Kebnekaise, and the roof of Sweden

Our trip to Kebnekaise, the top of Sweden, reminded me just how uplifting a day in the mountains can be. Kebnekaise may not be one of the highest, or most difficult mountains I've climbed, but this was definitely a trip to treasure.

Don't get me wrong, this trip wasn't quite the easy walk I was expecting. We had cold, difficult conditions and there were many challenges along the way. But maybe that's where the magic comes from. It's a special feeling knowing you've meet all the challenges the mountain decided to throw at you.

Our trip began by boarding a plane and flying 1500km north to above the polar circle. It was an exciting was to start to the trip. Amusing also, as my heavy jacket, mountaineering boots and hand luggage in two plastic bags attracted plenty of stares from the ordinary Friday night commuters.

We reached Kiruna in the dark, jumped in a taxi, brought some fuel and then drove 70km to the start of the track. I felt really exciting about finally being here in the far North of Sweden. At the same time I also had a sinking feeling that the fuel we had brought was not actually white spirits even though the the bottle had said good for all "spirit köks". The next morning, we found out that I was right.

You could say it was a ominous start to the trip. Here we were at the end of the road, with no car, no one in sight and the wrong fuel. Four days of freezing temperatures and cold dinners didn't appeal, so as Greig patiently tried to convice the cooker to burn the stuff, I went off to find some petrol. Eventually I found a local family and after some persuation in Swedish that I really did want normal petrol, they gave me some. First problem solved.

So it was midday by the time we started our slog up the valley heading for the Kebnekaise Mountain Station. In summer this place is swarming with tourists eating reindeer burgars and the enjoying the luxuries of the huge mountain station with electric lights, drying rooms and a sauna. In October, however, it's completely deserted, and that suited us well.

We found a good spot for our tent and quickly cooked dinner before the rain settled in. In the morning the rain and snow had stopped so we crawled out of our tent, threw some supplies in our pack, and headed for the top.

Right from the start, things were more difficult than we had expected. The route was poorly marked and almost impossible to follow with snow on the ground. Also the clear weather didn't stay and before long we were in the middle of a white out.

The new snow had also created terrible walking conditions. There was too much snow to see where the boulders were, but the snow was so fluffy that we sliped on the rocks with nearly every step. To make matters worse we were confused by a false sighting and the map stopped matching up with the terrain.

Lost in the cloud, stumbling up the mountain we both hit a low point. We felt like we'd never make with all this cloud. We felt like quiting but we keep on walking.

Eventually we reached the glacier and regained our bearings. But where to from here? At home finding our own route from here on seemed like a fun challenge. But it didn't seem so fun when we couldn't see the mountain we needed to climb. Fortunately, as we sat on the moraine wall the clouds cleared just enough to make out a route. Across the the glacier, up a spur, traverse right and then up the gut. We couldn't quite see the top of the route, but maybe it would be okay.

We roped up and headed across the glacier, and then up the spur. As I climbed up the spur my hopes started to fade. The traverse itself looked scarey enough with all the new snow, but getting to it was going to require some serious climbing. Then at the last moment I spied a fixed wire protecting the traverse. My despair lifted instantly. We were going to be able to climb after all!

The minutes that followed were awesome. It's was a real joy to be on such an exposed face in the mountains without the worries of dodgy protection that normally accompany such terrain.

But the joy was short lived. The wire stopped after only 30m and once more we were alone on the mountain. It felt like the mountain was playing with us by getting our hopes up only to destroy them again.

After a bit of exploring, and a few worring moments carefully steeping on the loose snow and rock we finally managed to find where the wire started again. Again we had exhilarating climbing. Now we were climbing up the steep gut. Despite the wire we still had to be careful as a slip would still result in a serious fall.

By the time we topped out to the ridge it was snowing quite heavily. We saw the hut and made a beline for it. We both knew we needed food, so when Greig suggested that maybe we should stay the night and finish the route tomorrow it seemed like a good idea. Luck was shining on us again as inside there were blankets and we had brought our stove with us. As we ate dinner we talked about making the summit before dark, but outside the snow just got heavier and heavier.

That night we lay on the wooden bunk huddling together under the blankets to keep warm. We were comfortable enough until the middle of the night when Greig woke up with a burning pain in his eyes. The rest of the night he couldn't sleep and sometime in the early hours he was forced to remove his contacts. From then on he was half blind.

The next morning Greig's eyes were still burning and the cloud was thick round the hut. Despite Greig's desire only to go down, I managed to persuade him to follow me to the top.

Outside it was well below zero with a fresh wind. As we walked our pack straps froze solid and we started to turn white from the cloud freezing on us. However, as we climbed the cloud seemed to get thinner. After half an hour I could make out the sun and a little while later I thought I could see through to the sky. We didn't know it, but a little bit of mountain magic was begining. After days walking in cloudy, overcast, grey conditions the mountain had chosen to reward us.

It was like someone had suddenly turned the colour on.

