Sylan in Swedish

The way into the Sylanmountains drags on. The backpacks, freshly filled with food, weigh heavily on every step. The small trails that lead us into the Norwegian-Swedish border area this year are new. For us. When it became apparent in the immediate run-up to the undertaking that Norway would not reopen its borders to tourism in time due to the pandemic, we decided on an alternative approach via Sweden.

And so it happens that three days before the start of the tour, a community bus of non-flyers sets off for Sweden, a Swedish reindeer welcomes us at the starting point and everyone grits their teeth for the first long day of the tour. The destination is a remote, fantastically long wild river, which we head for this year already at the beginning of July. Upon reaching the first minimum stage length, after a steady climb, it's exhausted closing time. It is an unusually warm summer day for the region. A persistent heat wave hovers over northern Scandinavia.

The relief about the achieved goal lasts as long as the evening wind. Immediately with the onset of calm, the raid takes place.

The relief about the achieved goal lasts as long as the evening wind. Immediately with the onset of calm, the attack takes place. Swarms of mosquitoes make escape impossible. Mosquitoes yes, but we had not experienced this scale in the region in all these years. Even the most aggressive sprays don't seem to have the right effect this evening. We are surrounded, enveloped, without a chance. The long traces of blood from the opponents who were killed too late begin to show on our tops. The pleasantly cooling cat wash in the small stream becomes a gauntlet for the brave. Sweet blood or not, dinner suddenly takes place in a big hurry "to go". The unsociable early retreat into the own four tent walls is inevitable. The low point of the tour seems already reached on the first evening. But neither does the day want to run out, nor does a colorful sunrise reward the early risers. Welcome to the Swedish high summer near the summer solstice.

The next morning, not without a certain pride, the number of stings suffered is compared. The clear winner can also show the most conspicuous skin reactions, changing color between yellow and red. In view of the heat wave and the plague of mosquitoes, we are looking forward to the change of weather announced for this day. A freshening southeast wind is supposed to bring persistent rain showers. With a round of early morning sports we drive the last tiredness out of our bones. The day begins right away with the first exercise: equipped with map, compass and GPS device, two participants take the lead of the group. What is the best way to the entry point at the lake? Those who like may try their hand at guiding on selected sections of the route. The common orientation in the terrain, the choice of the exact route as well as the estimation of time and altitude meters is part of the expedition style of LWA.

The large snowfields below the peaks still bear witness to the comparatively cold early summer and promise a good level. As cooling snow counters along the way, they are a welcome occasion for a break or two. Of course, a snowman must also be built. The break-enriched section of the trail inspires the spontaneous invention of numerous new bestsellers. The most popular, for a given occasion, is the ice mosquito spray in concentrate form. On this morning the route would have been almost easy: Here, all paths lead to the shore. But a river crossing is a little bit of a challenge. Without further ado, we adapt our route to the conditions and are rewarded with a wonderful entry point, hidden behind a gravel mound piled up in the river mouth. With a row of looming rain clouds behind us and a few motivatingly delicious gummy bears in our stomachs, we head for a long stretched lake whose name we try to pronounce as Swedish as possible. Despite our best efforts, it sounds a little different to everyone. How good that at least Sylan is so easy in Swedish.

Cheers, we paddle in the best drinking water!

With phased push assistance we surf on long stretched waves over the lake. If a cloud approaches, we benefit from the cooling tailwind; if the sky is cloudless, there is a lull. For these moments it is worth to keep the cups handy: Cheers - we are paddling in the best drinking water! Crystal clear and ice cold, it is pure pleasure.

On the other shore, like a box, the perfect campsite for the second evening is already waiting. On a higher edge of the shore we pitch our tents with the best view over the bay. Exposed to the gusty southeasterly wind, cooking in the lee becomes an expert affair, but we remain untroubled by pests. Again and again sunbeams flash diagonally through the cloud formations and provide a beautiful play of light. The whizzing of the wind and the calls of two birds of prey accompany us through the late evening hours.

Our third stage offers the most elevation gain and tests everyone's morale one last time. Not every backpack transfers the weight of the packraft equipment ideally to the body. The weather shows its cool Sylan Classic side on this day from the beginning. The rain gear ready to hand and prophylactically taped possible blisters, we start early on the ascent. The boggy ground is soaked with wetness and smacks as we walk. Again and again frogs jump to the side. A bird flies up immediately from the path. We quickly walk past the well camouflaged nest with the green speckled eggs so as not to disturb the wild animal further while it is incubating. Low hanging dark gray clouds, with dense curtains of rain in tow, keep wrapping us in their wet garb. As the day progresses, we will join our trail from Norway and come within sight of the destination of our hike, the wild river where we plan to spend the next few days.

Our destination for the first half of the day is the small refuge at a deeply notched saddle of the mountain. Kindly, the sky cracks open a bit and provides us with a rain-free lunch break. How good, because a quick look inside the hut reveals that there would have been no room for us here. Four young adults have completely taken over this emergency shelter. A strong smell of wet socks and stale air is already hitting us on the doorstep. A young man hangs visibly weary in a corner. Surprised by the heat wave, the group had to break off their hike. The mood seems to be in the cellar. After politely offering our help, we leave the four to their own devices and look for a wind-protected spot outside the hut. A gas stove and an unevenly lame Esbit stove rival for the first coffee guests. Soon, over a hot beverage of choice, the first snack bags, still well-filled, make the rounds. The clear favorite turns out to be - not exactly surprisingly - the home-baked almonds. Bringing good snacks is a decidedly safe way to secure the goodwill of the group.

