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Abisko – Čuonjávággi – Abisko 2026

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Inspired by last year’s May mountain hike, I headed back to the Abisko Alps to practice (spring) winter hiking. This time, I headed for the fells right at the beginning of May, hoping there would be more snow than the previous year. I still don’t have a sled, so I had to pack everything into my backpack. To keep the backpack’s weight reasonable, I brought only one pair of skis.

Thursday, April 30, 2026: Travel by car to Kolari, where spend the night.

Abisko – Čuonjávággi

Friday, May 1, 2026 I woke up at 6 a.m. and, after breakfast, set off by car toward Abisko. The trip went smoothly, and by 10 a.m. I was in the parking lot at the Abisko Turist train station. I packed a few more items into my backpack and the pockets of my jacket. Just in case, I slipped a half-liter bottle of Coke into my pocket. The weather was warm, 8 degrees Celsius, cloudy, but no rain and not much wind. There was no snow in sight in the immediate area, so I had to carry my skis in my hands. Choosing the right skis had been on my mind all winter; I had been debating between actual mountain skis, OAC XCD GT gliding snowshoes , and a pair of homemade mountain skis of sorts. Mountain skis would have required bringing BC boots, and in addition to the boots, I would have needed another pair of shoes, since the boots are hard to walk in. The gliding snowshoes, on the other hand, were annoyingly prone to slipping sideways and felt unstable when I tried them out on packed snow in the winter. So, I settled on DIY mountain skis—specifically, 175 cm-long slalom skis from the ’90s, to which I had attached OAC 1.0 snowshoe bindings. For footwear, I wore Salomon Toundra winter boots; I had already skied in them during the winter and found them to be good and warm.

I set out on the Paddus Naturstigen trail; my backpack weighed about 23 kg, my skis probably 2–3 kg, and the Coca-Cola 0.5 kg. I was prepared for the late-winter cold of the polar region, so in addition to my base layer, I was wearing fleece pants, shell pants, and a shell jacket, with a beanie on my head and warm work gloves on my hands. The cold didn’t really hinder my progress, especially as the weather gradually became sunnier. There was no water available in the terrain; the lakes along the trail were frozen, so I drank Coca-Cola. There wasn’t a single patch of snow deep enough to ski on. After Báddosdievvá, there were a couple of deep snow areas in the gullies; I used my skis to cross them. It wasn’t until around 800 meters, near Miellejohka, that there were larger snow-covered areas and I could ski more easily, though I still had to ski over rocky patches at times. There was much less snow than the previous year. Higher up, around 900 m, the wind was already quite strong, and it brought a light snowfall. When I reached Čuonjávággi at the northwest end of Čuonjájávri, I noticed that there was a bit of water visible among the rocks on the lake shore, and there was also a ridge nearby that offered shelter from the wind. I decided to set up camp there. I dug out a spot for the tent in a snowdrift behind the ridge and built a windbreak out of snow. The shovel was better than last year’s and held up well. This time I also had snow pegs to secure the tent lines; they didn’t fit into the loops at the corners of the tent, so I used pieces of wooden trim instead. I went to fetch water from the lake; water had risen onto the ice near the shore rocks, and I was able to scoop it up with a drinking cup to fill my water bottles and Ortlieb bag—so I didn’t have to melt snow for water. I was inside the tent at 4:26 p.m. I had a beer sausage and a Reiter Rice with Beef and Pepper trail meal. The wind died down, it got foggy, and the temperature outside was +1 degree.

I assessed the snow conditions; there was very little snow. It was mainly in the gullies and on the eastern and northern slopes of the ridges; larger, continuous patches of snow weren’t found until up on the fells, above 1,100 meters, on the eastern slopes. The snow didn’t support a hiker’s weight properly, but it did support a skier’s. The going felt so heavy that I was hesitant to continue further up the fell. There seemed to be too much snow for walking and too little for skiing. My physical condition also felt poor; I wondered if I could even manage to move with a heavy backpack. And what about shelter from the wind? Based on my previous observations (from the 2024 trip), there are’t many sheltered spots further down in the valley. And would there even be water there? The wind picked up again, so I went to shovel more of a windbreak. I then made some coffee-cocoa and ate a chocolate bar and some cookies. The wind died down. I settled in for the night; it was +6 degrees in the tent, so I figured I’d be fine with just a quilt, since I was wearing a merino wool base layer, wool socks, fleece pants, a wool jacket, and a beanie. I checked the day’s stats on my GPS: distance 12.86 km, time 5:48:29, speed 2.6 km/h, ascent 803 m, descent 212 m.

