Vandring; to hike, take a walk on the wildside, spend time in the wilderness, far from any people; to walk, self sufficient for a period of time: a Swedish pastime that is as closely linked to their passion for nature. Which, besides from telling the world that Sweden is the centre of Europe, is a Swedes second biggest passion, to protect “their” nature from man (read: themselves).
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| Three men start |
Recently I found myself following in the footsteps of such a Swedes (literally), as we trudged (definition: the dejected walk of a man who has nothing left to lose) mellan 5 mil (definition: 2 million kilometres) across what seemed to be the unending Himalayan panorama (definition: Swedens “alps” in Jämtland) for about three months (definition, 4 days) No paths, no tracks, no people, no cabin, no clue….nothing. Just 5 people alone in the middle of the wilderness, surviving on whatever we could lug around on our backs, like domesticated yaks carrying supplies for a pilgrimage.*
Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love a good hike, as was the case in this experience, to be struck with a realisation that you are the only soul in a 50 km radius, no cell phone signal, no electricity, just you and whatever you are carrying; absolute self sufficiency. Standing atop a peak and reflecting on where you are and what you are doing does something to ones mind and soul. It certainly is a place to shake you to the core and make you connect with God in way you cannot imagine, not just muttering at some point “God I am so close to You in height now, please just scoop down and pluck me off this earth right here”. (To be honest, there were not many of those moments at all)
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| Kai in one of those "Close to God" moments |
The expedition party consisted of 5 members, and as the marching song went:
“On and on and on again;
Who the hell are we?
A Dane, a Swede, a Germ, a Saffa and a Bl**dy Kiwi”
The end of the hike had this in 5 different languages.
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| And the group is... |
Relying on ourselves for provisions, sleeping arrangements consisted of a mattress, tent and sleeping bags, cooking was done on a “triangia” portable kitchen and whatever food we could carry. Turns out dehydrated chicken curry and chilli con carne can be really delicious after hours outside. Hunger really is the best spice.
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| A Dane and a Germ cooking up a dehydrated storm |
With the Swede being the guide, we soon realised that even Swedes can be unprepared. Items forgotten among others being; waterproof clothing, warm clothing, lunches…turns out resourcefulness leads to a sweater becoming long johns and such other improvised inventions at a pinch.
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| Improv swedes |
The act of hiking is known as vandring in Swedish, and the never-ending joke that kept me amused was; “vell vat are you vandring about?”. Funny how after three days, unknown distances covered and a bruised toe can lead to some members not thinking that its that funny any more*.
*This explains the reason the marching song contains the phrase: bl**dy Kiwi. (Please note, this also has nothing to do with a Saffa’s inbred disdain at anything linked to New Zealand’s rugby rivalry, or recent scarring of the cricket world cup knock out stages)
Our accommodation was provided by most hiking members carrying the tents. Each day ended with selecting a fantastic campsite, one person making the dinner while the others set the tents up and fetching water. The views and times at the camp sites were simply astounding. Its tough to describe the feeling, that after a hard days slog, to have a dip in an ice cold lake (literally snow-still-melting cold), and sit back after a good meal, looking out over the vast panorama, mug of wine in hand and appreciate where you are. Truly magnificent.
Did I mention that the greatest part of each camp was the ablution facilities? Choose a spot with the best view, toilet paper and matches in hand and all off a sudden epiphany’s can spring to ones mind when you least expect it. Case in point, invention of the Marching Song. Memorable indeed!
The weather was flamboyant at best. It was only after we had experienced some of the hottest weather in Sweden (about 25 degrees), seen pale skins turn pink and sweated the equivalent of our body weights that the Swede amongst us stated: “you should never be out in nature when the weather is perfect”. He was right, as three days of near perfect weather turned into a massive rainstorm on the second last day, which then turned into constant rain for the remainder of the hike. This is where the walk turned into a trudge, albeit a breathtakingly beautiful trudge through some of the most amazing scenery I have ever witnessed.
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| Wet weather pose |
Its through the hardest parts of a hike where the best memories are made. Its also funny at how these times you keep getting reminded of the fact that there is always some member of the party that has the lighter bag, doesn’t offer group effort of sharing tent loads, cooking utensils, offers no food, eats everyone else’s snacks, constantly complains, has a terrible accent and is generally a like walking with the equivalent of a water buffalo for company. Please once again refer to the Marching Song for an innuendo on that member.
With friendships being formed, memories created, experiences gained, respect earned and suntan’s caught, this hike will certainly remain as one of my fondest memory’s for a very long time. Next time you see me with a distant look in my eyes, you could probably guess vat I am vandring about….
For those who grapple with the concept of ironic humour, or would like the plain facts, the hike was around a lake called Mjölkvatnet, was 48 kms long, took 4 days and was really amazing. See this link for details:
