Arctic calling

People seem to like asking me whether I am excited on the eve of trips or events. I usually struggle with that question. My instinctive answer, "of course not, I am not twelve!" is one that I don't usually say out loud. Do people really get excited about things? I'm usually too busy with planning and organising and so on to be excited about it. I'll enjoy it when I am there, I say. Until then, I need to prepare. I enjoy the preparation a great deal too. The research, the organising and exploring the options are all part of the fun, isn't it? But that's not quite the same as being excited though, is it? Immediately before a trip, I am usually too stressed out with packing anyway for excitement to show its face. 

This time though is different. Without prompting, I have been declaring my excitement to almost anyone who had the misfortune to speak to me. I repeatedly drop words like "trip" and "packing", so they are compelled to ask me where I am going. 

North!

Leaving Malmö

I am heading north into the arctic* in search of snow and solitude. And I am excited! As the train pulled out of the station today, I had to resist clapping my hands. Same again when I first caught sight of snow lying on the ground beside the tracks. 

I first went to the Arctic almost exactly nine years ago in January 2012, and what an amazing trip that was. The first thing I said when I got home, in fact even before that, was that I will go back. Every year I tell myself, I'd head back north next winter. For one reason or another, I never did. Not in winter anyway. I have been back in the summer where I experienced the surreality of the midnight sun that people seem to be so excited about. I didn't get it. I found the constant daylight disorientating and disconcerting, annoying almost. I lost track of the time of day and my already erratic sleeping patterns went haywire. I went out hiking after dinner one day at about 10 pm and did not get back until past 2 am. My body and brain did not understand when I was supposed to sleep, so I didn't. That said, I have no great aversion to the summers up there, other than the soul sucking swarms of monster mosquitoes of course, but neither do I have any great desire to go up there in the summer... except to one day climb Kebnekaise or to do the Kungsleden. Winters though, are something else. There is something about it that calls me. 

This trip was a spontaneous one. In the year of the pandemic which grounded everyone across the world, travel had become something I longed for but no longer tried to plan. With borders closed, countries imposing quarantine requirements and a host of other restrictions, where is there to go? Trying to find the ideal combination of open borders, low numbers of Covid cases, flight availability and reasonable prices was a decidedly depressing experience so I gave up. People are going through a lot worse than me. If my biggest problem is not being able to feed my wanderlust, I can shut up and live with it. I resigned myself to keeping calm and carrying on until spring in hope that things would ease up a bit then. 

In one of many pre-Christmas video coffee (or wine) chats in December, I found myself recounting tales of my adventures in the north. And just like that, the flame was once again lit. I was filled with a longing that I am not sure I can find the words to explain. One part the draw of the landscape and light; one part the yearning for the sense of serenity that fills my soul out there. Two days later, the trip was booked. Three weeks later, here I am on a train hurtling north into the darkness and cold. Both of which there will be a lot of. Sunrise is at 10.12 tomorrow, sunset at 13:21; current temperature -14 degrees Celsius.   

First glimpse of snow

Travelling by train

The journey in this case is part of the destination. It has to be. I will be spending two days on the road... or erm, tracks, for the three days that I will be in Lappland. I do love train journeys. It has been a while since I have taken one of comparable length; most likely the last time I headed north! I am sure that unless I meet my untimely end, this won't be my last long train journey. I certainly hope there will be a much, much longer train journey in my future, one that would take me through comparable terrain.* There is something about train journeys that make me reflect and reminisce. Perhaps the odd sense of speed and leisure simultaneously, provides a good opportunity for contemplation. The landscape scurrying by somehow conjures up glimpses from the past. Of course, some of the memories awakened are not necessarily the warm fuzzy-feeling kind, which means I am also often melancholic on train journeys. Perhaps that it actually a good way to process such emotions. The natural excitement that I feel from the journey makes it easier to feel hopeful and move through any sadness.

Traveling in times of Covid

Domestic travel is not prohibited in Sweden, though we are advised against non-essential travel. Does this count as being essential for my mental health? I’d say yes but I’m quite sure that wasn’t what was meant with essential travel. The official advice goes on to say that any travel should be undertaken with as little contact with people as possible. This means avoid public transport if possible. Hmm... The lack of a car and valid driver's licence is a bit of an obstacle there. So I am on the train. They have blocked off a number of seats to ensure that there is sufficient distance between people who are not traveling together. In further effort to minimise contact with people, I have also booked an entire sleeper cabin for three for myself on the next leg. That way, I will not have to share that small space within anyone for the 12-13 hour overnight journey. This however means that the reasonably priced element of my travel planning has completely gone out the window. Not so small price to pay for being safe(r), but well worth it. 

Upon arrival, I will be shuttled to my "igloo", which is not really an igloo as it’s not made of snow and ice, but is igloo shaped. It’s by a now frozen lake and left to my own devises, more or less. I will get breakfast delivered every morning and have a few activities planned, so I will not be completely alone for the duration. If I understand correctly, there will be a forest to one side of my igloo and a lake on the other. The nearest town is 8 km away. I think I will have no problems social distancing. 

Snow!

Less than an hour on the train and the landscape is covered in snow. According to the weather forecast, snow is expected at home anyway over the next few days. So to embark on a trip to search for snow was perhaps unnecessary. But this is about more than that. While I still cannot find the words to explain it, I can say that the thought that I am heading into the snow and cold, warms my heart. The rapidly approaching dusk and darkness, and the anticipation of the long hours of darkness up north is explicably comforting.  

*Only just. I'll be about 4' within the Arctic Circle. 

**No prizes for guessing the Trans-Siberian railways

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