Day Trip to Váimovággi

Saturday, May 2, 2026 I spent the night trying to sleep; my wool jacket was quite warm, so I switched to a lightweight down jacket—the hood on the down jacket also provided better protection for my neck. I woke up at 6:23 a.m. I ate the rest of the Reiter from the bag for breakfast, drank coffee, and ate some cookies. The weather was cloudy and windy; the wind brought snow flurries, though the sun peeked out occasionally. I decided to check out the surroundings a bit and set off skiing toward Váimovággi, carrying my day trip gear in my backpack. The wind was strong, but fortunately it was at my back. I first climbed up the snow-covered ridge, then walked on rocky terrain with my skis on for a while until I reached the southern edge of Váimovággi. There was still snow there, and I was able to travel mostly on snow, though my skis had climbing skins, so I could walk uphill or on flat ground or slide downhill; there wasn’t enough glide for actual skiing. I made it to the base of the gorge between the peaks of Čuonjáčohkka; a strong wind was whipping snow down the slopes of the fells. With a wind this strong, summiting the fell was out of the question. Besides, it felt like too strenuous a feat given my condition that day—first a 500-meter climb to the 1,495-meter peak, and then I’d have to continue on to the 1,562-meter peak. The snow on the slopes was icy; my skis left hardly any tracks in it. I continued on skis and reached the saddle between Čuonjáčohkka and Suorooaivi; here the wind was even stronger. I started descending diagonally to the right, but then realized there was likely a snowdrift ahead, so I turned left and went down from there. I managed to get around the snowdrift; lower down, the wind was lighter, and I took a sip of water from my bottle. The snow didn’t hold well in this flatter area; my skis sank into the snow at times, and at other times there was no snow, and the tips of my skis jabbed into the uneven ground. I then climbed back up the slope where the snow held. I reached the southern side of the fell, up on the ridge; the wind was really strong there, and the snow ran out. I took off my skis and carried them in my hands. The wind caught the skis and almost knocked me off balance. I made it to the edge of Čuonjávággi; at one point I had to squat down on my knees there to wait for the gust of wind to subside. Behind a slightly larger rock, sheltered from the wind, I then took a break, ate a chocolate bar, and drank some water. After a break, I descended into the lower part of the valley, where the wind was a little lighter, though snow was blowing in with it. There was snow on the ground at the bottom of the valley, so I put on my skis. Visibility was poor in the cloudy valley; I walked on skis against the wind and snow flurries, with snow piling up on my glasses and the front of my jacket. Finally, near Čuonjájávri, the cloud cover and flurries lessened, and the wind died down a bit. I continued along the lake shore back to the tent. Fortunately, the tent was still in place, sheltered by a wall of snow; I reached it at 2:50 p.m. I ate a beer sausage, took off my wet socks—Toundra boots are so warm that my feet sweat a lot in them. Then a blizzard began, blowing snow into the tent as well; the snow soon covered my gear in the vestibule, and I had to keep the inner tent door closed, otherwise the inner tent would have been full of snow too. I waited for the snowing to end and tried to shake the snow off the top of the inner tent. Finally, the blizzard passed; I cleared the snow from the vestibule and lit the stove to dry out the tent, and at the same time prepared a Reiter Pasta Carbonara with Ham meal, which, as has already been noted, is also a really good dish. Getting around on skis had felt pretty awkward. You couldn't exactly call it skiing; it was more like walking with skis on. The skis also had poor downhill performance; fortunately, the climbing skins provided some braking on the descent, but I had to use plowing turns, and even then I fell once. I wouldn’t have the stamina to make long treks on skis with a backpack on my back. The climbing skins were also now wet and frozen. So I decided to focus on camping for now. In the evening, I enjoyed some coffee-cocoa and ate some cookies. Then I started waiting for sleep; it was -4 degrees outside. The GPS showed the day’s distance as 17.08 km, time 6:00:28, speed 3.3 km/h, ascent 858 m, descent 890 m.

A trip to the ravine north of Nissončorru

Sunday, May 3, 2026 It was chilly at night: -8 degrees Celsius in the outer tent and -4 degrees in the inner tent. I felt a bit cold at times; my quilt’s temperature limit is -6 degrees. At 3:15 a.m., I stepped outside; my shoes were frozen, and drifting snow had covered the tent’s vents, so I cleared the snow away with a shovel. I brought the water containers into the inner tent so they wouldn’t freeze completely.

