Lives of Wander

Theresa January 7th, 2009

We survived. My brother Gregory, Jeff, and I have made our pilgrimage to Machu Picchu, the sacred site of the Quechua people* and returned to Cusco, more or less intact.

This past summer, Jeff and I hiked somewhere around 500 miles. More than once, we hiked over 20 miles in one day, and then woke up the next day to do it again. I wouldn’t say it was fun and I wouldn’t say it was easy, but it wasn’t killer. The hike to Machu Picchu by way of the classic Inca Trail is about 26 miles long, and it’s done over the course of four days. Sounds not too bad right?

Ha. Think again. The Inca Trail is hard. This is no stroll in the park, no walk in the woods. This is a long, hard haul at extremely high elevation. You begin at 2,600 meters. (That’s 8,528 feet for those of you who can’t figure out the metric system.) By the first night, you are at 3,100 meters (10,137 feet). That’s twice the elevation of Denver, which many of us Americans consider to be high and hard on the lungs. On the second day, you ascend to 4,200 meters (13,776 feet). You go up a lot. But it’s not just uphill. You also go downhill…hard and fast…and then go back uphill all over again. The ground is rough, much of it paved with uneven stones. Sometimes the only thing on the side of the trail is a steep drop off. And being the rainy season, creeks spill over the trail, stones become slippery, and rivers rage. The Inca Trail is not for the faint of heart.

But it’s difficulties are balanced by its rewards. On the first day, you pass local people in traditional dress, working the land and living the way they have for hundreds of years.

Every day magnificent scenery surrounds you…sheer mountains that seem to rise straight from the earth, snow-capped peaks, waterfalls, cloud forest jungle, and because it’s the rainy season thousands of orchids, bromelids, and other flowers.

And you don’t have to wait until you get to Machu Picchu to see Incan ruins, as there are many ruins along the way: small sites that served as resting spots, larger sites that astronomers used to predict the best times for planting and harvest, and a variety of other impressive ruins where pilgrims to Machu Picchu stopped five hundred years ago.

All in all, we had a fabulous time. Our group of 12—aside from a whiny Canadian couple—was good, our guides were knowledgeable and encouraging, the food was plentiful and pretty tasty, the tents warm, the porters amazing, and the weather surprisingly good for the heart of rainy season. And Machu Picchu, well, it was definitely worth the work.

Check back tomorrow for a day by day break-down of the trip, along with some more photos. And yes, we know that we have not yet posted anything about our first few adventures prior to the Inca Trail. We will take some time and rewind back to that after we enjoy our last few days with Gregory.

*It’s incorrect to refer to the people as Incas. There was only one Inca—the king.

• Peru , South America , Sweden
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Jeff September 11th, 2008

As Theresa alluded to in the last post, the first island we went to was Möja.  It also happened to be the largest, furthest away from Stockholm, and most populated island we went to (though certainly not any of the above for the entire Swedish archipelago).  It was a combination of these three things that made it my favorite of the trio of islands we visited.

The island was large enough to contain three freshwater lakes, which were advertised to us as “warm, you can swim for at least 10-15 minutes in it” a notion we found laughable after touching the water with our hands.  But what appealed to me most was the sense that this was a small community.  In fact, it was many small communities, with collections of 20-30 houses in villages dotting the island.  There were no roads to some, only a path through the woods to a different harbor, a different jetty.  Where there were gravel roads, ATVs or bicycles were the vehicles of choice, we saw only two cars and our host at the hostel lamented they were becoming more common.

Around 300 people lived there year round; there was a school (up to the 9th grade).  A local youth group showed movies and hosted dances at the dance hall and and converted their youth center into the hostel that we stayed at.  At church that was built in the 17th century on the south end of the island, the cemetery contained the graves of several generations of Möja residents.

