The Long Haul – Part 3

I found a campsite on the outskirts of Kautokeino, and took a day to explore around town. Having a day to myself seemed like a complete luxury: no need to tear down camp, no need to ski and constantly keep moving, and (after finding a tap) no need to melt snow. I could just enjoy exploring a new place, go for a leisurely walk, take in the sights.

Moving without a pulk after a week and a half was also bizarre. It felt like gravity had just been turned down, walking was effortless and light. In my time in town, I also spent some time learning about the locals.

Kautokeino is Sámi territory. For those that don’t know, the Sámi people are effectively the European equivalent of the Inuit. The Sámi have inhabited the north of Scandinavia and Russia for tens of thousands of years. And living in an environment like Arctic Norway is no easy feat: temperatures below -50°C are not unheard of. But the Sámi have adapted and learned how to survive here.

It was interesting to learn more about the Sámi: their skill as reindeer herders and hunters, as well as their vibrant traditional dress, language and culture. But it’s not all a happy story: similar to the native Americans, over the last few hundred years geo-politics have crept in, empires claiming what was once Sámi territory. Borders were formed, conflicts followed, and nomadic ways of life and Sámi culture were hampered. But Kautokeino and Karasjok in particular – are still very much Sámi strongholds.

And on the topic of the locals, it’s worth mentioning the people this far North are among some of the friendliest, most welcoming people I’ve ever met. Some just curious to hear the story of a lone skier, but also many offers of places to stay, food, drink, sauna… As a matter of course, I tried to avoid making myself too comfortable: it felt like cheating to hop from sauna to sauna on what was a trial expedition.

Leg 2 – Kautokeino to Karasjok

After a day’s rest, feeling refreshed, I started to ski along the Alta river, meandering my way Northwards. The snow had improved a lot, now a solid crust of ice, which let the skis and pulk glide blissfully along at a good pace. The sun was beaming down again, the trip had beome more enjoyable for a day’s rest. I wanted to try to keep it that way, even if it meant moving slower, taking rest days, or changing the plan slightly.

This section of the trip was to ski from Kautokeino to Karasjok, the Sámi capital. Leaving the Alta river, I’d follow dog sled tracks to the village of Máze, and then head East across the Finnmarksvidda plateau, past the largest lake in Finnmark, lake Iešjávri.

I reached Máze in good time, two days spent in the quiet of the forests and hills to the West. It was a peaceful section, the only people I saw in those days were a father and daughter out on a snowscooter ride, looking for foxes.

After a quick bit of equipment repair in the Máze church carpark, I was ready to make my way up to Finnmarksvidda. The climb was hard work, having to regain a few hundred metres of elevation I’d lost descending into the village. But I was now used to steep climbs, and before long the forest and valley gave way to the vast Finnmarksvidda plateau.

After days weaving along rivers, through barren birch forests and valleys, the sheer scale and openness of the area was astounding. Blanketed in snow, the plateau seemed endless, no distinctive features, as everything blended into each other. It has its own austere beauty, a vast barren area, like a desert. And the wind didn’t disappoint either: being so open, Finnmarksvidda is almost constantly rocked by gales. Sheltering the tent behind a boulder on the first night, the flysheet still complained noisily all through the night.

For the first few days on Finnmarksvidda, I was truly alone. The one and only sign of humanity I saw was a sole kite flying on the horizon: a kite skier, using the terrain and weather to its full advantage. It was very peaceful, and a humbling environment. But eventually, the rain came back to hamper my progress and dampen the mood: another day trudging through heavy wet snow, off track. Hard work, and tiring, but spirits were much higher than the previous week.

I weaved back towards a snowscooter track to offset the effects of the rain, the snow having once again become wet and heavy. The magic of the wilderness was again sadly interrupted by the roars of snowmobiles. But things were moving faster now: I was easily exceeding my target of 22km per day, and it would cost me much less energy. I also had more free time in the evenings, and I could afford to stop to enjoy the scenery as I skied.

At this stage I had christened my pulk “Wilson” (a reference to the movie Castaway). Besides offering some amusement (and one-sided conversation), it proved to be a love/hate relationship. He was my enemy on the uphills; pulling and pushing on the downhills; and rolling over or wrapping himself around a tree at every opportunity. But it is incredible how efficient it is to carry such a big cargo in this way: there is zero chance I could have carried 75kg for even a fraction of the trip. And the pulk became easier to manage as the load decreased: I’d consumed 15kg of supplies by the time I’d reached Kautokeino, and another 10kg as I closed in on Karasjok.

And the final downhill to Karasjok came around much sooner than I’d expected. This section of trail was fast, icy and steep: a pretty hair-raising descent. Braking is limited on fjellski and, with the pulk pushing in tandem, I had literally no way of stopping. Hitting speeds of over 40km/h, and barely managing to weave through the trees, I could do nothing except hope Wilson wouldn’t choose to hit a tree at this moment, and that there would be no obstacles sitting on the path.

And it turns out there was very nearly an obstacle on the path. An obstacle I definitely wouldn’t want to hit. An obstacle that would be very angry if you hit it.

“Bear!”

The rider of the snowmobile finally switched to English. A moment of surprise, disbelief, and then shock.

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