Sunday 9/8

It was so warm inside that I slept most of the night with an open window and without even the silk sheet as a cover, but in the early morning I woke up by a slight chill on my skin, so I pulled the duvet over me and slept for another hour. I arose at 07:45 next time, and looking out the window my gaze met a compact layer of cloud, but visibility up the valley was as of yet unhampered. When I looked out the front door, however, I saw that not only was it raining lightly, but a very low cloud was crawling up from the fjord, and nothing could be seen to the south. In just a few minutes the cloud had enveloped everything in a mist, and the rain intensified. Not the best walking weather.

I had a calm breakfast while the rain poured down; later on the cloud started to lift and the rain shrank back again. I packed up with no particular haste, and now a new cloud was coming up from below, bringing more fog and heavy rain. I finished up and cleaned the place, and then sat down to wait and see in which direction things were to develop. When the cloud-and-rain broke up once more I decided to chance it, and left at 09:45 with the rain clothes tucked away in the pack.

From Ny-Sulitjelma one can either walk on the road for a while longer, or take a path that starts right behind the new building. I opted for the latter as that meant a shorter route, but it seemed as though not too many people thought as I, for it grew vague after the first "mining mounds". Behind me yet another drifting cloud was approaching, and before I knew it I was walking in a thick fog. It was entirely still, however, and only some fine drops in the air yet, so the whole thing had a contemplative tinge to it. After a little ravine with a brook in it marking cairns appeared, and soon I arrived at a small dam close to which several cars were parked; the road itself continues for a bit longer, but it doesn't get any higher, and this is where the trail starts for real. Something else which was now for real was the rain, and I found some shelter underneath a small eave on a little shed-like structure with a grill, from which came the sound of gushing water.

When it seemed to be raining less I set off again, walking easily across the flat land ahead, but the fog remained. Soon the rain came back in force, and after sitting against a rock for a short while I gave in and put on the rain jacket, but I kept the hiking trousers on for now. Once again I waited for a "window", and when it came I restarted the walk. The terrain was now slanting downwards, and I had to do a wary passage of a large and somewhat slippery snowfield. I had caught sight of a person on the other side of a nearby stream, and when I got closer two tents emerged from the haze.

Heap

Fog

More fog

Dam

Clear markers

A glimpse of Storelvvatnan

Getting across the stream was an easy matter, but then I came to the glacier stream where the map has a marked ford – and this was not as straightforward. The first arm was easy enough, but the main course was simply too deep for my boots; I walked a bit along the shore to see if there was a better place, but since this was not the case I returned to the trail and changed into the sandals. The water was fairly swift but only reached halfway up my calves, so it was not in any way a difficult crossing – and actually not too cold either, considering the source. The third arm was so tiny that even everyday shoes could have handled it, but I thought I might just as well keep the sandals on. I walked a short distance up the slope on the other side before changing back into the boots, feeling quite content so far despite the dreary weather.

As I walked on the rain continued and visibility was as bad as before, and I pondered what a great view this would be under clear conditions, with Storelvvatnan just below and Sulidälbmá looming high behind. No more had I finished that thought than the mists started to part, revealing the strikingly vivid surface of the closest lake. From then on the situation steadily improved, albeit slowly, and despite the fact that it was still raining I found the experience rather splendid. Soon I spotted a tent some distance away from the trail a bit ahead, but no one moved around it. Tiny clouds were drifting up from the water, adding to the magical quality of the scene, and at times there was even a bit of weak light upon the liquid cyan. After crossing a larger brook I continued about halfway up the slope, and then stopped for lunch at a suitable rock formation at 12:15.

The ford

Downstream waterfall

Again

Acute blue

More and more...

...of Storelvvatnan visible

Soft light

Mini-panorama over Storelvvatnan

In the middle of the slope

I ate quickly as a new cloud came with a short and light shower, but afterwards everything started growing lighter. Now a figure was moving about at the tent, and after a while I could count three occupants in total; they were apparently preparing to break camp. I did the same, in a manner of speaking, and got back to climbing the slope, which was slightly taxing. The higher I got the stronger the wind became, but since the rain had ceased that was good for drying purposes. Four people were approaching my position from the other direction, and while waiting for them to arrive I walked out a short bit to my left for a better view; now the air felt light and there was no mist anymore, even though the clouds still hung low, and to the north there were even sunlit spots.

I then spoke some with the quartet (which consisted of Germans, unsurprisingly), learning that they had spent the night there at Smårsorjosvatnan, and had made a late start due to the weather – and speaking of late starts the other tent I had passed earlier was now gone. We parted ways and I continued down a smaller snowfield, performed an easy boot-ford, and started up the next incline. It was now warmer, and the wind had all but died down, so I stopped on the crest to take off the rain jacket, which had served as a wind shield only since lunch.