The clouds clear and a seemingly endless, hilly landscape spreads out before us. In the middle of it winds a shining ribbon, the destination of our tour.

The highest point of our tour is overcome. Away from the designated hiking trails, our route now leads us steadily downhill. The clouds clear and a seemingly endless, hilly landscape spreads out before us. In the middle of it winds a shining ribbon, the destination of our tour. Small rivers leap down the mountain flanks, rushing with meltwater. A river crossing spontaneously built of stones here, a small detour there and we have reached the next stage destination. Only one night and a few kilometers separate us from the big river. Also at this campsite we choose the most exposed locations for our tents. Again and again the smallest wind shadow lures the mosquitoes out of their herbaceous hiding places. Small flying clouds accompany every step and motivate one or the other funny photo motif. But what still led to bright excitement on the first evening is now only acknowledged with casual comments. With mosquito repellent and stoic calm we accept the unpleasant companions. Our third night passes quietly, streaked by isolated curtains of rain.

The morning begins with a warm-up around the collected reindeer antlers. Cause for some deep knee bends and a lot of laughter gives an animated exchange about the ideal squatting position for the walk into the bushes. As we make our way along the game trails towards the river bank, rain showers again stubbornly cling to our heels. But as soon as we reach the riverbank, the weather becomes a minor matter for a moment. The hike is behind us, the river is in front of us. With great anticipation, we repack and head out onto the water. Once in the dry suit, we are happy to get wet from above. Small splashy swells, playful sweeping waters and dreamlike gentle river bends are waiting for us. Only a few meters in front of us, a white-tailed eagle takes to the air with its mighty wings. Its white thrust shines brightly in front of the cloud-covered sky. Every bend in the river has its own little surprises.

The evening light already bathes the landscape in rich colors as we end our tour above an impressive waterfall and walk downstream towards our overnight campsite. A young reindeer calmly crosses our path and swims through the river right at our spot. What a beautiful encounter in a very wonderful spot. A late campfire soon lights up the tired faces and invites us to socialize. The combined evening and morning red accompanies us through the night.

Directly from the campsite we start the next day into the true adventure of wild river travel. At a good level, an excellently passable labyrinth of river stones greets us, rushing swells and winding, photogenic play spots await us. The one or other spot makes quite an impression, but no one is deterred from riding the waves and the laughter at the end speaks volumes. The river shows itself from its best side and demands again and again all concentration to read the course of the main current. When slalom riding, the imagination is challenged. It is important to remember where to leave the big gray elephant on the left and then pass in front of the mating turtles. It is a feast for the senses to glide along this crystal-clear river and to immerse oneself completely in the Scandinavian landscape once formed by the weight of heavy glaciers.

In the late afternoon, heavy rain showers pelt down on our helmets again, transforming the water surface into a mosaic of dancing drops. The air is filled with water for a moment, but soon socks, pants and shirts are dangling from colorful clotheslines in the sun again. After another evening of good conversation, a campfire by the river and a colorful rainbow overhead, we paddle out through Bieber County onto a lake on the penultimate day of the tour. In the warming sunshine of the midday sun and with the surface as smooth as glass, we enjoy a moment of pure drifting. Gently rocked by a pleasant breeze, some of us doze off in a relaxed state. The only sound is the gentle lapping of the water. Silence. Until, first quietly, then increasingly clearly, a family drama begins to unfold before our ears. The sound of bickering continues across the lake. At a certain distance from each other, two canoes emerge. In the front one, two teenagers paddle, mutually expressing some kind of displeasure. In the back, two adults follow. Silently. Amused, we follow the spectacle. Civilization has us back.

In the warming sunbath of the midday sun and with the surface as smooth as glass, we enjoy a moment of pure drifting.

In the early afternoon we reach the sandy beach of a small, uninhabited island in beautiful weather. We have reached our last campsite on our tour through the Scandinavian wilderness and once again consciously enjoy the vastness of the Swedish landscape. On the shore, the lake is shallow and pleasantly warmed by the intense sunlight. After everyone has settled into their tents, we meet for an entertaining sit-in in the lake. Behind us are long trails, heavy rain showers, and a fantastic wild river that makes it all worthwhile. Over the course of the week, a real community has developed. You get to know each other between the approach and the paddle stroke. Unforgettable remain the stories that were created together. From the ice-mosquito spray to "I don't have to have been here to know the shortcut" to "I don't have that many layers. You're just not that layered." Or simply "It's uphill."

After the large lump of cheese, which has survived the entire tour undiscovered in a backpack despite its not inconsiderable weight, has been consumed in front of a small station house and the very last hearty lard sandwiches have also found their grateful buyers, a leisurely slow train brings us back to civilization. The speed is just right. We say goodbye Sylan Mountains, we are already looking forward to next year.

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Special premiere at the end of the 2021 season: On the evening of September 18, 2021, author Susanne read her Sweden story at the LWA season's end as darkness fell around the campfire on the banks of the Nahe River. A great moment! Thank you very much!