From Sarek With Love.
Roaming the Reindeer wilds of Sweden’s frozen North.
From Issue 104 2022
Words Evelina Nilsson | Images Thomas Vialletet
April 1st, 2022
I’m standing on a glacier in Stora Sjöfallet National Park, Sweden, crying with awe while looking out over a canvas I cannot describe after one of the best runs of my life. Mountain-tops as far as the eye can see. A place that feels eternal, a never-ending beauty. Staring out towards Sarek National Park, I already know I need to come back to explore more of this beautiful place.
I grew up in a family with the core belief that “anything is possible”. To now witness a world in turmoil, I realise it goes both ways. Whatever we put our belief in is also what we experience through the lens of our own perception. On an individual level, this pandemic has taught me unique lessons and reflections.
Dreams and projects outside of our country’s borders have been pushed into a future unknown, although, I guess, we’re always in the unknown; one just thinks one knows. I personally learned I have a country so beautiful and diverse, wild and pure. It’s something I have always known, but not given the focus it truly deserves.
Not being able to travel encouraged me to dream about the wilderness of Sweden and its many gems to discover.
"Why are we driven into such wild places? Far from the comforts of civilisation. What about these places is so enticing?"
I’d been planning a project with my partner in exploration, Janina Kuzma, since before the pandemic. Fortunate enough to call myself a Swede during these craziest of times, I was able to roam free in Sweden. For Janina, so used to back-to-back winters, it wasn’t so easy. She’s so passionate about traveling, and learning about different cultures and what unites us, despite our different backgrounds.
Why are we driven into such wild places, far from the comforts of civilisation? What is it about these places that’s so enticing?
I´ve always been drawn to the Sámi, the indigenous people of Sweden. They seem so connected, so drawn to nature and the wild places I love. Janina and I started looking at maps and reading about the Sámi people who live in the area we call Sápmi. Our curiousity about these lands and the people who live there grew each day. Sarek and Stora Sjöfallet National Parks are pasture grounds for the reindeer of the Sámi, who are the only people in the region allowed to use snowmobiles
Throughout the park they have small huts for shelter as they drive their reindeer herd along. This is part of what makes the area so special. The people who come out here are really dedicated and passionate about nature, and they’re willing to pull their gear through any conditions.
I called one of my best friends, Albert, to ask him where we should ski. A lover of the mountains, Albert has had a special connection with Sarek for some time. He simply said,
“Låddebákte. You have to ski the couloir; it’s the coolest run in Sweden. But with Sarek, you have to expect crazy weather, howling winds and cold temps.”
But he’d planted the seed and it was time to let go of the outcome.
April 2nd 2022
So, our crew of five curious and excited adventurers—myself, Janina, my sister Julia Nilsson, our filmmaker Martin Olson and guide/photographer Thomas Vialletet— walked into Sarek, Sweden. All of the pieces were laid out, ready for us to dive deep into the wild on a journey we’ll always cherish.
We were immediately met with strong winds and cold temps, but we still felt like anything was possible on that first day. Striding along on cross-country skis, we each pulled beautiful old wooden pulkas. These are traditional sleds laden with gear, some 80 years old and refurbished to last 100 more.
"That first night we were welcomed by the most extraordinary Northern Lights. The wind dropped as green & purple lights danced above our heads."
Step by step, the mountains rose even higher, truly the greatest feeling. No circumstance could bring us down. We planned to be out for 12 days, with the aim to make our way to the Låddebákte couloir called “Lådderännan”, which was about three days’ walk away. If something caught our eye, something in our flow, we’d ski that too.
Putting up our first base camp in the craziest winds prepared us for the days to come. Julia and I paid close attention to the more experienced winter campers, observing all the tips to stay comfy during the storm. That first night we were welcomed by the most extraordinary Northern Lights.
The wind dropped as green and purple lights danced above our heads. It seems that when one accepts the challenge and walks into the unknown, there’s always a reward, some kind of confirmation or sign to encourage you to keep going. All the struggles instantly drop away and you are left grateful to be alive, experiencing something so beautiful and pure.
