A woman looks out at a stream and snow-covered mountains on a summer day while wearing shorts

Mountain Stories

An encounter with the forces of the mountains and an important decision.

The Hike to Måndalen

But in the Arctic mountains, nature is as beautiful as it is capricious—and I knew that my day would depend entirely on how well I had prepared the night before.

The morning air in Björkliden was so crisp that it almost tasted like spring water when I stepped out onto the porch. I drew the mountain air deep into my lungs and gazed out over Torneträsk, which lay like a mirror beneath the early rays of the sun. Today was the day. I was heading up to the bare mountain, up through the pass between Nuolja and Gohpasčorru, with Måndalen as my destination for the first time. But in the Arctic mountains, nature is as beautiful as it is capricious—and I knew that my day depended entirely on how well I’d prepared the night before.

This story is written by Petra from her point of view; she had company with her out in the mountains on this trip—never venture out into the wilderness alone!

A woman is looking at the view from the top of a bare mountain in a valley

Packing & Preparations

Packing: My lifeline in my backpack

Inside the cabin, my adventure had begun long before I tied my shoelaces. Packing for the Arctic mountains is an art—it involves preparing for all four seasons in a single day.

When I opened my backpack, I made sure my outer layers were on top—my shield against the sudden mountain winds and the lashing showers that can roll in over the peaks in just a few minutes. Even though the sun was shining at that moment, I knew that the bare mountains and nature up here show no mercy. Further down in my backpack, I’d packed a beanie and a pair of sturdy mittens; up in the heights toward Måndalen, the Arctic breeze can be freezing cold.

Then came the absolute most important thing for my feet: extra socks in a waterproof bag. A pair of dry wool socks can turn a tough day into pure enjoyment if you happen to step wrong in a bog.

I also packed an empty water bottle—after all, the mountain streams here are filled with some of the purest water in the world, so I refilled it along the way. For energy, I’d stocked up on generous portions of dried food and high-energy snacks, and at the bottom of my pack was the thermos with brewed coffee. That warm sip of coffee on a windy plateau isn’t just energy—it’s pure peace of mind.

Finally, in the side pocket, lay my most important source of security. A cell phone is great, but in the shadow of the mountains, the battery dies quickly in the cold and the signal disappears. That’s why I brought a paper mountain map and a wrist compass. They never let you down.

Flowing meltwater on the trail up to the bare mountain between Nuolja and Gohpascorru the reindeer herder's hut and the bridge that can no longer be used to cross the stream between Nuolja and Gohpascorru Gohpasjohka has rapids fed by meltwater between Gohpascorru and Nuolja

Encountering the Delta – Time to Rethink

My hike got off to a fantastic start with sunshine and warm weather. I hiked upward through the dramatic valley between Nuolja and Gohpasčorru and stopped to admire the waterfalls along the trail. But the higher I climbed, the clearer the sound became. A muffled, rumbling roar that grew with every step. There was an enormous amount of meltwater flowing, and the late snowfields up on the peaks were feeding the valley with massive amounts of water.

Soon I saw the little reindeer herder’s hut up ahead, but just before I reached it, I came to a sudden stop. The bridge, which is marked on the map and used to carry hikers safely across the stream, was gone—completely worn away by the immense forces of nature. I had no choice but to try to cross the stream on my own.

Before me now lay a gigantic, wide delta where the Gohpasjohka had overflowed its banks. The water had branched out into at least seven or eight streams, rapids, and roaring waterfalls. It was magically beautiful, but also deeply awe-inspiring. I realized immediately that I couldn’t just walk straight across. Instead, I began hiking along the delta to look for a safe spot.

the beginning of the delta between Nuolja and Gohpascorru a tent in a distant valley on a sunny day between Nuolja and Gohpascorru

An Important Decision

I walked for at least 2–3 kilometers along the winding, wild waterway, my gaze fixed on the streams the whole time, before I finally rounded a large rocky ridge where the terrain narrowed. The trail seemed to continue on the other side, but what had just seemed promising turned out to be a foaming, wild stream. The ice-cold water surged around the sharp rocks along the surface, and the current was incredibly strong.

I stopped. My heart was beating a little faster. I saw that I could make it halfway out over some slippery rocks, but the last step required a jump over a deep channel where the water was flowing most rapidly.

That’s when I remembered the most important rule of the mountains: There’s no shame in turning back. Nature always has the final say.

One false step here could have meant being swept away by the freezing-cold meltwater. I had already walked kilometers along the delta and the Gohpasjohka trail, and my body was starting to get tired. I took a deep breath and backed up two steps. That’s life in the mountains—you just have to accept it!

Instead of taking any chances, I pitched my tent right there by the delta. And wow, what a decision that was. Sitting on a dry rock, unscrewing the lid of my thermos, and sipping my hot drink while gazing out over the incredibly beautiful, wild water landscape was absolutely magical. By respecting the power of the mountains and trusting my preparations, the decision not to cross the stream wasn’t a failure—but the beginning of one of the most beautiful evenings in a tent I’ve ever had.