Wednesday 13/9

The night was not nearly as cold as it could have been, at least not at first, and I was able to sleep soundly. I got up at 7 and looked outside, only to find that the weather had not changed one bit, apart from the – temporary – absence of precipitation. I had breakfast inside, again assisting the drying of the shirt, while the all too acquainted drizzle started outside. I packed up and changed into walking clothes, this time choosing the full wind dress on top of the thermal underwear, and cringing a bit when pulling on the damp and cold boots. The cloud cover did not seem so dense above and to the southeast, but it looked much worse to the west – where I was going, of course. I stowed the last few things and departed from the hut at 09:00, noting that the drizzle was still at it.

I followed a slightly different route down to the trail, keeping a somewhat larger distance to Frámakjuhka. The descent was not hugely simpler than the ascent had been, however, especially due to the abundant water on the ground cover. In stark contrast the first portion on the trail was easy enough, but there were extensive regions of high, wet grass, and it wasn't long before my legs were all wet. I usually carry the camera case in my right trouser pocket, but now I had to "save" it from the moisture as the water-grass continued to soak through all layers of clothing – ironically, soon my feet were the driest part of my body. That didn't last, however: the terrain was very wet in every respect, and after some kilometers of sloshing small amounts of water began to trickle into my right boot, which apparently could not withstand the fluid attacks no longer (partly my own fault, as I had been less than diligent in applying waterproofing wax before leaving home).

The drizzle continued and the west remained grey, but discounting all that, the wetness as well as my squishy boot – if that could be done – walking was not that bad, with a well-trodden path, nice autumn colors, cool air, etc. As I passed Máŋgagårttjie and approached the steep face of Jillie Frámake, the rain stopped, and so did I. Due to the extreme liquid saturation my plans had changed, and I now intended to press on all the way to Dalavardo before lunch, to minimize the time I would have to spend in a wet condition – while the trousers would dry at least partially if I could keep out of more high grass, the boot would not. So, I just had a bit of chocolate, reindeer meat and water while I paused, and then resumed walking at a brisk pace.

It seemed as though the weather was about to change; the clouds were lifting, the apparent likelihood of further rain decreased, and overall visibility was much improved. However, as if to spite me, then my left boot also gave in and admitted moisture to its interior. Drat. Adding this to the abovementioned discounting effort walking was still "nice", and the landscape started opening itself up as I drew closer to the western end of the valley, with the rain still kept at bay. I stopped at an unmarked bridge before Skånjágårttjie to have some more chocolate, but not long thereafter, as I came up onto an open area beneath Hábaknulppa it started raining again. This time the intensity was higher than before, and I decided to stop under a sizeable tree to exchange the wind jacket for the rain jacket. It would not have taken an oracle to foretell that the rain would peter out after just a short while in this new garment, which is exactly what it did. I kept the rain jacket on, though, as the difference in walking comfort compared to the wind jacket hovered around the limit of noticeability – which, by the way, is a good indication of its quality.

As for the weather, it steadily improved again, revealing more and more of the flatter land ahead. I then entered a region of nice – and dry! – heathland aflame with color, where there were even some marking cairns along the path, something which I hadn't seen thus far. Walking there felt like a relief somehow, but the joy of it all was hampered by the boots, which by then contained a most uncomfortable quantity of water, and my feet were on the verge of becoming painful. As I reentered the forest about half a kilometer before my goal the rain decided to have another go, but I didn't exactly consider a bit of extra wetness to be of particular concern at that stage. Finally, at 12:45, I spotted the red buildings of Dalavardo in a clearing ahead.

Cloudy west...

...and less cloudy east

The nearby clouds...

...were quite low

Clouds clutching Jillie Frámake

The Máŋgagårttjie rapids

A calmer section of the river a bit upstream

Traversing a mire

Clouds...

...drifting...

...in the valley

Plentiful growth

Skånjágårttjie rapids

Ascending to an open area

Looking back through the valley

Hábaknulppa

Duhkievárdduo to the southwest

Partially clouded Ámmarde

Coming out onto...

...the nice...

...heathland...

...before Dálávárdduo...

