Finnmark - Boreal Lights

Bears on airport carousels are a good sign. Both the airports at Longyearbyen (Svalbard) and Whitehorse (Yukon) have stuffed Polar and Grizzly Bears respectively guarding the rotating suitcases. Here at Kirkenes this chap's much smaller as he’s a European brown. No less impressive though and whilst some might say a stuffed animal is a bit kitsch it's a clear statement that your arriving in a place where such animals roam.

I’ve arrived on the morning flight from Oslo, a two hour flight to Kirkenes in the very far north of Norway in the region of Finnmark. It’s been an ambition of mine for quite a few years to make it here. Finnmark is a little different from the rest of Lappland (in its broadest sense) as its dominated essentially by it’s huge plateau, the Finnmarksvidda. Gone are the dizzying spires of mountains that characterise the country’s western ranges, here this province is marked mainly by by its undulating mountain plateau which is studded by sparse birch forests and countless lakes. It’s a big place too, Finnmarksvidda covers close to 48, 000 square kilometres of 15 per cent of Norway’s land area. Save a couple of towns and a number of villages it’s a pure wilderness. You’ll not feel the weight of visitors that other popular mountain regions might have. This is a place for those that value solitude.

This though is a region with a rich history and place in the Nordic narrative. Not always a place of peace unfortunately, its a crossroads of sorts and it occupies a place in wartime history. Another reason I’m here is its proximity to the Russian border and I’ve a part-time professional interest in this sort of place. A noticeable element by the baggage carousel is the number of young Norwegian soldiers picking up their Bergans and heading out to a waiting truck in the carpark. Kirkenes is again on a front line, not for the first time, between ‘east’ and ‘west’. *

* indeed when I was in Finnmark the major Russian exercise Zapad '17 was ongoing which simulated an attack on Svalbard and a denial of electronic capability in Finnmark. The Royal Norwegian Airforce were forced to move fighter planes to bases in Finnmark.

But look at this place and the neigbouring Russian lands through another lens and you can see that there is a singularity too and a sense of a broader region. The Kola Penisula is home to Russia's Samis and with Finnmark and the provinces to the south this is Sapmi of course and a significant part of it too. It's part of the Barents Region as well, a post Cold War concept of a region of co-operation between Russia, Norway, Sweden and Finland which is a legacy to a less fractious time.

I'm to have a sense of all these competing narratives concerning Finnmark over the course of the ten days. My appreciation properly starts with an unplanned extended stay in Kirkenes which extends to two nights instead of the anticipated one.

My walk plan is a start from Karasjok and a steady journey north to Alta with a significant detour to the Norwegian National Park of Stabbursdalen. Karasjok lies a four hour bus journey from Kirkenes. I'd been in email contact with the bus company who had informed me that the bus would leave at 1500hrs on the day of my arrival. This, I assumed, gave me enough time to get into town and importantly to buy gas before heading on the bus to the Sami town of Karasjok and a night there before hitting the trail the following morning.

Kirkenes certainly proves a good place to buy the last minute essentials and has several excellent options for outdoor supplies. What is less good is the failure of the bus to turn up when I expected it. I contacted the bus company as I stood forlornly by the bus stop and was told that the bus only ran twice a week and that I would have to wait until tomorrow.

In some ways this proves to be a blessing. The weather is wet and nasty and I would have had a rough first day on the trail consequently. An extra night in Kirkenes gives me an opportunity to visit the excellent museum before eventually getting the bus the following afternoon.

The bus journey itself is an interesting experience. One of my fellow passengers is a Russian from Murmansk who is travelling to his work at a fish processing factory in Norway. I have a good conversation with him as his English is excellent. He's worried about the significant portion of the journey to Karasjok which takes us through Finland. He's loaded up with Russian booze and doesn't fancy a hefty customs charge if we are pulled up at the border post.

Despite the bus journey lasting four hours I enjoy the scenery. I get a real sense of the wilderness up here as the hours tick by. The extent of lake and boreal forest is delicious and sets me to dream about future trips. This is a place of real possibility and I've a notion for an extended trip up here one day which would see me through northern Finland and completing at Karasjok.

It's autumn of course and we pass through endless golden birch forests. Darkness falls at around 1900 and I arrive at Karasjok at dusk and walk through the drizzle to the comfort of my hotel. Next morning though dawns dry and it's clear that the grim weather of the last forty eight hours has passed. Its time to begin.