While fishing was once a primary industry in the archipelago (and likely for many of those whose graves we passed), today, only one man makes his living fishing professionally out of the whole of 30,000 islands.  He lives on Möja and his family runs Wikstroms Fisk restuarant.  The menu changes every day based upon what Mr. Wikstrom is able to catch.  We dined there and while simplely prepared, the fish was delicious, fresh as can be.

All of these things really culminated in a very pleasant experience.  The rain and the dreary conditions even seemed to add to the atmosphere, the idea that islands like this are supposed to have weather like this.  All in all, I’m glad we spent the most time on Möja as it really had the most to offer.

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Theresa September 9th, 2008

Jutting up from the waters of the Baltic, off the coast of Stockholm, are more than 30,000 islands, rocks, and skerries. Collectively these two-billion-old rock formations make up the archipelago, a favorite holiday retreat of Swedes. Only a few hearty, independent, and ultimately extremely flexible souls live on these islands year-round—many populations number in the tens, populations that reach into the hundreds are rare—but in the summer, mainland residents flock to the archipelago, to bathe in the always cold waters of the Baltic, take a dip in slightly warmer inland lakes, sail from isle to isle, and generally just relax in a place where the pace of life is slow and all the extraneous detail of modern life is eliminated.

We missed summer by a few weeks (though we’ve heard summer was a bit disappointing this year), so we arrived to islands that were transitioning toward the sleepy time of year, when the sea freezes over with ice thick enough to ski and skate across and darkness hangs like a veil. That summer was ending was undeniable. The bright blue seas and skies that appear in brochure photos were already a memory. Instead periwinkle painted over the landscape—the sky, the sea, and the granite rocks were all a shade of purplish-gray. The sun was tucked away under thick clouds. And for two of the three days, a steady mist fell, crescendoing up into heavy rain for brief stretches before lapsing back into a sprinkle.

It was enough to make the other guests at our hostel stay inside. But us? Well we’re not sweet enough to melt.

And we had some hiking to do.

Apparently the 400+ miles we hiked this summer didn’t satiate us. When we read about something called boat hiking we knew that’s what we’d be doing in the archipelago. For 340 SEK (under $60), we got a pass that was good for 5 days (though we only used it for 3) that allowed us to hop whichever boats we liked between various islands. It also came with a map and suggested itineraries that laid out how one could arrive at an island, hike across or around it, then leave the island either via row boat or ferry to continue on to another island. Three major routes were outlined—northern, middle, and southern. We chose the middle because not only did it seem most interesting to us, but it also minimized the amount of time we would spend on the ferry. The route itself is rather extensive, so we picked and chose from it, deciding on four islands: Moja, Ingmarso, Finnhamn, and Gallno (I’m missing some umlauts in the spellings, but I can’t figure them out at the moment).

On Ingmarso and Finnhamn, which we visited on day two, we experienced the truest form of boat hiking. Around 2 p.m., our ferry pulled into the jetty of South Ingmarso, and we disembarked. Our goal for the afternoon was to walk just over 3 kilometers along the southern part of Ingmarso, row ourselves across the sea from Ingmarso to nearby Finnhamn, and then continue hiking a few more kilometers across Finnhamn to a hostel perched above the sea.

But first we needed a map, so we popped in the restaurant at the jetty (one of the few places in the archipelago open on a Sunday afternoon in the low season), where a kind waitress photocopied one for us and sent us on our way. We began by walking through a predominantly pine forest, where mushrooms sprung from the ground and were hunted like treasure by multiple mushroom pickers we passed. I kept half expecting a tomte (a mythical creature from Scandinavian folklore that strongly resembles the Travelocity gnome) to pop out and greet us, but alas that didn’t happen.

As we continued along the boat hiker’s trail, I took to calling it the “Jesus path” because of the small sign that, along with blue blazes, marked the way.

After a bit of forest hiking, we emerged alongside a field where two horses grazed idly.