First the sun shone through the cloud, enveloping everything in a soft red light. At this point I remember suddenly being of aware of how surface of the snow was covered in delicate snow ball bearings.

We climbed still higher, above the last of the cloud and were greeted by the golden glow of the mountain landscape bathed in the morning sun. Behind the sky was a brillant blue. Ahead of us each pile of stones covered in snow seemed like a work of art.

A little further on lay the small but nevertheless perfect peak of Kebnekaise, covered in fresh snow. It was then I knew, for sure this time, that we were going to make it. Suddenly it felt like the mountain had put the obstacles in front of us in order that we would summit at the perfect time.

We climbed up to the peak together, enjoying making the first tracks in the new snow. We were above the cloud now and it felt like the top of the world. On the top, we I took heaps of photos and I described to Greig just how beautiful it all looked.

We felt a strong sense of accomplishment. We had experienced so many problems but by keeping on walking, even when it was slippery and cloudy and seemed impossible, we had made it in the end. In the mountains, as in life, sometimes all you need is to keep moving upwards in order to reach the sun!

Two days I turned up for work smelly and tired from my 6am flight back to Stockholm. I was still smiling. Infact, I'm still smiling now days later. The mountains had worked their magic once again.

In search of Heavy Water

Last week Greig, Mike and I headed to Rjuken, Norway to do some ice climbing. It was great to get out of Stockholm and a real joy to switch off my mobile phone for the week.

As you cross the border from Sweden into Norway you actually experience quite a change. The mountains become steeper, and the roads become windy. Norway is a little like New Zealand, well except for the trees. The Nordic pine trees just aren’t the same thing as the lush green podocarp forests of home. But the Norwegian’s have tried to make us feel right at home thought by naming their main supermarket chain “Kiwi”.

In any case, it was great to be back in the mountains, and but also a little intimidating. It’s a long time since I’ve put my crampons on or even been on rock climbing so it took me several days to really feel comfortable with the equipment. My recent experience of head butting a tree had also hit my confidence pretty hard.

Rjukan is an amazing place to go ice climbing and when you first get there you just can’t take your eyes off the huge waterfalls that line the high valley sides. What is even better, is that the English guide book “Heavy Water” makes it really easy to find the climbs. You have the option of going ice cragging and challenge yourself on top rope, or you can try one of the long, 10 or more pitches, routes that that line the main valley.

I had climbed alpine ice, and glacier ice before but waterfall ice is quite different. For a start it tends to be blue or yellow and not white. Initially, I found it quite terrifying, because I couldn’t read the ice. What looked like solid ice would shatter when I struck it with the pick, while some of the fragile looking stuff was deceptively strong.

We climbed through the gloomy, snowy weather for four days and it was exhausting. Ice climbing is really strenuous on the arms and hand and calf muscles and I got pretty tired. I always had a sense of relief to make the top of a waterfalls, some of which were more than 30 meter high. By the top of the climbs, my arms where often so tired that I had trouble getting my tools to strike the ice straight.

Finally on the last day the sun broke through so Greig and I decided to bag the nearby peak. Mt Gaustatoppen, is remarkable because from the top on a clear day you can see 20% of Norway and all the way to Sweden.

Despite all the snow that had fallen, it was a pleasant trip and the mountain was even icy in places. (Greig was so sure that it would be soft snow the whole way he wasn’t even going to bring an ice axe along, so this was a nice surprise.)

We stopped for lunch just below the top, next to the incredibly ugly building, which actually a military elevator that was used during the cold war! It takes you all the way from the valley floor some 1600 meters below, and is now being tested as a winter attraction for rich skiers.



From the saddle we walked along the sharp ridge in nearly white out conditions. The snow sculptures on the boulders made it seem like a magic garden up there. At the top we were lucky as the cloud cleared for a while and we got to look over the town below, but unfortunately not all the way to Sweden.

On the descent we enjoyed a good bum slide but we had to stop several times because our feet sprayed up a fine mist snow which completely blocked our view. The Scandinavian snow, is much drier compared to the stuff at home, so this was a new experience.

What made Rjukan really stand out from similar experiences was the sense of history in the place. On the first night I read what had happened during the war, and I was completely intrigued. This was the first climbing trip I have ever been on where I actually wanted to visit the local museum instead of going climbing!

During the second world war, Norway was controlled by Nazi Germany and the heavy water (D2O) factory at Rjukan became a strategic target for the Allies. They were desperate to stop the heavy water production which could be used to make a nuclear bomb. So a team of hard-core Norwegian commandos went into the area in October 1942.

Unfortunately things didn’t go according to plan and the commandos ended up enduring the entire winter in the mountains, subsisting on lichen, moss and reindeer. Eventually, with the help of some more troops, they succeeded in their mission of damaging the factory, and all ten involved escaped on skis. Some of them skied 400km to safety in Sweden.

These feats of human endurance seem amazing at the best of times, but when you are freezing after a day outside ice climbing, they honestly seem unbelievable. I think these men, must have endured a great deal more suffering than modern ice climbers could endure!