It was late September when I boarded the train from Stockholm to Kiruna in Swedish Lapland. Not quite Christmas, although the tinsel and crackers filling the shelves of the London department stores were trying to convince me otherwise, but I was conscious of the fact that I was moving into the alleged homeland of Father Christmas. I wasn't looking for him however, having cruelly learnt the truth behind the myth at an early age. I was rather hoping to catch sight of some of the other big beasts that still roamed this Arctic outpost of Europe.
Waking early on the overnight train to a frosty scene of spruce trees stretching hundreds of miles in all directions I could see how this was quite a plausible habitat for the bears, wolverines, lynx and elk (two metres at the shoulder, almost as high as the stunted trees, surely I couldn't miss them) which were purported to be hiding out there.
I was soon to discover, however, that this vast primeval forest was so staggeringly immense that I probably had as much chance of spotting an elk in there as I did of seeing Father Christmas and Blitzen sitting down to packed lunch by the river.
Even in September the mercury begins to freefall. The day I arrived was quite a balmy day in Kiruna, all of 2ºC. The first flurries of snow had arrived from the north and the distant mountains were pure white. Kiruna is an unusual town. It wouldn't be here, stuck out in the inhospitable and untouched arctic wilderness if it wasn't for the discovery of a vast underground seam of iron ore. Before I left for the forests I was given a personal tour of the mine that has been here for over 100 years and can now claim to be the world's largest underground mine with over 400km of tunnels (that's the same distance as London to Sunderland as my guide proudly pointed out. I think he had once been to Sunderland) and also reaches over 1500 metres below the surface. It was quite a claustrophobic experience and I was quite relieved to get out into the open again.
Walking into the forest in Muddus National Park you soon begin to feel quite extraordinarily tiny. The trees engulf you wherever you go. It almost had the same claustrophobic qualities as the mine. In England you drive to a forest to take the dog for a walk. Here in Sweden it wouldn't surprise me if people drove to small clearings to walk their dog. My search for elk was fruitless but I did see some reindeer. The indigenous people of northern Sweden, the Lapps, or Sami as they are known here, still maintain huge herds of semi-wild reindeer. In the past they practiced a nomadic lifestyle, sleeping out at night in wigwam-like goates. This rather romantic lifestyle has unfortunately been replaced with a hi-tech approach. Today the Sami herd their reindeer with the aid of CB radios, helicopters and hand-held GPS units. There is a good shop in Kiruna where you can buy various reindeer products while the most popular restaurant in Kiruna does a wonderful reindeer steak in wild loganberry sauce.
Hiring a car, although painfully expensive, is a good way of getting around. Distances are vast and the views while driving generally consist of endless forests of spruce and birch. However as you head towards the Norwegian border the trees thin out and the spectacular mountains take centre stage. Up here, north of the Arctic circle there is snow for over eight months of the year so there are plenty of glaciers still carving their way through the landscape.
The most famous national park in Sweden is Sarek. Conversely it is also one of the least visited thanks to the sheer scale of it and the utter lack of any footpaths, mountain huts and bridges. It has been deliberately kept this way in order to preserve it as the true wilderness that it is. It has, not unjustifiably, been labelled the Serengeti of Europe thanks to the apparent wealth of aforementioned beasts that reside there. I, of course, didn't see so much as a weasel.
From the town of Jokkmokk I drove towards the park down a 100km dead end road. This got me within a two day walk of the national park boundary; as close as you can get with wheels. A walk up a small hill at the end of the road gave me a tremendous view of this mountainous area. The forests swept up to steep mountainsides, glaciers sliding down from the sharp peaks and arêtes. Sarek is an example of what a National Park really should be. It makes the English Lake District look like a Butlins theme park.
Sarek is probably best viewed from a distance but if you want to explore the mountains up close you should head for Nikkaloukta, a two hour drive from Kiruna. Here it is a day's walk along a good path through a beautiful forested (of course) valley to a large mountain hut or fjallstation. From here you can climb Kebnekaise, at 2,111 metres, Sweden's highest peak. In September it is quite an expedition but during June and July when the sun never leaves the sky the summit can be reached with relative ease.
There are many places in Europe which label themselves 'Europe's Last Wilderness' but Lapland wins the title hands down. The sheer enormity of this unspoilt area leaves you feeling truly in the wild and as you admire the extensive forest and mountain landscape you know that little, if anything, has changed since the Scandinavian ice sheet receded some 10,000 years ago. The elk may be a little elusive but you will have more chance of seeing them than you will Santa Claus.
I'd recommend: the Swedish Survey map to Norra Norrland a good map for driving and the Swedish Survey Fjallkarta map series for walking in the mountains.
The best guides for Sweden are: The Rough Guide to Sweden and The Lonely Planet Guide to Sweden.
Author: Jim Manthorpe
Date: 1 December 2002
Add a comment