We then entered into a field, following a trampled path through a meadow full of rams. In Sweden, allemansratten—the right of public access—entitles you to cross privately owned land so long as you are respectful (and don’t let the rams out). Apparently, the rams here not only are unfazed by strangers entering their grazing grounds but also rather enjoy it. It seems other hikers must feed the rams as they pass through, because instead of scattering away from us, they flocked to us sniffing at our pockets and our bags. Being not much of an animal person, I have to say I didn’t like it much, as I was just waiting for one of them to rear up and show us what those horns are for.

Nearing the end of Ingmarso, we took a break at a nature preserve, where a small boat house was painted the typical burgundy-red of most every building in the archipelago.

Upon reaching the tip of Ingmarso, we loaded our gear into a small rowing boat, and Jeff rowed us across to Finnhamn. While I sat with the gear, he then rowed back to Ingmarso, towing the row boat that had been on the other side, so that each island has one boat and people are able to cross regardless of which direction they’re coming from. It’s a remarkable system that impressed both of us…not simply because of how well it worked but because of how it is possible to just leave a boat tied up under no one’s guard and know that it will not be stolen or vandalized. I’m not sure that would happen in the U.S.

Once Jeff made it back to Ingmarso, we set off hiking again, through a mixed forest of pine and aspen.

Arriving at the hostel at 5 p.m., we grabbed the keys to our cute little private cabin, and then enjoyed the view. We could have complained about the lack of blue skies, but why bother. It was beautiful nonetheless.

(Check back later in the week, as we’ll post more pictures and stories from our other two days in the archipelago.)

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Theresa September 7th, 2008

Currently, Jeff and I are out enjoying Sweden’s archipelago, visiting three tiny islands in a matter of three days. (You know us, we can’t stay in one place for too long.) We’re hoping to come back with good stories and great photos, but we didn’t want to leave you high and dry while we’re gone. What’s a Sunday evening without a Lives of Wander post?

So here are a few nice photos of Jeff nailing his thesis, which he did on Friday afternoon, thereby taking the last step before his actual defense on September 26. He didn’t challenge the pope or rail on about indulgences in his “Recessive Parkinsonism, Mitochondria, and Translational Regulation,” but he looked just a bit Martin Luther-like as he hammered his thesis up in the library of Karolinska Institute. I’m not sure this particular thesis will have quite the world-changing effect of good ol’ Martin Luther’s, but hey, Luther was nearly 34 when he nailed his famous 95-Thesis to the door of Wittenburg’s Castle Church, so just give Jeff seven years. Then, look out world.

He started out nailing it gently with a smile, and then started whacking the heck out of it, as you can see by the hammer action and the concentrated look on his face.

Showing off the final work with his mentor Lars to his right and me on his left.

We celebrate the fact that his thesis is now nailed to the library wall with a little bubbly.

Most of Jeff’s lab came out to support him (or at least to partake in the free food and drink).

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Jeff September 4th, 2008

Thanks for all the voting so far … keep em coming, we need to know, Riga or Tallinn?

As many of you know, and as many of you don’t know, today was my birthday.  I’m finally the same age as Theresa again (for another six months) and, well, thats about all the benefits I see about being a year older any more.  In years past it was driving, then voting, then drinking, then … renting a car.  No longer, nothing more gained but another tick off the clock.  But today was quite a special day for another reason.

Its official!  I wrote a book!  Now I nail it to the wall tomorrow (ala Martin Luther) and then wait three weeks to defend it against all who dare to criticize me =).  The process is almost complete!

The best part of my birthday though, was our dinner this evening.  We headed to Kungsholmen, a restaurant I had heard about as being very unique, lively and delicious.  The voices that told me this were certainly right.

Kungsholmen has seven different “bars” – really cooking stations set up on the sides of the restaurant.  Each one contributes six elements to the menu, and they vary widely.  There is a sushi bar, a salad bar, a soup bar, a bread bar, a grill bar, a bistro bar, an ice cream bar and a cocktail bar.  I ordered the Moroccan lamb chops off the grill menu while Theresa ordered the tuna burger with wasabi sauce off the bread menu.  Both of our meals were absolutely delicious, my chops perfectly spicy with sides of fried mashed potatoes and yogurt covered cucumbers and Theresa’s tuna lightly seared aside an open faced burger and an almost guacamole-ish wasabi sauce.

