Saturday 17/4

Unna Reaiddávággi/peak 1526
| Horizontal distance: | 18 km |
| Vertical distance: | +940 m, -800 m, +40 m, -180 m |
| Time: | 6 h 15 min |
| Lunch break: | 30 min |
| Dinner: | – |
| Night accommodation: | – |
| Stage classification: | Hard |
Visttasjohka was very icy, but at least there were trace amounts of snow in the tracks. I kept to the western side of the stream, and after a few hundred meters I went up into a region of bushes, where there were some older ski tracks. Finding my way between these bushes was fairly easy, as there were natural streaks to follow, and then I emerged onto a large open mire which was mostly bare, but I was able to find a winding string of snow that allowed me to cross it rather than having to go around it.
However, shortly after doing so I came to an open stream, and I could not see any snow bridges or the like in the immediate vicinity. I skied a bit downstream at first but as the likelihood of finding a passage there seemed to diminish the further I got I turned around, winding my way between the trees. Perhaps a hundred meters or so upstream from my first point of contact the stream grew narrow and then split into two courses, but it was still wide and deep enough to prevent crossing. Then, suddenly, it disappeared below the snow, and I traversed both arms at once.
I found more ski tracks on the other side, but I created my own in slowly ascending the slope at a shallow angle, aiming directly for the mouth of Unna Reaiddávággi. The forest was sparse enough but there were some rocks and bare patches to watch out for. There was also some wind at first, but it soon died down and things started getting uncomfortably warm. After I had cleared the trees I found the tracks again (clearly those of the trio who had come this way from Nallo two weeks earlier), and I held a high course up to the crest marking the start of Unna Reaiddávággi. Here I was once again granted The Effect of having mighty peaks rise beyond a "near horizon" – and Pyramiden and Knivkammen certainly fit the bill.
I could see some high veils far off to the southwest, but other than that the sky was a dome of unbroken blue. As I proceeded into the valley snowless areas started appearing, and I managed to find my way across/past the first few, but then they turned too large and stony, so in the end I took off my skis and started walking. This was not too easy, since in these parts the valley has a marked V shape, and the rocks did nothing to facilitate progress, although some stretches I covered upon the very path I had walked in autumn almost half a decade earlier. The terrain consisted of wide, shallow trenches filled with snow between those rocky areas, and since the snow did not always carry and the inclination was appreciable going was cumbersome.
At one point I had to turn back and choose a slightly different route lest I put myself in danger of a slide, and having quite had enough of it all I carefully walked straight down the next gravel slope until I reached the snow at the bottom. This brought me into the chill of the shadow of Bálggástakčorru were I found the tracks again – and I could ski again, even though the inclination (I was not down at the actual bottom yet) put a strain on my ankles. After a while I reached the tributary stream coming from up Reaiddáčohkka, and the gracile waterfall a bit upstream was now a stunning pillar of ice. Here I stopped to put on the climbing skins, and then made my way up right beside the cornice on the western side of the ravine I was currently in.
In doing so I quickly reemerged into direct sunlight, which among other things meant that the snow was softer, so continuing across the now flatter slope was more comfortable. I kept the skins on and maintained my altitude, but after a while I started giving some serious thought to my heading. That little adventure in the forest down in Visttasvággi had consumed some time, and I now needed to make a choice as to just what course of action would yield the best experiences given the remaining time. After some deliberation I resolved to climb the northern slope rather than continuing up through the valley, hoping for a good view over the upper peaks which the upcoming cliff face would otherwise block.
The climb was warm and somewhat steep but not difficult, and the snow remained soft in the surface. After zigzagging past the steepest part I aimed more or less straight for the 1526 peak, going out to the edge at one point to look out over the valley. In the other direction the Reaiddáčohkka glacier spread out beneath Reaiddáčohkka proper, and the eastern parts of the massif looked curiously flat from this perspective. The last bit up towards the summit consisted of beautiful, cold powder, but when I reached a marked dent in the precipitous southern wall it got stony, so I took off the skis and walked the final distance. There were several smaller rises upon the flattened summit, and I stopped at the middle one to have lunch before 12:15.
After a quick meal I walked over to the western rise, pleasedly noting that the wind-packed snow up there carried my weight for the most part, and was rewarded with quite an extraordinary view of Knivkammen, Vaktposten and Čeakčahjälmen, as well as the 1344 lake and the sharp, slanting ridge immediately beside it – the same ridge that had awed me from the other direction previously. As I stood there I became aware (it was hard not to) of a helicopter coming from Tarfala, turning west through Gaskkasvággi, and it was a bit of a shame having to listen to a smattering engine in the midst of this spectacular wilderness.
Having drunk in the scene I picked up my rucksack and walked back to the skis, but before putting them back on I went out to the edge of the dent, which gave me a stunning view of the valley with the almost vertical cliff face of the mountain I was standing on in the foreground. I remained in place for some time looking at a series of micro-avalanches upon this cliff face, brought about by the powerful sun – and then the helicopter returned, going to and fro around Knivkammen and Čeakčahjälmen. At last, however, I did put on my skis again, and the time was 13:00 when I began the descent.
As expected, the snow was just wonderful, and with a low stance I could make full telemark turns. It only lasted for that uppermost stretch, but what a stretch! After that I mostly kept to the tracks, switching into my touring-mode quasi-telemark, which was also fun enough. I glided past the steepest sections of the righthand slope before turning down into the valley, and now the soft snow made turning difficult, so I had to work more. Further down there were hardened parts which I could make use of, and as I proceeded a bit east of my upward tracks it got better still. Towards the end my legs were rather tired, having taken over 600 meters in altitude in one go, and I took a different route down below the cornice beside the ravine of the waterfall.
I continued to hold a lower course, coming upon the others' tracks before long – and speaking of tracks there were also several sets down on the central stream itself, but since going down there would involve some slight climbing I remained above the lowest slopes, and I could see a number of problems ahead in the shape of short rocky ravines there anyway. After passing a couple of fearless ptarmigans I had to carry my skis a short distance, but then I could continue with some care just above a steep slope leading down to the stream. Then I had no choice but to jostle my way through the first trees, which at times was more than tricky, and after a bit I came to a shallow snow-filled ravine with sparse vegetation. Here I decided to make an attempt to reach the crest, and despite the relentless sun the snow carried pretty much all the way. Having reached the end I carried the skis across a few nearby bare areas, and when I found my own tracks from the morning I sat down on the last rocks to rest for a while.
This while turned fairly long, and as I sat there looking back into Unna Reaiddávággi as well as out over Visttasvággi a wind gradually cooled me down. When it started getting chilly I got up and stepped into the bindings, going slightly above my tracks at first, but then took to following them. The sun seemed to be somewhat weakened, but there was no veil to account for it, so I wondered whether that ash cloud had something to do with it. I soon found myself in the shadow of Reaiddáčohkka where it was noticeably chillier, but I did not mind that at all. Back down at the open stream I went straight ahead, west of a low ridge, skirting the edge of an icy pool, and then passed through some low bushes and the like, finding fragments of more ski tracks of older make.
I crossed the ridge at a place where it was at its lowest, which brought me to a region of dense trees and shrubs, so I started rounding it – and then something caught my eye. At first it was just movement, then white movement – and then it resolved into a hare hopping away ahead of me. They're not easy to spot in their winter shroud, but on occasion it happens. I followed an old track for a bit and then skied out onto the stream from Stuor Reaiddávággi, which I then followed to Visttasjohka. I now had a good view of the cottages, but I saw no signs of human presence there. I made a wide turn over Visttasjohka so as to avoid the dubious ice close to the bridge, and reached the cottages after 15:15.
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