I slept well in periods, waking for the last time at 05:30 from the joint efforts of a nearby cuckoo and the morning sun quickly warming the tent beyond comfort levels. I therefore had no choice but to get up, and did so into a beautiful still summer morning. I sat outside for quite some time enjoying the scene and the open air, and the play of some birds on the next hilltop. Eventually I turned to breakfast while the morning clouds moved off to the northeast, leaving a mostly clear sky behind. As I packed up the power of the sun asserted itself, and by the time I left around 08:15 it was already very warm.
I crossed the stream right above the confluence, going out to the nearby edge to have a last look at Gaippugorsa. Here the terrain was very flowery, and walking was pleasant across the mostly open heath that played host to a higher-than-usual number of golden plovers underscoring my advance with their melancholic tones. I passed several shallow ravines containing the larger brooks running down this side of Visttasvággi, and it was only the last branch of the Márffigorsa one which held enough water to require some care, but it too was easily passed.
After that I slowly gained altitude as I approached Roavigorsa, coming to this much deeper ravine just where two stream branches joined up. Passage would have been easy further up, but I decided to check out the ravine itself right there, and once I had started down the slope (carefully) it turned out that the crossing of both ravine and stream was unproblematic at the joining.
After a short pause I made my way up the other side zigzag fashion, which was easy enough albeit taxing, and then followed the gradually stonier terrain, utilizing a couple of well-oriented snowfields. I passed south of the summit of Roavičohkka where the ground was stonier, soon turning into actual rock fields that grew sparser as I descended to the saddle before Duopmačohkka.
For the next portion up the latter fjeld it was back to rocks, but again a couple of larger snowfields facilitated my progress, even though the piercing reflected light had me squinting my eyes. Around here I noticed that the mosquitos and whatnot which had been my companions all day (but kept at bay by my repellant) were now gone, and there was a bit of wind to boot. Higher up the rocks decreased in size, covering undulating terrain which caused some course corrections for ease of walking, and it was not too long before I had reached the crest of the southeastern corner of the main rise at 11:30. Here I walked over to a larger rock by which I intended to have lunch, took off my rucksack...
...and discovered that the felt hat which I had fixed to its back was gone! I had done the same yesterday, electing to wear the light sun hat due to the warm weather, but now it had apparently escaped the latches. I walked back a bit along my route but saw nothing; in all likelihood it had dislodged itself somewhere much further down. This was a big downer, seeing as how that hat has been with me for many a year, on many a trek, but it is as they say: all things must end. With this realization in place I instead sat down at my rucksack – which had lost nothing else – and had lunch, looking out over the wide expanses that had come into view with the height.
Feeling all done I continued up to the saddle between the two summits, the crossing of which suddenly brought Visttasvággi back into view – and now with a much more impressive perspective. Yes! I carefully picked my way down the other side, where the ground consisted of nothing but rocks, almost touching the start of the second ravine making up the formation known as Njuovččagaskkat. After that the rocks collected themselves in furrows intersecting my direction of travel, but as I descended into the dell between Duopmačohkka and Jorbaoaivi the distance between these furrows grew larger, and the concentration of rocks between them smaller. Clouds had been moving in for some time, and now I heard thunder in the distance, currently off to the northwest – directly ahead. As I came onto grassier ground I suddenly saw a flash in the middle of my field of vision, and timed the distance to about 11 km.
The first arm of the stream at the bottom had a snowfield covering it, and the second was wide enough to offer no resistance. Now the thunder was directly north of my position, and I could see the accompanying rain behind Vierročohkka. I went up the gentle slope on the other side, heading westwards, where the ground was easily trodden. Now the clouds were starting to reach the sun, and I felt the approach of the northern darkness, but there only came a few drops as I neared the first ravine in my path. I came to it a bit lower than desired, but a snowfield made the crossing an easy one. The next ravine also held a fair bit of snow, and I had to go down a short distance to circumvent a section that was too steep – and in so doing scared up a hare from its lair (rhyme of the day). I now found myself on the flat outrunner that was my intended goal of the day, and started examining the ground. It was all grass, but there was a slight slant to it and some of it was on the wet side, but I quickly found a very agreeable spot in close proximity to a small brook, with a very appealing backdrop.
It was about 14:30 when I started to put up the tent, finding it difficult to judge what the wind was up to. The northern thunder had moved off, but a heavy shower was currently dumping its load over Nikkaluokta, and there was more of the same off in that direction. After a change of clothes I sat outside for a while before entering the tent, and not too long thereafter the first drops started falling. There was more thunder, but it kept its distance this time, even though the heavier rain did not. I spent the time doing crosswords and resting, and when the sun broke through I went out to tighten the guylines.
I had rather a full dinner inside while another mighty haze enveloped the Nikkaluokta area, and more rain was also coming in the west, but none of it reached my location. I read and rested in the tent until the clouds started to break apart, and then went out to just be. It was a perfect evening – or would have been had it not been for the mosquitos that had found their way there with the loss of the wind – and I enjoyed it to the fullest. The sky was now completely clear and when the sun passed behind Jorbaoaivi proper the air grew pleasantly cool (well, relatively so), and it was with a fair deal of reluctance that I turned in at 22:15.