The atmosphere itself was also something to behold as the waiters and waitresses shuttled between these various bars while still maintaining an eye on their customers – truly an impressive feat.

Yet at the same time, it wasn’t like a lot of restaurants where they go for the busy vibe but you can’t even hear yourself think.  It was an active environment that you could still have a cozy conversation in – a rare balance.

Anyway, you may be able to tell from my comments that I left the restaurant duly impressed.  It certainly is not the cheapest place in town, but if you find yourself in Stockholm, check it out.  What other restaurants out there have you been to that have impressed you equally well?  Bonus points for bargains!

• Food , Sweden
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Theresa August 31st, 2008

Put one foot down. Then pick up the other and move it forward. Repeat. Again. Again. Keep your eyes open. Don’t let your eyes linger closed when they blink. It is indeed possible to fall asleep while standing up. But don’t do it. You might fall down. Keep your eyes open. Put one foot down. Now, move the other.

Last night I flew across the Atlantic, tearing through a sky that bled shades of red I have found on no earthly palette, continuing on after the sun dipped into an infinite horizon, the plane now cloaked in black as deep as sin. As morning rose, and clouds appeared as thick as summer cotton, me so desperately wishing I could feel the clouds pass through my fingers, I flew on, touching down in Stockholm as the sun rose on the last Sunday of August 2008.

My mission for the day: stay awake. Do whatever it takes to make it to nighttime without sleeping. Force myself to adopt a new time in a new place.

There is only one way for me to do this, and that is to walk. Walk and walk and walk.

So we walk over a busy bridge and past shops that have not yet opened on this not-quite-summer, not-quite-autumn Sunday morning. We walk past the city library, where people are actually lined up waiting for the doors to welcome them in at noon. We walk through a sprinkle of rain falling from perfectly sunny skies. We walk past churches with glittering gold domes and doors that crack open to reveal snatches of deep organ music. We walk through a playground, where kids giggle contagiously as they jump on mini trampolines built into the ground.

We pause at a kebab shop for a quick lunch, scarfing down a doner, but not sitting one minute beyond the last bite because that one minute could cause me to fail at my mission.

We walk to a tech store and while Jeff buys a broadband network card, I walk laps around the cell phone displays. We walk through a market, me continuing past old army outfits and antique cameras while Jeff stops and buys tomatoes and photographs a fountain whose figures seem to hold their hands in defensive postures, as if trying to protect themselves from the pigeons that use them as perches. We walk past a T.G.I. Friday’s, where waiters in their mandatory flair take orders from diners seated on a patio. We walk toward the undulating sound of Middle Eastern music, and then walk around an Iraqi cultural festival. We walk past details–a lion’s head door knocker on the entrance to a vocational school, a secret staircase tucked neatly in-between two tall buildings, a sculptured security gate displaying jesters and numbers outside a bank.

In a brave moment, we break at a cafe to drink hot chocolate from tall glasses in a comfy corner booth, but we forces ourselves up before the warmth of the drink can settle in my belly and pull my eyelids down like shades.

We walk through the bottom floor of a department store, past displays of delicate pastries and fragile glass. We take a lap around a gallery, where the art is at best an attempted flattery of other, better art. We walk into an auction house, and keeping our hands forcefully in our pockets, we wander amidst those bidding on early twentieth-century furniture and decorative objects that my untrained eye mistakes for junk. We walk into the supermarket and down aisles of cheeses and breads and a surprisingly broad selection of Asian food. We walk home, market bag now full of food, dinner for the next few nights in hand. We walk to Jeff’s lab, and I walk up and down the hallway trying to read Swedish cartoons while Jeff speaks with his mentor. We walk to what is now home–a small studio in a seven-story building. We two-step in the tiny kitchen, and then walk back and forth between the table and the bed as our pasta dinner cooks.

