The Key River
The GPS track crossed the river right here. But the water was too high and the current too fast for us to decide to go in. We had reached Tåggnårisjåhkå. The river that fifteen people had turned back from two days earlier.
For two days we had been hearing about this crossing. That morning at Mikkastugan we decided to continue along the planned route through the Rapaälven valley anyway. If the river could not be crossed safely, we would retreat. We got over the first stream, Máhtujågåsj, without major problems. Now we stood in front of the main obstacle.
We started looking for another spot. Upstream, then downstream. The point on the track was of little help. We needed a crossing that was passable at this water level.
Rafał spotted a lone hiker on the other bank. While we were looking for a way across, he had already crossed. We had not seen where. Rafał walked up to him and struck up a conversation. It turned out he was Lithuanian. He offered to show us the place where he had just crossed the river himself. It was quite a distance downstream, in the very spot where we had also been considering a crossing. That was something concrete. We knew a crossing was possible.
Rafał went first, dropped his backpack and watched me step into the water. I went carefully, looking for stable footing. Near the end he came out to meet me and pulled me by my backpack over the last few meters.
We were on the other side. We had come out of the gorge. We had been so focused on the crossing that only after a while, once the tension had drained away, did we notice that the sun had come out from behind the clouds. We sat down on the moss and low shrubs and simply enjoyed the moment. We spent maybe half an hour there, thinking the worst was behind us.
Nobody Warned Us About the Third
After the rest we moved on. The sun was shining, the views were beautiful, and we were walking relaxed. The path kept getting lost or splitting, so we stuck to the GPS track. Absorbed in the landscape, though, we had stopped checking where it led.
In these beautiful surroundings we reached another river. We had not even considered it a problematic obstacle, and it turned out to be the worst of the day. A turbulent, murky and deep glacial river.
We checked our position on the GPS. We were off the track.
We headed downstream to get back to the marked crossing. There we found a cauldron of piled-up water and scoured rocks. It was impossible to cross there, too.
Below it was a waterfall. Rafał went farther down and found a crossing beneath it. To me the current there looked too strong. So I went to look higher up, where the water was calmer. I tested the depth with a stick. It went in all the way.
I went back to Rafał, to the crossing below the waterfall. I looked at the raging water and could not really see how I was supposed to get across. Inside I felt a mix of disbelief and bitterness. Thoughts swirled in my head. A river like this was not supposed to exist anymore today. Rafał offered to carry my backpack over so that I could cross without it.
He carried it to the other bank. I stepped into the water, trying with all my strength to keep my balance. From the far bank Rafał called out where to put my feet. The water came up to roughly above my knees, the current pulled, and I could not see what was under my feet. On the other bank I felt relief.
Finding the spot and crossing took us about an hour and a half.
The Vastness of the Valley
Then the path returned and we could marvel at the landscape again. A hill rose beside the trail. I clambered up it, and at the top sat two older Swedes. They said they were taking a rest day, because the weather was too beautiful to waste on chasing kilometers. I envied them a little for having the time to relax here and soak in the views, while we were in a different rhythm.
From the top, what struck me most was the space. Below stretched the Rapaälven valley, and a huge river wound through it. It split into numerous branches and meandered between stony bars. Only from here could you see its scale. Above the valley rose mountains partly covered by glaciers. From those ice caps flowed the rivers we had to cross.
A Pass for the Night
After coming down from the hill the terrain turned boggy again, and then gave way to a stony stretch, just like in the Tatras. We changed into trekking boots so as not to risk cutting the rubber boots on those rocks. Because without them the bogs would be really hard.
We wanted to climb the pass that same day, see what awaited us next, and not leave that ascent for the morning. We labored up the boulder field. When we finally stood at the top, we pitched the tent and set about cooking dinner.
Along the route
Day 5 in photographs. Select an image to enlarge it.