After meeting a couple of people (followed by a third) nature saw fit to bestow upon me a view most fantastic, for nothing else can be said of the tract that opened up before me: the sterile rock fields fell away, revealing a valley sprawled out betwixt many-colored slopes, hosting a fascinating sequence of blue-green waters at its bottom – and just visible above an intermediate crest was the exquisitely located Sorjushytta.

I made my way down another, much larger snowfield, which was largely unproblematic, and soon found myself on much saturated ground beside an elongated tarn. Here I mostly kept off the trail in order to find a drier route, but I still had to get across a glacier stream that spread out in many courses, a couple of which required attention. I came to the last crest and looked out over the cottages, seeing someone doing what looked like construction work on a shoreside building which I assumed to be a boathouse of some kind – and speaking of boats I caught sight of one of those as well, being rowed along the far shore of the isolated southwestern bay of Bajep Sårjåsjávrre.

Now one obstacle remained, in the form of an infamous snowfield; it is rather steep and slants down towards a swift stream, so if the surface is hard and/or slippery it is a hazardous passage, and one is recommended to ford said stream twice instead to get around it rather than cross it. Depending on the time of one's journey there might be a usable snow bridge across the stream, but at the moment this bridge was cracked. I surveyed the snow and carefully started out on it, after a bit turning back when I discovered a better route. This brought me close to the crack – and the stream – where the inclination was lowest, and with the help of my walking stick I could make my way straight down step by step, until I hit frozen footprints that led to the rocks where the snow ended. The last bit was a piece of cake, and I walked up to Sorjushytta at 14:45.

Another, sharper, panorama over Storelvvatnan

Småsorjosvatnan

Colored mountainside

Sulidälbmá concealed

Zooming over Småsorjosvatnan

In passing

A look back

Sterile

Reddish

First view of Bajep Sårjåsjávrre

Snowfield ahead

Sorjushytta appearing

Passing a tarn...

...and arriving at another

Outflow

Another outflow

One snowfield left

Almost there

The last snowfield from below

This place consists of two guest cottages, of which the new one is really new – it was erected in 2007 to replace the "old new" building, which was completely destroyed by a winter storm in early 2006. At the porch of this new new house I dumped my pack, and after peeking inside I went to check out the old one, which had survived unscathed, finding it both cramped and worn down. The woodshed also contained a residence of some sort, and I assumed it was intended for caretakers and the like; Norway usually doesn't have cottage wardens as Sweden does, at least not in the same capacity, but supervision and maintenance is carried out from time to time (such as building a boathouse, for example).

I then sat down on the porch again, not at all minding that a light drizzle had started, and at length I carried my stuff inside, claiming one of the two four-bed rooms for now. The interior of the cottage was extremely fresh-looking (of course), but in the Norwegian tradition also very comfortable and cozy – how does a full settee/armchair setup strike you at a place like this? Soon the temporary warden-cum-carpenter came in and greeted me, soon after which four Swedes came from, well, Sweden. This caused me to move into the other room, where the warden used one bed, so that they could have a room to themselves.

The bout of rain had passed, and it was now getting lighter, so all of us went out on the porch to look at the colors and talk. The others had been out for eight days, having started in Ritsem, and this was the first time that they had seen rain. Good timing on my part, eh? While they subjected themselves to cold baths I relaxed inside, and now the sun started making itself known. More talk followed, and then two more Swedes arrived, so we had a full house. The people in the boat had caught some fish and were cooking them over a fire outside, and I and the latest two also started preparing dinner, only of a somewhat less interesting nature.

Boatspeople

Northeast

North

The new cottage from the outside...

...and from the inside...

...with a colorful window view

The old cottage

Light

After the meal I settled down to read as the remaining foursome started theirs, and the warden checked in to see that the visitors' record was filled out properly. Then a New Zealander came in, and since he had crossed ways with the others earlier he entered into a lengthy conversation with them, mostly regarding books and authorship as he was an aspiring writer himself; he would also be staying the night, but in his tent rather than in a bed. The sun finally broke through for real, and I went out to savor the moment; it was great, of course, but also chilly. Back indoors I read a semi-fresh newspaper and then some Fjell og Vidde, making more visits to the outside as the evening grew clearer. While the four-group went for an evening walk I had my evening snack. The sky was now free of cloud save for a few high wisps, and I simply had to make a short evening excursion of my own before going to bed.

This excursion entailed climbing the nearby slope up to a medial crest; going further would be more trouble than it was worth seeing that I was only wearing the sandals. There was no loss in this, though, for the view from my acquired position was awesome in itself, with the cottages just below, and steeply slanting mountainsides across the hypnotic water – and the light was just perfect for the scene. Back down I looked through and wrote in the guestbook while the pair (father and son) played cards. When I retired towards 22:30 a low cloud was drifting in from the east, and smaller ones were forming around some of the peaks.