And then, finally, we stop walking. We sit. We eat. We watch the sun set out our windows, the clouds wisps of navy against a turquoise sky, the tall pines nothing more than dark shadows. I have made it. Nighttime is here. My mission is accomplished. I can quit walking. I can now, finally, sleep.

• Sweden
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Jeff August 27th, 2008

Following up on Theresa’s post about useful things abroad, here’s what I’m missing over here.  Since we’re here for six weeks in the same apartment, this is obviously a different list than the backpacking standard list.  Theresa, don’t forget these things when you come =).  So here I am, less than a week into my stay in Stockholm, and already I’m finding many things I wish I had brought with me.  Now, this is no disaster, since Theresa is coming this weekend and can save me on some of these things and Sweden is a developed nation and I have been able to purchase everything I needed, but it definitely could have saved me some money.

1. My travel towel – I left this with the RTW stuff and didn’t bring it here, assuming (incorrectly) that linens would be included where we are staying.  Lesson learned, always keep this close by … as many of you have already discovered.

2. Umbrella – How silly of me to come to Stockholm without an umbrella.  It’s drizzled/rained steadily for three of the five days I’ve been here, and twice I’ve had to lug myself back from the store, soaking myself and my cargo.  An umbrella would’ve been useful.  And oddly, they did not have them at the store either time.

3. Rug holding mats – This one I don’t think anyone could’ve seen coming, not that we had any to leave behind to start with.  There’s a rug on our linoleum floor that flows so easily across the floor,it slips every time I step on it and I almost fall on my ass.  Something must be done, but the concept of rug securing pads has apparently not reached Stockholm (even though they have many more linoleum floors covered by rugs), as I have seen no such product anywhere.  Maybe the good folks at IKEA have something this weekend.  Alternatively, I guess I could just take the rug up for my own safety, but that just makes a starkly bland room even less colorful.

4. Fitted bed sheets – Fitted sheets are just so much better than the flat undersheets common here.  We also need our own flat topsheet.  Even though I have my sleep sheet to take care of me now, I’m counting on Theresa to bring these over.  I’m just accustomed to my american bed stylings and don’t sleep nearly as well otherwise.  Jet lag doesn’t help with these things either.

5. Multi-outlet power strip – We have too many electronics!  But they all have North American plugs.  So we a multi-outlet power strip to plug into our travel adapter so we can plug in our american gadgets (if this is a bad idea/dangerous, please let me know in the comments!)

• Non-RTW Travel , Sweden
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Jeff May 20th, 2008

You may have noticed Theresa carrying a disproportionate share of the writing on LOW and myself conspicuosly absent over the last three weeks. Contrary to what you may be thinking, this was not due to Theresa locking me up in the basement and not letting me out. Instead, I was sitting in the dungeon at work, furiously working away at the microscope. Then I was furiously typing away at my last two manuscripts. My life has consisted of work, work, eat, work, hike, work and sleep in the few extra hours.

But I am happy to announce that I have completed my thesis application (as opposed to the actual thesis … there’s still a long way to go, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves). This includes drafts of all the papers I plan to include in my thesis, my ethical permits and committee members, and date and place of defense. Very thorough. I sent it to my mentor in Sweden today, and then we went out for a few beers and a delicious Five Guys hamburger with far too many fries. Best burgers around – they’re a delicious local DC chain that is now expanding fast, so look for one near you. And I didn’t even get a free burger for that plug.

Anyway, back on topic, after Lars gets the requisite signatures, it will be sent to the committee to render a decision on whether I will be defending in September. So this and the next couple of weeks are an important checkpoint on our current timetable, here’s to hoping the Swedes like what they read in my application and we get the green light for my defense and thus our subsequent journey.

