Sunday 1/1

There were stronger winds during the rest of the night, something I got to experience when I had to answer a natural call. From then it kept undulating in strength, but I slept through most of it. I awoke at 07:45 and stayed in bed for a while, listening to an even stronger wind howling in the chimney. There were some people in the kitchen when I entered, some of them discussing whether or not the weather would be a hindrance. The wind was decreasing, however, and as the light grew visibility improved as well, revealing Smällhögarna – but from time to time gales of snow made everything white. Martin was just about to leave on snowshoes, and some of the other guests were also readying for departure. At 09:45 I left myself, just as another gale hit.

Visibility was bad as a consequence, and at worst I could see no more than three trail markers ahead. I judged that the peak wind strength was about 12 m/s or so, but it soon started to shrink back slowly. The snow was polished hard, and I allowed myself to be carried forward by the wind for a bit, but then I had to zigzag my way through areas of thin snow. Things were slowly getting better, and soon I could remove the hood. At Kroktjärnarna I spotted Martin some distance ahead, and I caught up with him just where I had paused for lunch the day before. After a brief exchange of words I pressed on ahead, and now the wind was back in force, coming more from the side than it had before. It was rather bad as I munched on some chocolate close to the trail split, so it felt good to be able to glide down into the shelter of the forest.

Not much to go on

A mountainside over there

Vålåvalen in view

Lighter

Drift

Final bit

The first slope rendered quite a bit of speed upon me, and on the following open patch the wind still reigned. It had started to snow again as well, and much of the tracks – well utilized as they had been – were covered. At the point where the ski trail goes off on its own I paused and looked around, not at all wanting to repeat the snow-wading experience from two years past. There was appreciably less snow this time around, and traces of ski tracks could be seen, but with all the recent drift I might still have been in for some heavy going. In the end I decided to stick with the snowmobile track, which had its own fair share of snow drifts upon it. I was subjected to some more wind on the following mires, but when the forest grew denser I felt it was time to change into the thinner cap. When I entered a region of hills I found myself a bent tree halfway up a slope against which I could sit down for lunch after 11:45.

Going down...

...to the forest...

...and the mires

This spot was mostly sheltered from the wind, but I could do little to keep the snow from falling. Soon after sitting down I heard a sound that could have been that of approaching ski poles, but then it disappeared and nothing or no one showed up along the trail either. Back on track I set off at a good tempo so as to get warm quickly. I soon found myself at the bridge over Stensån, and since all the visible tracks – from skis and snowmobiles alike – went over said bridge I did so as well, even though the stream looked solid enough. On the other side conditions were very good for skiing, and with my (now) light rucksack I made good progress comfortably; the snowfall was petering out, too.

When I reached the Stensdalen trail again I switched to the ski trail, which was very well indented. I was now starting to get warm, so when I caught up with a trio of older people at Buråstjärn I took the opportunity to stop and cool off. They had celebrated New Year's at the Vålådalen fjeld station, and were just out on a day tour. They let me take the lead from there, but one of them passed me by as I stepped to the side to photograph on a mire. No snow was falling, and visibility was good – but still not to the west – and I made my way up to the station before 13:45, which was somewhat earlier than expected.

The Stensån bridge

Lill-Stensdalsfjället showing

Last mire

Back

The parking lot was filled with cars, the outer wall with skis, and the whole place with people. I went inside to relax a little, and then rearranged my pack for travel. I browsed the store and looked around the upper level, where the restaurant had just set up a cookie feast, and then sat down next to the fire and waited for the taxi-bus to arrive as people came and went; obviously Vålådalen has seen an upswing in holiday visitors lately.

Arrive it didn't – just like last time – so I had the receptionist call the taxi company to confirm that there had been no miscommunication – this particular ride has to be booked in advance to show up. There hadn't been, but owing to the nature of the preceding night most of the drivers were legally required not to drive for some time still, so there was a shortage of available cars. One came rushing along the road in short fashion well before the point of no return with regard to the train in Undersåker, which marked the end of this my fourth New Year in the fjelds.