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Antje Neumann guides a party of Europeans into the bleakness of the Swedish mountains. How does a tour guide from Germany via Oulu get on bringing skiers around icy slopes? Read on and find out.
 Antje and the party before Tjäktjä, in the Swedish mountains
I’ve guided many trips in Finland, mostly in the Kuusamo area, Riisitunturi, and Syöte national park. Those are beautiful areas, with typical Finnish tunturi mountains, snowy old forest, a lot of lakes, and huge marshlands.
But this March I leave my usual paths. Assignments bring me northwest to the northernmost Swedish Scandinavian mountains and the area between Abisko and Kebnekaise. I’ve been trekking here many times on my own, but this is the first year for me to work it as a guide.
Though I love the Finnish routes, I’m thrilled at the change. My first gig is a snow shoe trip around Kebnekaise, Sweden’s highest mountain; culminating in a visit to the summit itself at 2103 m or so (the height varies due to the depth of snow and ice on its top). This goes smoothly: the eleven Dutch people I am guiding are great fellows and we have luck with the weather.
One night we even witness spectacular Northern lights over the scenery of the White Mountains.
Right after the first group have left, the next arrives. In between I have just enough time to wash and dry my clothes, smelly after a week in the wilderness. This group is small and international: Julia and Michael from Austria, Silke from Switzerland, and Sylvie from Canada. Our trip will lead us along Sweden’s most popular hiking and skiing trek, the Kungsleden from Abisko to Nikkaluokta, and over about 100 km.
We spend the first night in a mountain lodge at Abisko, eat a good breakfast, pack our belongings into sledges, harness the dogs, and head off into the leafless mountain birchwood. It’s a warm day and the sun is shining. There are none of the skiing routes common to Finnish skiing areas – just a scooter track, a few stray ski marks, and then no track at all.
Fortunately the trail is marked with red crosses to make orientation a little easier.
Skiing through this landscape is like gliding and takes no effort. We make today’s kilometres fast and have only three left to the first cottage at Abiskojaurestuga where we are to spend the night. This is good going, but we’ve been followed by storm clouds. The higher parts of the mountain have strong winds; you can tell from the misty drift. I hope the wind will let us alone, but in an hour the weather changes down in the valleys. The birch forest was sheltered, but in the open we need a lot of power to ski against the wind.
Then the storm hits us at full power.
At Abiskojavri, a frozen lake, a wall of drifting snow is blocking the way to the lake. This is too much for Moses, the sled dog who pulls my sledges. He gives me a questioning look, refuses to go to the lake, and simply turns to look for shelter in the bushes. "Okay,” I shout, turning to the group quickly, raising my voice above the wind. “We follow the lake to arrive at the cottage, but we can't ski through the birchwood. Could one of you ski in front, so my dog knows where to go? I’ll be right behind you!”
 Storm on the lake
We fight the storm for what seems like hours.
When we finally arrive at the cottage, five snowballs and a very reluctant dog, the caretaker is already meeting us. “Welcome,” he says. “Stormy, isn’t it?”
On the second day, the weather is sun in the morning and snowstorm for lunch. We ski bravely into the next valley, about 300 m higher than yesterday’s, bringing us out of the shelter of the birch forest. Then the storm hits again.
The temperature is only a few degrees below zero, though, so I don’t consider the conditions too bad. In Finland we sometimes have our lunch breaks at -20 celsius, sitting on sledges. You just put your jacket on and take care your sandwich doesn’t freeze before you manage to eat it.
For the group the weather is quite new so we wait to have lunch until we arrive at a mountain shelter in the early afternoon.
To be continued!
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