...with a multitude of autumn colors

My original plan was to pass Dalavardo, continue a few kilometers along the southbound trail, and then make camp, but the errant water had put a stop to that – the clothes I wore I could have handled, but two squishy boots quite simply required immediate attention. Consequently, I had resolved long ago to stay in the cottage and dry as much as I could, in any event hoping for better weather the next day. Before starting this, however, I went back to the brook I had passed just before arriving at the clearing to fetch a bucket of water, and then I removed all wet items from my feet, pouring an almost astonishing amount of water out of the boots. There was a good deal of firewood inside, so I set about making a fire in the stove straight away, and then gradually changed into dry garments, hanging the wet stuff on the hangers fixed to the ceiling above the heat source. Only when this task had been finished I allowed myself to sit down for lunch at 13:30, by which time it was raining hard outside.

Dalavardo consists of an old cabin with a few beds, and the newer, larger red cottage with four beds in a large kitchen/common room, and a sizeable attic with mattresses and a heater (plus the usual woodshed and privy, of course). The cottage gave a very robust impression, and was very tidy; finding such a place in the middle of nowhere felt almost improbable. Having eaten I adjusted the drying stuff for optimum performance, and then poked around in the cupboards. There I found a pile of old guestbooks ranging back all the way to the beginning of the 1980s, and started reading. Later on I went out to check on the rain, finding that it had decreased enough for outside work, so I began chopping firewood to replace that which I would be feeding the drying fire. Towards the end of this effort the rain was barely noticeable, and visibility had improved drastically all around. I went back in only to find that the blazing stove combined with my work-raised body temperature made the inside much too hot for comfort, so I opened the doors and sat down to pick up my reading in the vestibule.

The clouds were lifting to the west, while it was actually clearing to the north, and the blue hole thereby formed was steadily approaching my position, where a light rain had returned. That soon stopped, however, and then the clouds above broke apart, and a bright patch appeared south of Dálávárdduo. Inside the drying of the cloth items had gone really well, but the boots were much slower in recovering, as expected. I spent some time caring for the areas on my feet which had taken the most punishment during the squishing, rubbing some ointment into the skin and then putting protective tape over it. Ámmarde in the south had almost emerged, but new, low wads of cloud were pouring in from the north and northwest, eating up the blue. I then started making dinner, using the hot stationary stove to boil water rather than assembling my camping stove.

Dalavardo from the south...

...and from the north

Ámmarde almost in the clear

As I started eating, the fresh clouds had moved on to the south and the north was clearing again, while the eastern sky was already a plain blue. I resumed reading the guestbooks, and suddenly thought I heard a sound outside. The source of this was something I had been half expecting to see for the better part of the day – another visitor. This visitor came in the form of a lone German man who had walked from Ammarnäs the day before (it was never confirmed, but from the distances and times involved I surmised that he had come through Skebleskalet), and his situation was similar to mine: he had wanted to continue for a bit longer, but he had little choice but staying at Dalavardo to give his clothes and gear a chance to dry. Therefore he was pleasantly surprised to find a steady fire burning already, and he went inside right away.

It was still fair to the east, but large low-drifting clouds in and from the west obscured most of it, and things looked quite bad to the south. I composed an entry of my own in the most recent guestbook, and while I was doing this I and the German alike were startled when the sun suddenly shone in through the window. A most welcome sight indeed. At that time the cloud distribution had shifted away from the southwest and southeast, but the swiftly changing patterns made predictions very hard to make. After all too short a while of the blessed light, the sun sank into a cloud bank further to the west, and it was not far from descending below the crest of Dálávárdduo anyway. Ámmarde was shedding its white coat, however.

It's getting lighter!

The buildings alight

A most welcome sight

Vibrant colors

The sun still remaining

Light on cloud-capped Ámmarde

I then spent some time resting while my companion ate, feeling the hardships of the day, such as they were. I continued working on the crossword and played solitaire, observing another round of dissipating clouds; those still coming from the northwest seemed to be more transparent and farther apart than before, and behind them, across most of its western hemisphere, the free sky was a beautiful sight. I proceeded to study the map, looking over my options for the morrow, and then read in my book for a bit. The German went to bed early, but I intended to stay up for some time yet, and snuck outside briefly.

By then the sky had returned to overcast, but with lighter "cracks" predominantly to the northwest, and there was a light wind blowing. Ámmarde was concealed again, too. I returned inside to have my evening snack, taking care to make as little noise as possible. The later evening was still and quiet, save for a bird with which I shared a moment of alarm when I almost stepped on it, hidden in the grass as it was. I put some more logs on the fire, and went to bed to read at 20:30, leaving the sleeping bag wide open to compensate for the pretty intense heat radiating from the stove.