The first part of my walk is essentially following the majority of an old postal road across the plateau to Alta and once again I've inspiration from Connie Roos' book 'Walking in Norway'.

This quiet little guide book has proved an invaluable reference to the mountains of Norway over the years. I learnt with some sadness that she had died in a freak storm in Corsica, I guess her legacy though is one of the only guidebooks in English to the Norwegian fells.

Perhaps fittingly you'll find this walk at the very end of the book, the sole bimble in a section entitled 'the Far North'. Reading it gave me the sense that this was an easy going venture and this is what's drawn me here. but stick solely to that and perhaps you'll miss something. My plan equally for this one is a venture into Stabbursdalen NP

And so on a brightening Saturday morning I set off from the Scandic Hotel in Karasjok and pick up the pace along 10km of highway to Assebakti from where I'll begin to head up onto the plateau itself.

It's always strange the first few hours of a walk. The pack, full to the gunnels with 8 days food, is obviously at it's heaviest. I've had a very extended journey to get to my start point and it's taken from Wednesday afternoon to Saturday morning before this point. I feel a staleness that I want to shake off as I begin a highway trudge west. But the colours are glorious and I'm heading out in a relaxed mood. It's September, perhaps the best month to be out in the Scandinavian wilds. The heat and humidity of summer have gone, with that the many mosquitos that plagued me only five weeks ago in Lapland. I am a little regretful at leaving Karasjok. Another day here and I would have had an opportunity to look around the Sami Cultural Centre and the Parliament too. A small workshop making Sami knives would have tempted me considerably.

By five pm I've broken through the birch forest that guards the flanks of the plateau and picked up the crude track of the old postal road. Once that initial battle was fought then the walking promises to be relatively easy. That promise is essentially kept over the next few days as I follow it in a north-westerly direction until breaking into Stabbursdalen and more challenging terrain.

But that's not to say that there isn't difficulty on those initial days. Whilst the plateau is essentially flat and dry at times there's the usual sub-arctic mire. Additionally, there is little infrastructure here and river crossings throw up some interesting moments.

The first days pass incredibly quickly. The weather is static almost, grey but dry and essentially mild. I sleep the sleep of the dead for the first three nights too. The ground is flat and welcoming pitches are abundant as I cross the mainly flat plateau. From the outset though I can see Stabbursdalen to the north with its relatively high fells. They're no giants but perspective lends them a grandeur and as I follow the old postal road I feel a sense of anticipation building as I pull closer.

If you wanted some form of accommodation on the old postal route then the first days offer two options. Old farms at Ravna and Mollisjok have state owned huts. If the weather had been foul those first couple of nights could have been spent indoors. But instead in this benign weather I enjoy a number of pleasing pitches as I roll up the distance over the course of the days. As Roos promises this is an easy going walk.

Reaching the old farm at Mollisjok has some significance. The hut warden there is the last person I'm to see for five glorious days and I break out on my route around the huge lake of Les'javri. This quasi inland sea takes almost two and a half days to reach it's northern shore from Mollis. I notice too that the path at Mollis splits though I follow my intended route. Whilst the old postal route is marked in the direction of Joatka the E1 follows the eastern shore of the lake, I muse that the last time I was on the E1 in Norway was at it's very southern end in Femund. That is an incredible 2000km away and I wonder about the prospect of following it one day. But the walking is good for the here and now though this trail could have served me. Perhaps if I'd wanted a longer period in Stabbursdalen this would have got me there a little quicker.

In any event I enjoy my remaining time on the old postal route. There's something about the relative ease and tranquillity of this walk. I fall into a comfortable rhythm, up at 8 and away by 0930 with a 5 pm finish. A break for lunch and just steady in between.

The slight fly in the ointment is a deformed Thermarest Xtherm. This starts to develop a bulge on about night three which by the last night renders it effectively useless. Fortunately I'm an old timer and bought with me a closed cell foam mat which is strapped to the outside of my pack. That and a foil blanket give me enough insulation but I certainly don't sleep as soundly towards the end of my trip as I did at the beginning. I have moments when I awake at night as I hit a cold spot. To say I'm unimpressed with Thermarest's £150 mat is an understatement. We shall see what they say.

