Thursday July 16th 2015. Kaitumjaure cabin. Two days walking in one. 25 km


 Bij Kaitumjaurehut    In midden de waardin van de Kaitumjaure-hut

Kaitumjaure cabin                                                  In the middle the guardian of Kaitumjaure cabin

After two summer days with 20 degrees C, with lots of mosquitoes, it’s  Laponia “spring” again. Tonight at 8 o’clock it is 5 degreesC. Cold wind. Delicious. So noo mosquitoes. After leaving the schoolchildren and their staff in Vakkotavare cabin, the path immediately started more than an hour very steep uphill with 20 kg. on my back. Even Tosca found it too grim and she refused to pull me. On the contrary, she dashed from left to right next to the steep, rocky path, looking for prey. I got the  … I do not know a good word … . Gee, was that heavy. Stiff out of the bed harrying my sensitive heart. Clearly Harrie, sweet sixteen is over. I dragged myself up, but yes, once on the highlands, well in the cold wind, you have a come back and hope you can walk a little faster. Not so: Fields with large rocky boalders, where you have to walk or jump from block to block. Almost impossible with a quirky bitch on the line. I released her and she was searching her own way, still here and there catching a mouse or a lemming. Large streches of swamp also had to be crossed from stone to grassmound. I felt like a cord dancer until Tosca pulled me out of balance and I fell back in one of the many streams. 

With the backpack on my back it’s very hard to get up. Floating and all wet. And it was only a few degrees C. above zero  and a real icy wind blew over the bare plain. What should I do? Take off all my cloths here in the cold winter, getting the whole backpack upside down searching for dry clothes, loosing much time, though that is least important, or walk on and hoping to warm up again and hoping the dripping cloths will dry. I chose the latter but my red fleece jacket didn’t stop dripping , my pants did not get dry and I felt very uncomfortable. Then better play the naked monkey. I still had a dry piece of clothing. On top of that, the wet, wringed fleece jacket and off we go. I can not afford to get a cold or even worse. Slowly I got warm again, ate my last piece of chocolate and started to enjoy it again. At 2 o’clock p.m., after a long, heavy descent,  all the way cursing “slow, Tosca, slowly” I arrived again at a lake, Teusajaure lake. This lake also had to be rowed across and if you had bad luck you had to row three times. There are always three boats and there must always be at least one at each side. On my side, just one boat, then you cross to the other side, take a second boat there on tow and row those two boats back. Then once again you row with one of the two boats to the other side for a second time. As I walked down the mountain I met a couple. I asked: are there one or two boats on this side? Holy sh.., I must row up and down three times in the cold wind over the rough water. The oars were fixed to the boat with a rope, so that rowing was almost impossible. Hey, what is that? One of the two boats at the other side is heading my way. Hey, I only have to row once. On the lake, I lost one of the oars. Rather difficult to get it back with heavy wind, one oar and ice cold water. But well, we got across and there was also a cabin, of course, Teusajaure cabin. But I wanted to add another day’s trip, to the Kaitumjaurestugan. I cooked my lunch in the Teusajaurestugan (= cabin), hung out my clothes to dry, a conversation with again an emigrant: a 70-year-old Dutch lady who moved to Sweden after living in Switzerland for a number of years, and who founded a Steiner School here in Sweden. This is my life’s work, she said. But I wonder if my work will be continued. We had an interesting conversation about inspiring people. I compared her to Jesus, the inspirator. But the christian church was built by a follower, Paul. You only have to inspire one good follower and that one might make your work much bigger than you did. That encouraged her.

After three more hours I reached Kaitumjaure cabin. Again as primitive as the previous ones. Holy heaven, what a simple cabin. Unlike last night, I have a room for Tosca and me alone, with a gas stove and a bucket of river water. So first I finish yammy yammy, start hanging out my cloths, blogging, a brief chat with the lady guardian, view tomorrow’s route and time for the evening prayer. Shaving and shower should wait another three days, until Abisko, the end of the 450 km Kungsleden. I’m one week ahead of schedule! Holadeladio.