P.S. All of this work is also why I’m not as far on our budget planning as I would like to be, but don’t worry, the follow up to my Straw Poll will be coming up soon.

• Sweden , Work
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Jeff March 24th, 2008

Wednesday morning I took the bus back to Kiruna, checked back into my hospital, and hopped on a bus over to Jukkasjärvi, home to the famous Ice Hotel. The outside was less impressive than I would’ve thought. I guess I was expecting to see a gigantic ice city rising out of the river. Those were probably unrealistic expectations. Instead, it was a gigantic ice city with a regular set of support buildings completely surrounding it. Not as dramatic an appearance.

But the inside was far more impressive than I ever imagined. I’ll just let the pictures speak for themselves.

The rooms were amazing (each of these photos, save the last one, is an art suite). The central hall in the last photo was an endless hallway of ice sculptures. The next highlight was the Absolut Icebar, also in the hotel. I had to check it out and have a drink. I can’t remember what they called my drink, but it was Absolut with Lingonberry Juice. Quite tasty, a delicious color, and drinking out of an ice glass makes all the difference.

And while it was all so cool, I couldn’t find any reason to actually stay here. I could just pay an entrance fee during the day and walk through the entire hotel, every room. Then I could go back and sleep in my warm, cozy room. Or I could pay a lot more, have to deal with other people walking through my room all day, and then freeze all night. It just doesn’t add up. But I’m glad enough people want to do it that they can building them, because it is truly a sight worth seeing.

Here’s where I maybe got a little crazy. I decided to walk to the airport the next morning, about 5 miles, for my flight leaving at 6:50 AM. Given the circumstances, it was a little nuts, but the reasons were two fold:

1) I still hadn’t seen any northern lights and this was my absolute last shot.

2) A 5 mile taxi ride would’ve cost me ~$60. I don’t know any where in the world that is that expensive. London maybe?

Anyway, after staying awake until midnight looking in vain out both sides of the building to the sky for any signs of green or red, I arose at 3:30 AM, donned four layers and my backpack, and headed out into the cold. While I was immediately hopeful about the faint light to the east, I quickly realized it was the earliest hints of the sun. I was already out of luck, no northern lights. The biggest goal of my trip was a bust. So sorry guys, no northern lights pictures out of me. But to quell the uprising, here’s some.

So there was nothing to do now but just keep walking, I was already up with time to get to the airport and I sure wasn’t paying the $60 for now a 4 mile ride. I guess I’m just stubborn like that. It actually wasn’t a bad walk at all, it wasn’t too cold (though I think my four layers of clothing had a lot to do with that) and I got to see a gorgeous sunrise. There were three things I found funny on my walk:

1) I actually passed a guy about halfway there in the middle of nowhere. And he just walked by, as if he saw crazy foreigners with backpacks walking out of town every day at 4 AM. My “hej” wasn’t even answered.

2) The last two kilometers were along the airport access road, that only went to the airport. Even so, no one stopped to offer a ride. I hadn’t expected anyone to, and at that point in my odyssey, I probably would’ve turned them down, but I did find the whole thing kind of funny.

3) This awesome sign at the airport. It tells you where to park your dogsleds.

So with that, my trip came to an end. To do a quick “Take Two” type recap:

Highlights: dogsledding, Ice Hotel

Lowlights: no northern lights

Lessons Learned: hospitals can be cheap and nice places to stay, trains can be simpler and cheaper than flights+taxis+hotels (it took me the same amount of time to get to Abisko in the end and it would’ve been cheaper on the train), and northern lights are hard to see

• Non-RTW Travel , Sweden
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Jeff March 23rd, 2008

The trip began with a short flight from Stockholm to Kiruna. We landed in what I consider heavy snow, which had me a bit concerned. I guess they thought nothing of it, because everything went off without a hitch. After the taxi ride into town, I arrived at the hospital … yes, the hospital. After much consternation about where to stay because the hostels were fully booked, I found out that the hospital has a “Lilla Hotelet,” which I’m pretty sure I don’t need to translate for you. Better yet, it was far cheaper, and I soon found out, far better equipped than a hostel. So I walked into the ER at midnight and said (in my best broken Swedish) I needed to pick up my key for my room. I got a room to myself, with a TV and own bathroom.

