

Even closer to Bierikbákte

At Alep Basstajåhkå

The instantly recognizable shape of Guohper

Soabbevágge

The delta of Alep Basstajåhkå

Oalgásj across Bielavallda

Sarvatjåhkkå rising above Bierikjávrre

Panorama over the entrance to Basstavágge and Soabbevágge

When I was ready to get going again I started by going up the slope to the main path, which was clear enough. It now looked more threatening deep inside Basstavágge, and soon a wall of rain was advancing out of the valley. When the first touches of moisture reached me I performed a quick switch to rain clothes, completing the transformation just in time. At first the falling water was fairly warm, and a weak sun made it seem as though it were just a gentle shower on a fair day, but that illusion of course shattered before long and the rain took on a more familiar character. The closer I got to the glacier stream from Soabbevágge the fainter the path became, and having reached the gurgling water I was thoroughly unsurprised to find a complete lack of suitable fords.

I started walking upstream, and directly opposite to the place where another stream from a niche up on Bielatjåhkkå comes down in a large number of gracile falls I discovered a short section where the glacier stream spread out over a rock field, and my mental fording engine kicked in. After a good deal of advance scouting and planning I embarked upon the crossing, and a rather convoluted itinerary combined with some hops and strides saw me safely on the other side, boots on and all. I suppose that there would have been more possible locations further up Soabbevágge, but making a safe crossing at any point downstream was definitely out of the question.

After this Alep Basstajåhkå flowed in one course only, but a mighty one at that, and close to it I found the path again, which however was fragmentary at best. I saw a red tent on the other side of the impassable stream, and just then I also spotted a pair of hikers approaching on that same side, but they passed the tent by without slowing so it obviously wan't theirs. By then the rain had petered out, but another batch was already on its way.

I passed a bend which although it was gentle conspired with the shape of the terrain to hide most of the northern view, but I was instead greeted by a very attractive grass field on which a number of boulders were strewn about. Just at the start of this field was a perfect camping spot, and a small freshwater brook ran just beside it – I was severely tempted to stop right then and there, but I thought that I could at least walk to the next little bend a few hundred meters away and see what lay beyond it first. What I saw there was, however, not in any way inspiring (rocks, rocks, and more rocks), so I decided to stay on The Field.

Just then the rain intensified considerably, and I jogged to one of the boulders where I sat down under its protection. The rain changed back and forth in force, but it showed no unequivocal signs of relenting in full, and at one point I changed to another, larger boulder with a protuberance. At long last the rain shrank back, and then came to a sudden stop. I was now hesitating between the patch I had first seen and another pretty much equivalent one in the vicinity, but ultimately my decision fell on the latter, mostly due to its slightly greater distance to the roar of Alep Basstajåhkå. It was after 14:45 when I pitched the tent in weak sunlight and a rather strong wind that had come into being, rushing out of the valley.

More reindeer...

...close by

Entering Basstavágge...

...and leaving Bierikjávrre behind

Passing Bierikbákte

Looking into Basstavágge

Rain behind...

...as well as ahead

The field where I camped

Nilas kam in the clear

The clouds were being ripped apart above and to the northwest, and visibility was excellent, also into the central part of the valley. A pair of hikers appeared on the path in the latter direction, and I went out to greet them – they turned out to be a Norwegian father-and-son couple who had come from Rinim that same day, and they hadn't had any trouble with the fords either. They were very experienced Sarek travellers, having traversed every major valley in the park before except Basstavágge, so this was a bit of a jubilee for them; this time they were planning on continuing through Álggavágge to Árasluokta and ultimately Sulitjelma beyond the national border. Tiny drops were finding their way down to us all the time, but they were of no consequence, and the other two chose to have a break a bit further downstream before pressing on towards Rapadalen.

When they had gone another lone fellow appeared on the other side of the stream, carrying but a shoulder bag and some reindeer antlers, so I presumed that he was the owner of the red tent. And speaking of reindeer, I do not believe that I need state the nature of their presence or absence in the area. Me, I went back inside my own tent and as even the minimal precipitation had now ceased I hung my shirt on the guylines to dry – some moisture had found its way into the top of the rucksack where it was lodged. I had an afternoon snack, having become somewhat hungry as I usually do when I'm not walking a full day, and after this a light shower came and went together with a bit of wind.

A seemingly unnatural sound then reached my ears, and when I looked out I found its origin to be a trio of guys passing by the tent, two of which turned around and waved hello. Although it was overcast again the view inwards was still good, and the clouds floated clear of the peaks around Skárjá. It was, however, getting a bit chilly, and soon some lower clouds appeared behind Basstavárásj; I took to solving crosswords, and in the midst of this activity yet another light rainfall commenced. When also this shower had passed I exited my mobile residence for food preparation purposes, and by then the lower peaks of Sarvatjåhkkå were visible. There was also a new blue patch growing out of the southeast, but as the wind subtracted further from the continuously dropping temperature I ate inside the tent.

Stationary

Bielatjåhkkå from the east

Pointy Mellantoppen
(Middle Peak)

Cloudy northwest

Surging Alep Basstajåhkå

The inescapable reindeer

Sarvatjåhkkå shedding cloud

Better view out of the valley

Another perspective on my campsite

Closeup of Skárjátjåhkkå

I spent the early evening with my crosswords and by poring over the map, but later on I went out for a little stroll. It was then clearing in most directions, although a fair number of clouds were floating past from the south, and the chill persisted; it was rather light all around and the wind was only light. After breathing the fresh air for a while I crawled back in and read in my book, observing the slow increase in the amount of sunrays that found their way down to my position. Eventually the setting sun descended into a dense bank and was irrevocably lost for the day, and in the opposite direction a peculiar light had come into being; I suspected that more rain was coming.

I had an evening snack, and when I was done the haze responsible for the aforementioned light phenomenon had come close enough to envelop Ähpár; the sky was also back to fully overcast. I had no more finished the evening chores, as it were, before the expected rain did come, and now it looked very bad towards Basstavárásj. I went to bed at 22 and continued reading, followed by a serenade of grunting reindeer in passing.