As the miles roll by the pack weight decreases. So many years backpacking but I still struggle to get the right amount of food. This time I get it about right and I certainly have enough to eat this trip without carrying too much equally. In August I was on the cusp of not enough food as was feeling depleted when I reached Narvik. Here though the balance is right and it adds to the sense of equilibrium that characterises this venture.

Stabbursdalen draws near as I round lesjavri and it's hard not to feel the anticipation build as I edge towards these most northern of fells. With their adornment of fresh snow there's a sense of adventure.

The ground too becomes more noticeably broken and I start to work harder. Gone is the ease in parts, I start to fight the terrain again.

There's a shift in the weather too on my fifth night. The wind blows harder and colder. A few nights too there's a smattering of rain across the fly sheet.

The boundary of Stabbursdalen is crossed and I enter true fell terrain. The landscape though at times is like nothing I've seen before and I am thrilled that I've spent so much time walking in Scandinavia and yet there is something constantly new.

A mix of bush, trees and watercourses as I climb higher into the fells of this national park. I begin to regret too the passing of time and I wish that I had longer to explore every intimate part of this place.

There are 'bua' or bothies here too and gaze wistfully at the map. I'll be back here one day I reckon. Perhaps a start from Lakselv in the east would give me the opportunity to see much more.

I've moved now from the 400m line of the plateau to a high fell terrain at around 1200m. The ground feels noticeably different and resolutely montane. The weather harshens too and the cold wind bites.

My most challenging pitch of the trip is at a 1000m tarn. Tired and cold I summon up enough energy to fasten the Drift 2 in a strong wind. I weigh the pegs down in the loose ground with boulders. Satisfied I seek shelter inside and get as comfortable as I can.

Probably the toughest night of the trip this one, the wind rocks the tent but the Drift2 holds well. It's cold and raw outside.

The xtherm has pretty much had it. I manage ok on a basic CCF mat and the foil blanket. I can't quite shake my annoyance that such a key and expensive piece of kit has failed.

Next day though and the foul weather has passed. I descend from the fells towards Stabburselva itself, the great river that cuts through Stabbursdalen. I've been looking forward to this bit and anticipate a night camped in the shelter of birch forest and a fire to boot.

It's a memorable day for sure. I pass through a Sami reindeer pasture and notice it's busy with quad bikes moving back and forth. They're driving the beasts off the fells and I stop and have a fairly long conversation with a number of them. It's good to chat, the first conversation in many days.

The grayness of the last week begins to shift and the autumn colours really blaze. I work out a potential crossing place of Stabburselva from a vantage point and a potential camp for the night. As I do I see movement in the woods below and an animal break cover. It's a huge bull elk and its quite a sight to see him cover open ground below.

Having crossed the river I select a pitch on a high bank at a very reasonable point in the mid afternoon. This gives me time for the gathering of wood and as darkness falls a sweet smelling birch fire begins to burn.

And as darkness passes and night takes hold, just as I hope, there are green pulses of light in the clear night sky. The Northern Lights ripple and I have no doubt at that moment as to why I come to places like this. It is a memorable moment, I am very much in the present and content. It is hard not to hold a sense of awe watching them in this place and by the warmth of a fire.

Next morning dawns gray again. Like the morning after the night before.

I pack up and head west. The goal is an exit out of the wilderness and some way into Alta. This takes a day and a half to achieve and it's through decent terrain.

My penultimate night is pleasant enough and the lights play again. I miss the warmth of my fire though

It's late September but surprisingly the dawn comes bright and indeed fairly hot. The condensation burns off quickly and I'm shading layers as I pack up. My descent is interesting off the high ground and down to sea level is interesting. I've identified a canyon which provides plenty of rough and tumble as I struggle over talus and through forest.

But the weather is astonishing and I regret that I'm walking out. Hot, bright and clear as the day deepens. I worry about the difficulty of my chosen route but by about 1500 I've picked up a decent path which put me right out onto a highway. By 1600 I'm in the outskirts of Alta and I've picked up a local bus which puts me right outside my hotel.

As I travel home I reflect upon this trip. It's certainly been a satisfying one and I can see myself returning back up to Finnmark. Stabbursdalen itself requires more exploration and it has many delights. It's all thrown up a lot of potential future trips. In terms of Scandinavia I'll be back next March for sure (though possibly even January). Scotland will hold me over the next few months. Forward!

Source: http://oneswedishsummer.weebly.com/my-blog/finnmark-boreal-lights