Introduction
I mentioned on my last Norway report that I'd be spending this summer doing some holidays in the Alps or the Pyrenees. I guess I was wrong. The lasting appeal for Norway is its wilderness and the fact that I can camp anywhere I like for free. I found that camping isn't generally allowed in the Austrian / Swiss / French alps. So I had a look at plane ticket prices on the internet and found that I could buy airline tickets to Arctic Norway for £30 less than last year. Imagine then the cringe on my face 2 months after buying the tickets when I saw the airline tickets for £100 less than last year!

This time I was heading for Narvik. It was 150miles further north than Bodø and I was heading off three weeks earlier than last year to try and experience the midnight sun. I expected more snow, but I naively expected it to be depleted enough to allow easy enough walking. Looking at the weather reports and webcams leading up to my trip however showed none of the snow melting and temperatures looking more like a Scottish Winter than a warm summer.

Friday 11th June
So I jetted off on my usual British Airways flight to Oslo before catching a connecting flight to Harstad-Narvik. As the cloud peeled away the further north I went, it became evident that my holiday was too early. Great swathes of upland were simply covered in sheet white snow. I knew then that skis wouldn't have been such a bad idea (even though I can't ski!).

So I landed in Narvik with temperatures soaring to 13 degrees celcius - the warmest weather for six weeks! A connecting airport bus took me into the town Narvik 70km away where I purchased bread, cheese and gas before catching a connecting bus to Beisfjord - the start of my long walk. Friday evening was a brisk walk up Skamdalen on a private track before camping next to the main river. I slept well that night, waking up still tired at 12.37, I thought I overslept - oh, it's just after midnight! I just couldn't tell inside my tent whether it was night or day!

Saturday 12th June
I woke up eager to get on with the walk, and to find out just how much snow there really was high up. It was going to be a long day, not least because my pack weighed in at 25kg. I continued along the track to it's end before walking a along a path to the end of Skamdalen where the path rose up into the hanging valley of Skamdalsbakken. The valley was quite remote but scarred by a high voltage powerline going straight up it. This whole area around Storsteinsfjellet seemed to have an extensive hydroelectric scheme and this power line was probably just one example of this.

The slopes of Mattacorru were steep, high and quite white. Occasionally I hear the odd crack and rumble and once I could just about spot a small avalanche as a small protrusion of rock got covered over. As the path turned into the valley of Nihkevaggi, the quantity of snow in the valley slowly increased as I got closer to its 770m watershed. The streams and rivers seemed fairly average for flow rate and this suprised me as I expected all the melting snow to fill the rivers up into torrents.

At the head of Skamdalen looking towards Rienatcohkka

Looking back down Skamdalsbakken

I crossed the watershed of Nihkevaggi and the quantity of wet snow was now much higher than before. Most of the time, the snow was OK to walk across but occasionally my feet would plunge straight through leaving me knee deep with a 25kg rucksack. I came across a large stream flowing out of Rienatvaggi and was entirely expecting it to be a monstrous torrent given it flowed out of a couple of glaciers - not at all! The stream was low, suggesting that the core temperature of the snow and ice was well below freezing point.

Near the watershed in Nihkevággi looking back

The cliffs of Nihkevárri where I witnessed the avalanche free fall down the 500m high cliff.

As I continued towards Lossivatnet, I heard a large rumble behind be, turned around watching in awe as an airborne avalanche plummeted down the 500m cliff of Ninkevarri. It was impressive! It was also a stark reminder that these mountains are not sleeping. There was avalanche debris on all the steep snow slopes in the valley I just passed through.

The stream flowed into Lossivatnet, but this Lake had no outlet!! The map showed an outlet but plainly this was a reservior as the water/ice level was 20 metres below the high tide mark! 20 METERS!!! Despite walking on the high shoreline I felt a long way above the water.

I was tired by the time I reached Lossitua hut, but the scenery I just passed through was very bleak. It was cloudy all day and that added to the sense of bleakness, but now I had just 1 kilometre of downhill walking and I would be back in the land of trees and songbirds - much more hospitable. By the time my tent was up the first spots of rain started to arrive. My plans of continuing south to the famous Kungsleden path had to be abandoned, that route went over even higher passes and I would be faced with the prospect of having nowhere to camp except on soft wet snow.

Sunday 13th June
Today dawned fair with sunny spells and cloud. It was to be a day I should make good use of - as bad weather was forecast later in the week. I headed east up dirt tracks to a hydro electric power station at its end where I continued along a path along the valley of Cunovuopmi. The scenery was fantastic, I passed around the extensive massif of Storsteinsfjellet. The principle summit is the highest mountain in this part of Norway at 1893m and has many subsidiary tops ranging between 1500m to 1700m.

Looking down Norddalen to Rundtinden

The peaks of Nihkevárri seen from Norddalen

I met two people along the path, they were out for a long weekend walking from Katterat to Skjomdalen. They told me about the pass leading over to Katterat being very snowy and recommended that I camp just before the pass and "save my energy". I made my way east to Cunovavrrehytta before heading north to camp above the shores of lake Seaiggajavri.

Looking east from the watershed near Cunovuopmi

The names of all these places were neither Norwegian nor were they Swedish - but the language of the Sami population. In Scotland there are equally unpronounceable names in the native Gaelic language but the names here seem to have a combination of vowels and consonants that make them almost un-typable as well as unpronounceable

Looking south from Cunovuopmi into the snowy valley of Rimsecáihna

Looking north from near Cunojavrrehytta to the summit of Ristacòhkka

Camping near the snowy lake of Selggajãvri looking towards Ristacòhkka

The weather during the afternoon showed signs of change as a warm front began to roll in. By 10pm it started raining. Apart from occasional dry spells, it wasn't going to stop raining until Thursday morning urrgh!

Tuesday 15th June
I spent the entire Monday stuck in my tiny one man tent all day only going out for water collection, washing up and the toilet. It rained steadily all day despite some very weak sunshine poking through quite often. By lunchtime at Tuesday I was fed up enough to move, it still rained but less so than of late and so I packed up and headed off up the path to the snowy pass of Oallavaggi. The pass was indeed very snowy and the lakes up here was completely covered over in snow. The progress was slow but steady, I managed to keep pace by aiming for each "island" of rock or grass and so I was able to measure progress.

After the snowfall, camping in Hundalen

There was a hut in the middle of this pass, very small it probably had room for four bunks. After 2 further kilometers, the path descended about 100m to a small dam diverting water away from the natural watercourse into a tunnel. The scenery here was enclosed & rocky. During the crossing of this pass, the rain remained very light for 2 hours but was now to steadily increase the tempo for the rest of the day and night.

I descended back down to the land of no snow at Hunddalen where I crossed a ford marking on the map. I was expecting a torrent, but what I got because of the damming was something little more than ankle deep. I put my tent up and spent all of Wednesday watching the rain turn to snow pilling up a small bank of the stuff up against my tent.