SAMAYA x NUORREK

 

 

After a first major expedition combining sailing and mountaineering, Thibault and Loïc embarked on a grand winter crossing of Sarek, bringing along Guillaume, Basile, and Mickaël, long-time friends. For us, they look back on the miles covered in pristine white, the cold, the isolation, and the camaraderie.

 

“We had been eyeing Sarek Park for two years already. It attracted us because there is very little civilization; it’s a wild place. Several expeditions have already taken place there, but it remains quite marginal at the very beginning of winter, because skis and pulks cannot get through, as the lakes are not yet frozen.

 

Our idea was to be able to make the first winter tracks of the season, to break the winter trail.

 

Our only worry was that the lakes might not be completely frozen yet. The footbridges installed in summer to cross the streams are dismantled in winter, making the park crossing difficult. Just in case, we brought surf booties with us to cross these 0°C streams.

 

When we arrived in Jokkmokk, the last small town before entering the park, we were welcomed like royalty, with magnificent northern lights. We were surprised by a drastic drop in temperatures, going from 0°C to -25°C at only 100 meters in altitude. We took advantage of these last moments of civilization to pick up a few last warm items.

 

We had mapped out an initial 7-day itinerary of about a hundred kilometers, with our 20-kilogram bags on our backs. We were traveling on snowshoes, the most suitable means for us to move in these conditions. However, we were not moving as fast as we had planned. As soon as we put weight on our snowshoes, we would sink 50 centimeters, which slowed us down and wore us out. We took turns breaking the trail so that everyone could conserve energy. We were progressing at an average of 2 kilometers per hour.

 

On the first day, we covered 20 kilometers, walking for 10 hours straight without taking time for lunch. We were a bit scared because, in that section, we were in a vast open space with no obstacles. The next part involved about sixty kilometers of 'off-trail' walking, where we could end up in a birch forest with trees every 20 centimeters, which makes orientation difficult and seriously slows down progress. The deeper we went, the fewer the possibilities for rescue in the event of an accident. At this time of year, snowmobiles cannot pass because the snow layer is still too thin and could collapse, giving way to the swamps not far below.

 

At the end of this first day, we had climbed a few hundred meters in total, in a gray atmosphere, surrounded only by snow and fir trees.

 

The second stage promised more elevation gain to reach another plateau. We got up very early to ensure we could cover all the planned kilometers, trying to stop for lunch in a small, unguarded cabin. Repeating our first day was unthinkable; our bodies would not have lasted the whole expedition. We finally arrived at the cabin later than expected, around 2:30 PM. The view above the mist was breathtaking; it was magnificent to gain some height and discover the extent of the park. We had covered about fifteen kilometers, five less than we had planned. Night was falling in two hours. If we stopped for lunch, we wouldn't be able to head back out.

 

Stopping to eat takes a lot of time, more than it seems. We had a major issue with water that we hadn't anticipated. When we collected water from the streams, it would freeze in our flasks within an hour. To cook our food, we had to melt snow to get enough volume in our pot, which meant at least fifteen rounds of melting snow in the container—a very long process.

 

We were tired and decided to stop there for the day and rethink our itinerary. To avoid the forests, we spotted a huge lake which, if it wasn't frozen, could be crossed by boats left at our disposal, and if it was frozen enough, could be crossed on foot. Anything in between would have eliminated any possibility of passage.

 

So we set off on the morning of the 3rd day, with an incredible sunrise, a clear view, and a sea of clouds taking us out of the gloom of the previous two days. We were extremely lucky with the weather conditions. Usually, it is extremely cold and the climate is stormy. We managed to have a few days of fine weather, less wind than average, and the nighttime temperatures did not drop below -20°C. During the day, they fluctuated between -5°C and -15°C, which was fine since we were moving.

 

Arriving at the lake, we were happy to discover it was frozen. We immediately struck the ice with our ice axes to determine its thickness; it needed to be 15 centimeters so we could step on it safely. To check the depth, we used a small spoon as a reference, using the scale on the edge of our freeze-dried meal bags to get an idea of the centimeters. Our spoon-gauge reassured us as it sank into the ice: we could pass. We repeated the operation throughout our crossing and made it to the other side without a hitch.

 

At the end of this stage, we checked our maps again. We had spotted an iconic summit of the valley not far away. We decided to go there the next day. On the way, we had the luck and pleasure of coming across some ptarmigans.

 

We set up our bivouac in a relatively flat area where we could drop our gear and climb this summit while traveling light. As we ascended, the weather cleared, and we covered the last few meters in the sun, which was incredible. We walked in the tracks of wolves and wolverines. While heading back down to our bivouac, we observed a herd of reindeer on the move; it was extremely impressive. We approached slowly, while keeping a reasonable distance so as not to scare them, because otherwise they run until they can't anymore. During winter, they can run like that a maximum of four times to escape predators. After those four times, they no longer have the energy or physical resources necessary to do so. We enjoyed this spectacle with, as a bonus, the entire sky tinted pink.

 

 

We were truly lucky in the morning at the bivouac: we were calmly outside, without wind, thawing our boots over the stove, after spending a superb, restful night in our Samaya3.0 and Samaya2.5 tents.

 

The next day, we walked in a mixture of fog and white, blurring the boundary between the earth and the sky. There was nothing. Except for a single rock.

 

At that moment, the whole team felt physically and mentally well. Except for Basile, who had been a bit sick. We switched back onto the plateau and started a traverse, trying to adopt a fast pace. We stopped by the edge of a frozen lake at 2 PM to eat and try fishing. Despite all our efforts, we ate our freeze-dried meals that evening, by the fireside. Night fell, leaving behind a violet and pink sky. Sitting in the heart of the mountains, we watched a gigantic moon rise. At that moment, everything was perfect. We were well adapted to our environment, our clothing, and our equipment. But the end of the adventure was already near!

 

For our last day, we were descending in altitude. There was still a lot of uncertainty because we were going to cross segments that were less and less frozen, and we didn't want to end up with our feet in the water. We felt the ice cracking under our feet. Whoever was walking in front acted as a minesweeper: it was up to the person in the lead to find the best path. We took turns every 15 minutes to break the trail, so we could move quickly. We covered 20 kilometers in one morning. We were in the fresh tracks of bears and moose and redoubled our vigilance. We finally ran into a family of moose not far from there.

 

After the 20 kilometers, we still had 10 left to reach the car. We passed a Sami, a reindeer herder, working on his snowmobile, very surprised to see us out here in these temperatures: he himself hadn't even crossed the park yet this early in the season.

 

Back in the car, we realized how quickly we get used to comfort again. In barely an hour, our bodies had warmed up and let go of the pressure. As soon as we stepped out of the car, we were freezing in two minutes, even though we had just spent 10 days outside at -20°C.

 

Only the warmth of our hearts mattered: we were happy about this winter adventure and all those moments shared together.”