Drifting, the Artic, Swedish Lapland

'There are two kinds of rafting boats here in Lapland', says Roland.'The one where I drive with a great big paddle and this one, where you all paddle and I lie back in the boat and relax. I like this system best – the tourist does the work and I take the money'.

Roland is part Sami and knows the rive like the back of his hand. He says all this with a twinkle in his blue eyes and a twitch in his white moustache before dispensing a few gems of vital advice. For instance: if you fall in the rapids, make sure you go foot first with your head held up behind so you don¹t bash your brains on the rocks.'We¹ll get a rope to you so you won¹t get swept right away', he adds reassuringly.

We are somewhere in the middle of Europe¹s largest wilderness, half way up the Artic Circle in northern Sweden and I am about to try my hand at 'drifting¹ for the first time.

Here at 68 degrees latitude there are few roads cutting into the vast expanse of forest and after the ice unfreezes in late spring the best kind of travel is by water. In fact the whole of Swedish Lappland, home to the Sami and their reindeer, the settlers and the minerals they came prospecting for, is an outdoorsy, pioneering kind of place. Everyone goes hunting and fishing all year round.

The region boasts the biggest, least populated expanse of European nature. (258,000 people in 38600 square miles), the purest rivers fed by the polar ice cap above and some of the best fishing in the northern hemisphere. The waters are practically dancing with salmon, perch, pike and Arctic char. And if you come during the short but miraculous month or so during summer when the midnight sun reigns in the skies above you can potter about on the river to your heart¹s content in twenty four hour sunlight.

The water at the small village of Lannavaara, our launching point, is so calm that I begin to feel a little overdressed. We, the first timers, are encased from top to toe in several warm layers crowned by canary yellow waterproofs and forest green wellies, plus lifejackets you loop between your legs for extra security. The sun may shine round the clock here but the water is pretty cold at around 4 degrees C° and still very high as the snows are still melt further north.

Off we cruise lazily into mid stream, a sprinkling of red timber cabins receding gently into the distance. But before long the smooth flow of the water begins to give way to a more bumpy ride. We are entering the river proper, the Lainio, at this point as wide as a lake. With the wind whipping in our faces, the current is now racing us towards an ominous sound of roaring.

I remind my self I am only 'drifting¹ and try not to think too much about the first rapids which have just come into view, frothing and churning like angry valkeries.'Paddle' yells captain Roland. And we all paddle for our lives.'Paddle left', 'Paddle right', whatever Roland says we do our best to follow as the water comes slapping over the grey rubber sides. We survive our first rapid with a feeling of surprise and then a touch of embarrassment.In the international system of grading rapids for canoeing and rafting (that such a system exists is itself news to me) that was a mere number one rapid. in the scale of difficultly one to six.

We take a number two and a a couple more number ones before heading straight for the middle of a number three. Here the waves are much rougher and the troughs between them much deeper. We paddle fast but randomly, though we are supposed to keep the raft straight. The front section where I¹m sitting is up to my ankles in water and rising. Suddenly, from behind there is a commotion and no more instructions. I turn to see that we are captainless. Roland has gone overboard.

His wife Ines hauls him out almost as fast as he goes in. Roland takes his quick dip in good spirits and is too polite to mention that if we¹d done as instructed – and steered straight while he stood up to navigate the rapids ahead – he wouldn¹t be dripping wet now.

We pull the plug and drain the bottom of the boat when we stop for 'wilderness coffee¹ boiled on a forest fire and sausages roasted on silver birch spits we cut for ourselves. Roland wrings out his woollen socks and warms his numb toes.

By afternoon we are relaxed and feeling more confident. We scour the banks for bears and elk. Ducks fly in arrow formation in the bright blue sky. We take a few more number threes more or less in our stride, straighter and faster. We spin round a few times on a number two that catches us unawares but suffer no casualties.

A number four is splashing in the distance. 'The grand finale¹, as Roland put it in his pre-launch briefing. Even from a few hundred metres away I can see this really is the big one. We muster our new found confidence and head straight to the point where the two thick rows of churning water meet like an arrow. This rapid is significant enough to merit its own name. Temminkikoski seems easier because the raft dips down so low and bob up again so high that you can¹t really paddle. You simply go with the flow until you reach calmer waters again.

The day¹s journey ends on Roland¹s island where we eat smoked reindeer in his Sami teepee and hear tales of hunting & fishing, his grandfather the shaman and bad winters many years ago when food was scarce and Sami children were sold into slavery in Norway so they could eat. Around midnight Roland brings out his red accordian and plays folksongs by the fire.

Outside the blue sky is turning pink and purple above the fir trees. A whispy half moon hangs low to one side. By 2 am the glowing sun has moved further around the horizon and is bathing the river and forest in a golden light deeper and stronger than any English summer sun. Someone decides it¹s time for a sauna and goes to prepare the wood. Roland takes out some lines for fishing. Later in the morning, Roland tells us, we will carry on drifting down the river until we reach Lainio village.'Drifting?' I ask.'Yes, today was just a gentle ride on the river really'.

* * *

Lainio vildmark ( Lainio wilderness) runs drifting, canoes and fishing adventures on the River Lainio and elsewhere in Swedish Lappland. A 4-6 day drift, including transport to and from the river and all equipment, costs approximately £150. You sleep in riverside cabins and need to pay for your food.

Sally Ramsden
(From The Independent on Sunday)

About the author:
Sally Ramsden is a London-based freelance journalist and travel writer. She spent four years covering the Middle East conflict and is now busy exploring countries and cultures closer to home as well as more exotic parts. In the UK she contributes to The Independent on Sunday and The Daily Express newspapers, together with a wide range of magazines.