With some things there can be no doubt. There are certain laws that govern the universe. No question. Guaranteed. Fixed in stone. Written in the stars. You do this, that happens. You do that, this happens.
Day 21 – Luckily for Mr S, green just happens to be his favourite colour. With trillions upon trillions of acres of forest either side, he should be in heaven. Luckily for Mrs S, blue is hers. So far we’ve had plenty of blue skies. But, an inevitable change is looming on the horizon.
Today’s destination, Arjeplog sites our overnight stop at Kraja Hotell Camping and the Silvermuseet.
This small town featured once in an episode of Top Gear. Still a winter test site for the Asian and European car industries. Not that many of us have a desire to go skidding across a frozen lake.
A dusty pink, wooden-coated church is open. Always a good time and place to give thanks for a safe journey . . .
From the early 1920s, Einar Wallquist, The Lappland Doctor, as he was known then, worked as the district physician. Twenty-five years later he decided to open his fascinating museum of local culture, based around his incredible collection of historical artifacts that he’d accumulated.
The museum leads you through a dramatic landscape of wilderness life. Hard times. Managed by hardened people. Willing and able to live off the land. And be thankful for it.
Reindeer and the Birch tree provide the backbone of subsistence. Lappland has an abundance of both. Using every part of tree and animal to carve out a minimal existence. With an amazing ability to work with and fashion from nature, a wonder.
[below] This man, Lill-Per, famous for using this stick on weak ice. Testing its thickness in autumn. Making sure it’s safe to navigate.
The Sámi love to snazz-up their belts with intricate silver work . . .
Day 22 – Arctic Camp – Jokkmokk, our penultimate stop in Sweden. The journey northwards has not been as imagined. Without a better means of transport, exploring the wilderness impossible. 95,700 lakes, huge areas of dense forest, oceans of swampland and rivers, and very few Beastie-suitable interior roads curtail that romantic notion.
So the E45 it is . . .
There’s more to be sure . . .
Each day does bring about at least one unexpected little surprise, or two. Photo opportunities are rare along the route. Beastie skids to a halt at the merest whiff of anything that doesn’t resemble a tree or a lake . . .
Then, with the temperature hovering between 2-4C, the laws of mathematics and science were bound to take over . . .
30K further up the road, we cross over the invisible and constantly moving Arctic Circle – supposedly . . .
