Oh so quiet ... the Sarek wilderness.
It is the quiet that is most striking. I am listening to Zelenka's Missa Dei Filii, and it suddenly seems so out of place - too constructed and formal for all this vast stillness; too contrived for such wilderness. I spare the batteries and listen for the lapping of the water on the shore instead, but even that is muted. There is no breeze and no birdsong, either. I am hiking along the Ahkkajaure river, and at this point it is so wide it looks like a lake. The landscape is dominated by the Ahkka mountain with its spectacular glacier, and there is such a primeval sense around that I feel I am intruding on some ongoing creation, that I must surely be the first human to tramp these ways.
This is the north-west corner of the Sarek. Perspectives change - I can't believe I was so preoccupied about where to sleep a couple of days ago. While a sleeping bag in the open at Gallivare would probably not have been appreciated, here that notion seems quite normal. Concerns about clean changes of clothing also feel inappropriate. Just being here takes over, and seems all that matters.
The undergrowth is lush, tall and spongy with moss at times, and I find I am fending it off as much as the mosquitoes. Most of the hike runs through this, but as I climb higher, it becomes sparser and scrubby willow and birch take over. Today's prize for the most beautiful wild flower goes to the Kung Carl flower, a tiny banana-shaped yellow flower on a purple stalk, which holds its ground proudly amongst the profusion of wild thyme.
To get here and start my wilderness traversing, I took a bus to Ritsemfjallstation. The bus driver is adept at many things: dodging potholes, reading his notes while swerving away from the curb, sharing road space with a couple of moose, who sat down in the middle of the road and refused to budge. He also doubled as the postman, and pulled over periodically to fling a bundle onto the ground in places where there seemed no habitation at all. We crawled along at about 35 km/h, and as there were no bus stops, hikers wanting to be dropped off in bizarre places were easily accommodated. I was the last to leave the bus, and with that, all vestiges of civilisation as I'd know it. Now it is just the wilderness - vast silence and beauty.
