Storyline: Scandinavia
And so, after all the confusion and scramble to understand what was going on, as the previous post says, our arctic circle train was replaced by a bus. To Gällivare (pronounced something like Yēllivarey. I could never quite get it right – A) so far. Did I say earlier that the entire trip was planned around the Arctic Circle train? I even changed itinerary and schedules to fit it in. We had tickets for SJ train 96, from Boden to Narvik. The SJ website is not very helpful with intermediate stops or any current information. And since we didn’t have their app, I can’t say if the app would display all the stops either. But I am pretty sure Gällivare would have been one of the few stops. Otherwise, they wouldn’t send a bus there. As the first passengers, we had taken the balcony front row. The front seats of the second level of the double decker bus. The bus driver attached a garbage bag at every aisle armrest. Then he went to chat with the other bus driver. The two night-trains from Stockholm arrived after a 90- minute delay.
After all the passengers boarded the bus posing as a train, we finally departed just before 1pm. If it had been a train, it would have taken us over 7 hours to reach Narvik. We had no idea how long it would take now. The disconcerting fact was that the driver himself didn’t know anything about the plan beyond Gällivare. No, he could not continue. By then he would have done his hours and still would need to get back home. He is not allowed to work over his limit. “My job is to drop you off at Gällivare.” They must have pulled him from a tour bus, since he kept feeding us with information from the start. I wish I remembered it all.
He first proudly mentioned the steel mill that is based on green technology as we were passing by the sites. Even from our “first class balcony” seat we couldn’t see the mill. Then comes the tree hotel. It is inexpensive, the driver says, and an interesting experience.
Again, we only saw the entrance. The tree hotel is actually near the village of Harads, some 50km south of the arctic circle.
There was a well-known elk meat factory, just after the village. Worth visiting, he’d say. Road 97 is running by the Hedavan/Luleaven River. We pass by what they call “The English Channel”.
The driver tells us that in the 1800’s, two English investors decided to dig a canal to transport iron from the mines in the north down to Lulea harbour. They tried and almost came through, but eventually ran out of money and abandoned the idea. The railway was a better way for this. However, one could see remains of the canal in places, like where we cross the river.
As we are speeding (at the allowed speed of course) on rd. 97 the driver indicated that we were crossing the arctic circle. Unfortunately, because we were so late, he could not stop there.
He also tells us about the moving villages. They were building a series of dams on the river. As they were building a dam, they built temporary village for the workers and their families. The wives would do the farming and looking after the house while the lumberjacks and hydrogenic dam builders work at the dams. And before they moved the workers to the next work place they’d build another village. Workers will move and the village will stay. However, I guess because of remoteness all but the last village, which is still inhabited, eventually died. That was what we remember he telling us. Since then, I found more information in the Jokkmokk Market site.
“Temporary towns such as Harsprånget and Messaure existed for a number of intensive years while dams were being built. When everything was completed, the houses were taken down, sold or moved to another facility.”
As we approached Jokkmokk he tells us its story. The market itself has a four hundred years of history. The crown decided to basically baptise the indigenous Sami people in the area. They built a church (in fact they built many, but we are talking Jokkmokk here) and the Sami were obliged to visit it at least during the market time.
This is because the church didn’t have a permanent pastor. He’d travel from market to market. Here in Canada, we call them trading posts. The Sami didn’t mind the church. The crown bureaucrats would go back to Stockholm since it was way too cold up there.
And the Samis would revert to their traditional ways and beliefs for the rest of the year. At the time, the Sami people would trade reindeer meat, leather and fish. The winter market these days draws thousands of handcrafts, made by the Sami people, food stalls and live music. It is held for 3 days starting the first Wednesday of February. In 2024 that market attracted over 48,000 visitors.
Close to Gällivare, the driver received good news. There will be 2 busses waiting for us. One to Kiruna and one to Narvik. “Make sure you board the right bus”, he says. We didn’t see much of Gällivare, a small arctic town some 100km north of the arctic circle.
What strikes me is how empty, yet well maintained the roads are. One lane each direction, no shoulders, rarely a place to pull off for a small car. Many here in the North use public transport. Yet the road is so well maintained. At the roundabout in Jokkmokk we leave Rd 97 and continue on a major highway E45. In front of us is the second bus that left Boden. An occasional campervan. Rarely a car. And there are more people living in Northern Scandinavia than in Northern Canada.
At the stop Alex waits for the suitcases and I go find the right bus. There of course were only two. I asked and then boarded the Narvik bus. It was close to 4PM. No, I don’t have time to go to the WC a “manager” of a sort who was in the bus tells me. But I can use the bus one.
So I did. Meanwhile Alex apparently was looking for me. He saw the backpacks at the seats, but I wasn’t there. So off he goes to find the toilets and me. By Alex’s time in the bus, the “manager” has left and the bus driver had told him it was OK to visit the WC. There would be many other people there too.
Once all was sorted out and everyone was on board we departed for Narvik. It is after 4pm and we still have a long way to go. This driver doesn’t talk at all. He tuns his radio quietly and drive. We soon take E10 towards Kiruna. The scenery everywhere so far has been fantastic. But approaching the mountains it is spectacular.
We had 5 min to stretch our legs at Kiruna train station. Looking around there was nothing in walking distance from this station. It was either on a steep downhill or on a steep uphill.
Glad I had to cancel our accommodation there. I don’t believe there would have been Uber either. As I write this post, I read that they are relocating the entire city because of the mining activities creating unstable ground.
Again, the buses stop at the train stations since they are supposed to be the train. The lady next to us on the other side of the bus was an environmental scientist (many years ago, I was too).
She was going home to Abisco, close to the Norwegian border although she worked in Uppsala and “commuted” weekly on the overnight train to Boden, connecting with the Narvik train.
The bus drops her off at the Abisco train station and continues. The scenery here is coldly beautiful. The mountains, the frozen lakes, the deciduous trees or sooner bushes just waking up for the short summer ahead.
Photos from the windows are not that good because of the sun and reflections. But they remind me of that brutal but unspoiled landscape.
As we cross the border at Bjørnfjell and say goodbye to Sweden we enter a totally different landscape. (The last Swedish town is actually Riksgränsen and that’s where we’d cross the border had we been on the train. The road goes a bit north of there, quite north actually and then joins the rails at Narvik.)
Suddenly the scenery outside changed. I thought it was in my mind, but now looking at the photos it is very different.
As though someone cut it with a knife. Rocks and moss, but no trees. Until we drove a bit down the road, closer to Narvik.
In Narvik the bus driver first stops at the train station. He could have left us there, but he asked us all which hotel we are staying at. A few of us were at hotel Skandik.
There were a few younger folks staying in a hostel near the train station. And one other hotel. The bus driver dropped us off at the door of the hotel. That was really a nice gesture after such a long day.
At 9pm we were in our room. Alex ran to find the nearest pizzeria as I unpacked our carry-ons.
And so, Carina, we made it that day all the way to Narvik. It was a long day. But you were right, they delivered us to our destination.
I like your travelogue.
Thanks Rupali!