Monday July 13th 2015. Rittak shelter between cabin Pärte and community Aktse 26 km



Re voor de Duitser. Daarnaast de Belgen uit Antwerpen. Een was de fee Right in front the German. Then the Belgians from Antwerp. One was a fairy.

De Pärtehut met de Nederlands sprekende Duitser en de Nederlandssprekende Belgen

De Pärte cabin with the Dutch speaking German and the Dutch speaking Belgians.

Waterleidingen overbodig. Men drinkt uit rivier of meer

Water taps unnecessary. One drinks from creek or lake.

Moeilijk lopen over die rotsen

Difficult walking on those rocks.

Verwonderlijk dat Tosca haar poten niet kapot loopt

Amazing that Tosca’s feet don’t get wounded.

Tosca vindt het één groot avontuur

For Tosca  it’s one great adventure.


Eindeloze verten

Endless scenery.

Als dit bruggetje het maar houdt

I hope this little bridge can bear my weight.


Ik krijg de deur van schuilhut Rittak niet open

Rittak cabin door seems locked.

Nicolas, de Franse surviveler, komt naar buiten

Nicolas, the French survivaler, comes outside.

Kacheltje aanwezig + paarhonderd muggen

Stove is present and a few hundred bugs.

Na de muggenslachting eigent Tosca zich een brits toe

After the mosquito-massacre Tosca conquers a place to sleep.

Met deze stelling ben ik het niet eens

I don’t agree with this statement.

Interieur doet denken aan een deur van een openbare toilet!

Interior makes me think of a public bathroom!

Last night, the cloths still were dropping. I wrung them out, hoping that they would be dry this morning.
  A tourist information where I wanted to go to, did not exist in Kvikkjokk. Jan finally decided  to take another route: the Padjelanta. After about 14 days he would be in Abisko, while I would arrive there a few days earlier on my Kungsleden path. By then we will see whether we wait for each other, in order to continue together on the wildernis path, the Nordkalottledenroute. Going together is always safer. We’ll see, on verra.
  It is one of the warmer days. Between 15 and 20 degrees C. I slept well, overfilled my stomach, bought a new mosquito net and extra supplies plus mosquito repellent for Tosca. So, all ready again. That’s why walking went smoothly. Now in my own pace, perfect, despite the hordes of mosquitoes.
After four hours instead of the 5-6 hours listed in the guide, I reached the Pärte cabin at 3.30 pm, the goal according to my guide. But I still can go on for hours. You know what I’ll do? Have some soup here, eat well and I’ll walk half of tomorrow’s stage. Half way tomorrows track is a shelter above the tree line, the Pärte cabin. That’s cool and windy, so fewer mosquitoes, I thought. But I was warned for the contrary. Arriving in Pärte cabin there were also two couples of young Belgians from Antwerp and a German who spoke Dutch perfectly. He had lived in Dutch Nijmegen for 10 years and now lived in Stockholm. Ever again  meet emigrants. Typical. While I was inside, seated at the window, devouring my food, I saw outside a nice fairy, wearing hardly any cloths, soaked, strolling through the forest to our cabin. Miracle?  A boys dream, beginning of dementia? Ich woar netuurlijk zoe vane miene sus oaf, tot ich vergoat mich die sjoen prie ‘|s good te betrachte (Free translation: I was so busy with my food, I tried to concentrate on my leek). It turned out to be one of the Antwerp nymphs, who had probably washed in the lake and now was testing how mosquitoe proof she was. Photo. Sign “Drinking more.”
Marius, the international German  and I left and continued towards Aktse. But soon Marius was gone. I have not seen him since.
 Gosh, is that running a lot easier if you slept well and when you have a full belly. What I had learned from Betty? (If the pig has had enough, it will lie down).  So I will soon, because in the meantime it is already evening. But first the story of the arrival at the shelter. Because I was not tired enough yet to stop at Pärte cabin, I decided to still cover half the stage of tomorrow, to cabin Rittak. I hit on the door but it did not open. So then I’ll  put up the tent. Some stumbling in cabin Rittak. A man with such a t-shirt with bare shoulders, barefoot, appears in the opening. His English was so poor, but he immediately asked where I came from. I said, Netherlands, Spain and Hemavan. He was a Frenchman, so we went on in French. Whole stories he told me in rapid French. Now I can help myself quite well in French, but the French verbal waterfall was too much for me. I urged him to calm down, but that did not help. Probably it was my own fault because I hummed and nodded, thus naturally giving the impression that I understood everything. Anyway, I realized that his mother was Finnish, his father Frenchman and he was wilderness survivor. Now had been walking for weeks through the trackless Sarek National Park. Visited no cabins, kept alive eating plants and fish, lost 10 kg. in a few weeks. He showed me pictures of a dead bear he’d found, elk, reindeer, eagle etc. Masses pictures he wanted to show. Maybe happy to finally be able to tell someone.
I have not told him my Finnish joke: a driver picked up a girl hitch hiker. They ended the day in bed. She made so much noice that the driver asked: now you finished? She shouted no, no. So the game was repeated once more. So much noise that the neighbors woke up. Now you finish, the driver asked again. No, no, she replied, I am Swedish.
  The Frenchman had already killed some 100 mosquitoes in the cabin. I also killed about as many, but still it kept buzzing around our heads. Against my better judgment I hoped that those bitches would go to sleep too. Besides, I believe that only female mosquitoes sting, so the opposite as in humans. One gets used to anything but a female mosquito. Krèngemènte!(bitches) So, bedtime and I still have to call back friend S.

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