After a restful evening, I made my way down toward the train station through central Kiruna, walking beside 10 foot snow drifts and through the 8 inches that had fallen overnight. Here’s some context.

There was a whole park full of snow sculptures, most of them odder than this, and those kids are standing on top of a mountain of snow. It was definitely a different world. And it was still snowing.

After warming up at the train station, I was ready to head to Abisko Mountain Station, the self proclaimed best place in the world to see Aurora Borealis. This claim (I think) is made based on their geographical location in a rain shadow beneath a canyon. As such, they get more clear nights than nearly any other populized area in the Arctic Circle. At least this is what they tell me. I certainly wasn’t being convinced by the weather as I got there.

Yup, that’s the sun trying to poke through. And the snow was still coming. And even though it wasn’t looking too promising, I decided to chance it and buy a ticket up to the Abisko Sky Station that night, since it was the last night they were planning on opening. And in retrospect, I don’t know why they even opened it, because when I went up there in the evening here’s what I saw.

Yep, not much. The lights are where I was staying, but even they were a rare appearance from the sky station on this night. So needless to say, there was no chance of looking up and seeing anything. So I spent my time taking some pictures of the cafe/sky station. It’s not very big, but its quaint. Let me also say there is something very unnerving about a complete white out. Riding up on the chair, the clouds were so thick, I couldn’t even see the chair in front of me, and the ground below me was completely white. It was like a sensory deprivation tank, only not black. Very peculiar feeling.

The next morning I hopped on the train to Björkliden, a ski area 5 miles away. I had thought about trying telemark skiing or alpine touring, but in the end couldn’t resist good ole downhill. Like a typical spoiled American skier, I was annoyed at the T-bar pulling lifts (seriously, up here Gondola’s should be a must!), and no goggles + light snow = difficulty seeing, but other than that the skiing was great. I quickly found my favorite runs and spent all day on them (with copious stops into the Snöbar for hot chocolate and to warm up). On one such stop, I noticed a sign for trying a dogsled. How could I resist! I signed up and walked over and met Andreas and his many dogs. He quickly showed me how to hit the brakes, and then he got to harnessing Björk, Lare, Wilmer and Kim. They are sweet looking dogs, mainly Alaskan husky (to handle the cold) and pointer (to run forever) mixes for those of you who know your dog breeds. For sledding dogs, they had a really hard time grasping the concept at first. But in no time I looked like a pro.

Now, looking like a pro doesn’t mean I drove like a pro, I did skid out and tip over on one turn. Driving those things is not as easy as it seems. And I don’t know what Survivorman was talking about on his show where he was in the Arctic dogsledding, as soon as I was off the sled the dogs stopped. I got back on and all was well (the whole time Andreas was ahead of us in his snowmobile, so it’s not as if I was going to get lost or anything). It was great fun though, I think I may try to run the Iditarod one of these days =).

That evening, my last at Abisko, I headed out with my camera after dark determined to see some northern lights. At least this night was somewhat clear, though clouds and occasional snow still passed through. I strained my eyes looking in all directions, lasting about two hours outside in the cold, through the peak auroral zone time of 10:30 I had heard about the night before. I even arose and headed back out when I saw it was clear at 1:30 AM. Never did I see anything, which was highly disappointing. It would all come down to the last night back in Kiruna. In all my time spent looking though, I did manage some pretty neat pictures of the night sky.

Here’s some more pictures from Abisko that don’t fit into the narrative for you to enjoy.

Part 3 comes tomorrow, the dramatic conclusion to my trip. I visit the Ice Hotel, and get a little crazy in my quest to see the northern lights. Stay tuned!

• Non-RTW Travel , Sweden
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