Hitchhiking Lapland Part III - The Heart Of Sápmi


There is only one road going deeper into Lapland, towards Kautokeino, a small town and traditional meeting place of the Sámi, who were once nomadic. It begins to rain as Tarja and her teenage daughter invite me into their cozy car. Originally from Trondheim, they’re on a geocaching road trip and sleep in the back of their pick-up. On an open mountain plain, under crooked dwarf birches, we seek for a cache. It’s raining heavily but their cheerful spirit is contagious.
80 kilometers later Tarja buys us hot dogs at a gas station. They drop me off at the Pallas-Yllästunturi National Park and we hug goodbye. Tarja gives me their address in Trondheim and asks me to send a postcard when I’m back in Germany. And she hands me something else, a chocolate bar: “When you’re cold and tired and feel like you can't go on, eat this."


Some animal sound scares me a bit as I explore the area around my tent. I slip and my boots get soaked. A spare pair of socks and plastic bags that I pull over my feet save me.
The next day the weather hasn't changed. After two hours waiting in pouring rain, an old couple has mercy on me. I get to sit between them in the front of their van. The lovely old lady is eager to communicate with the little English she knows and wants to learn all about me. She proudly translates whatever she can to her husband, who replies with nods and mumbles. We see a cow elk and my excitement amuses the couple.


Lapland is so remote it has its own unique culture. I meet an old man who has worked in the mines around Kiruna. The country borders often have little meaning to the people who live up here, he tells me. One example of the merging cultures is meiänkieli – “our language” – a Finnish dialect which developed in the valley of the river Torne and now belongs to Sweden's official minority languages.


Of course there are also people living here who came from far away. A man with a pick-up gives me a ride outside Pajala. The car is loaded with boxes of fruit and vegetables. Unfortunately we don't have much of a common language but I understand that he's originally from Thailand. He is friendly but seems very confused when I ask him to let me out at a random place so I can pitch my tent for the night. He wants to drive me further until we reach a town or a campground. Finally I can convince him that it's okay to just drop me off and leave. I'm relieved, although in hindsight I'm sure he meant well. I'm moved by the huge bunch of bananas he urges me to accept.


I felt quite safe with all of the people who gave me a lift. With Mikael though, a Swedish construction worker, I truly feel like being with an old friend. Time flies by as he drives me 400 kilometers across Sweden, passing Jokkmokk, a town right at the Arctic Circle.
We say goodbye and the spontaneous hug I give him brings a tear to his eye.


One morning I brush my teeth in the bathroom of a beautiful wooden church in Arvidsjaur. In this area you can find the fastest rapids of Scandinavia. A guy picks me up
and shows me a huge dam of the power company Vattenfall. The deep forests seem endless.


As I’m coming down south and get closer to bigger towns, the traffic naturally increases enormously. On the highways it gets harder to hitch rides and some people even seem a little suspicious of me. Even though I’m still in Lapland, it’s a very different vibe. I miss the lonely roads and the abundance of space. The slow pace and the helpfulness of people.
When I strand in Luleå, the biggest town of Swedish Lapland, I feel out of place. So many people and cars and I don’t know where to camp.  
For the first time during my journey I feel lonely and overwhelmed.
I spend the night in a hostel and decide to try the highways again the next day.


My hitchhiking journey ends in a border town between Sweden and Finland. The town is so small that people turn their heads as they see me with my big backpack. Everything looks a little shabby in the evening light. A small orthodox church, the local pub, paint peeling from the wooden houses.
I decide to celebrate the end of my trip and enter a pizza place. Feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of some guys, I leave as soon as I receive my order.

Standing on a bridge over the great river Torne, I devour my reindeer pizza. Soon the sky will turn dark blue. Slowly I walk down to the riverbank to find a camping spot. Tomorrow morning I'll catch a bus to Helsinki, soon I have to fly back to Germany.
Happiness washes over me. The incredible vastness of Lapland, the crazy experiences, and - most of all - the wonderful people I met.
They will stay with me, always.



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