There had been warm conditions leading up to our trip, before it all froze. As a result, I didn’t expect any good snow, but that didn’t matter. I was happy just being here with the people I love, sharing a journey. From that first day we experienced crazy, stormy weather, hard winds, heavy snowfall and the deepest snow. Perfect powder. Our first day of tree skiing was an absolute joy.
Prior to the trip, I thought we would mainly be skiing open faces and big lines, but the hard winds amplified the avalanche danger, pushing us to ski through the old mountain birch trees. To go from cross-country skis to downhill, free of the heavy weight of the pulkas, was incredible.
Dancing through the forest together down to Rapadalen (Rapa Valley) was just beautiful.
We continued to move slowly through Sarek, pulling our pulkas in silence, soaking in our surroundings. It wasn’t always easy. Most of the time the temps sat around -10 to -15 degrees Celsius, with strong winds. But the crew was absolutely stella; we laughed at our struggles, at our falls towing such heavy gear and at our skinny cross-country skis.
Being in Sarek is like moving through the most beautiful painting, but seeing and experiencing all of its dimensions. With no mobile reception, you can completely disconnect and reconnect, which made it easier to shed the distracting layers that no longer serve us, and to feel the clarity of true joy. Our natural state of being.
After some crazy storm days at our Låddebákte basecamp, we finally had a weather window to try to ski the couloir. Never have I been on a mission with so much ease and balance in the crew. Nobody complained. When we couldn’t ski due to the storm, we embraced spending tent-time together, learning new card games and games of dice. Despite the crazy gusts of wind, our tents stayed strong.
Our initial plan was to boot straight up the couloir, but we couldn’t quite see the top, so, we skinned around the mountain to enter from above. Three ptarmigans flew right in front of us as we moved higher; mine and Julia’s spirit animal were gifting us a sign. We were on the right path. We just might get to ski the coolest run in Sweden. May the force be with us.
Tom checked the snowpack and gave us the green light. Dropping into the couloir was the biggest surprise, as we met really deep, light powder. Totally effortless. We took turns going first, each section feeling like we were unwrapping the best Christmas present ever. It was one of the deepest runs I’ve ever skied, and seeing Janina’s and Julia´s faces brought me tears of joy.
On the last section a falcon soared into the couloir to join us. To us, the falcon is a representation of Matilda Rapaport´s essence; our deceased friend had come to say hello.
Back at basecamp we all felt so lucky and grateful. The next few days we again took shelter from the storm and celebrated Julia’s birthday. I’d totally forgotten to make a cake, but we did have some Hershey’s Cookies & Cream.
We waited out the weather for another day before starting our five-day march back to civilisation. Our return route was different, so we weren’t totally sure how long it would take. The deep snow made pulling the pulkas really tough, grinding out just one kilometer every hour.
Every day was a new challenge, but we rose to the occasion. If someone needed help, our fatigue just vanished. After any big challenge, our surrender to the process always brought a reward. There was always some kind of confirmation that we were on the right path when we accepted everything to be exactly as it was. An eagle soared by.
We found other people’s tracks to follow, and they found ours. We crossed a frozen lake and gratefully hitched a ride on the only bus back to our cars to end our journey. Faith in the unknown is what leaves room for miracles. I felt so grateful to share this experience in one of the coolest places on Earth, together with my sister and Janina, and for them to finally meet in a place like this.
Being out in the wild for such a long time, with no input from the outside world, is like a great meditation retreat. The only task is to meet any new now with presence and equanimity. Being with what is. We’re reminded that life is simple and beautiful when we let go of the story. It’s freedom.
Looking back, my heart sings and a laugh bursts forth. There were deep belly laughs. Pulkas flipped over. The birds. The snow. The sky. The silence. The flow. The love. I feel like myself again, like I did as a child when everything was easy. I feel free. The beautiful thing is I can bring this feeling into any experience. It´s my choice.
My biggest thank-you goes to skiing for showing me unity every day – unity with myself, the people around me and nature. Thank you to the best crew. To the land Sápmi, the Sámi, the mountains and everyone who is so in love with this magical place.
See you soon.