I woke up at 7:20 a.m.; the sun was shining and warming the tent. I ate the rest of the Reiter from the bag, drank coffee, and ate cookies. I went to fetch more water from the lake shore; the wind was quite strong and cold, and snow was blowing in with the wind. Further on in Čuonjávágg, it was cloudy, and the peaks of the fells were shrouded in clouds. Now was a good time to focus on camping and skip going outside. While focusing, I dried my socks using the sun’s radiant heat. Then the weather turned so sunny that my concentration wavered and I had to go outside. Outside the tent, I tore the frozen climbing skins off. I set out to climb the side of the fell toward the ravine on the north side of Nissončorru; at first I kept my skis on, but without the climbing skins, the skis had no grip, so I soon took them off and carried them in my hands. I made my way around the ridge of the fell, ascending gently as I went. There weren’t many snowy areas along the route; the terrain was rocky and grassy. I made it up to the point where the gully splits. At the bottom of the gully, there was a continuous patch of snow. I put on my skis and climbed another couple hundred meters up the fork, to an elevation of about 1,250 meters. Now I intended to test the skis’ slalom capabilities. I secured the bindings to the skis with bolts and wing nuts. I then tried skiing down a gentle slope. The weather had turned cloudy, so I could no longer really make out the details of the snow surface. At times there was thin powder snow where the ski got stuck, and at other times an icy surface where the ski edge didn’t grip; the descent was difficult and uncertain. “Well, I’ve tried this too,” I thought, and unscrewed the binding plates from the skis again. I then walked back to the tent along the route I had come, skis on my feet; the skis stuck a bit in the rocky areas, but glided quite well on the snowy grass. At the tent, it seemed like the wind had shifted slightly toward the south, so I continued building the windbreak along the side of the tent. I prepared a Reiter Pasta Bolognese with Beef meal and ate. Outside, it was windy and snowing; inside the tent, it was +7 degrees. I checked the weather forecast on my GPS; snow was expected for the next few days, with sunshine not coming until the end of the week. I might as well leave tomorrow, I figured. I ate a beer sausage, and later in the evening I made some coffee-cocoa and ate some cookies. I went to bed at 8:36 p.m. The GPS device appeared to have stopped at the point when I put on my skis at the top of the pass; it showed a distance of 3.55 km, a time of 01:45:29, a speed of 2.6 km/h, an ascent of 402 m, and a descent of 124 m.

Čuonjávággi – Abisko

Monday, May 4, 2026 There was no wind during the night, so condensation built up inside the tent, and the dampness made me feel a little chilly; the temperature inside the tent was -4 degrees. I missed my down sleeping bag a little, but I left it packed in its compression bag and made do with a quilt. I woke up at 7:40 a.m.; the sun was already warming the tent, there was only a light breeze, and hardly any snowfall. I ate the rest of the Reiter bag, drank coffee, and had some cookies. Then I packed my gear under the shelter of the tent; finally, I went outside, took down the tent, and packed everything into my backpack. Thanks to the favorable weather, breaking camp went smoothly. In general, I believe it’s better to set out when the weather is good. The usability/uselessness of the skis had now been verified in so many different ways that I packed them on the sides of my backpack as well.

Around 10:30 a.m., I set off walking downhill toward Abisko. The sky slowly clouded over, and a light snowfall began when I reached Báddosdievvá. I passed one hiker heading up to the dievva. At Njáhkáčavili, I stopped and took a sip of water from my bottle. I reached the car around 2:00 p.m. The GPS readings were: distance 11.82 km, time 03:22:53, speed 3.7 km/h, ascent 180 m, descent 755 m. I packed my gear into the car and changed clothes. Then came the drive home, this time on roads without construction, along the highways, arriving at 10:00 p.m.

Observations: First of all, there just wasn’t enough snow. Second, the skis were poor; I had already noted last year that skis play an essential role in winter hiking and that it’s best to have mountain skis when hiking in the fells. However, in such poor snow conditions, those spare skis—which hadn’t been used in three decades—were perfectly suitable; they handled well even on rocky terrain and in grassy areas. It’s so that early May is unsuitable for fell hiking, when skiing is no longer feasible and hiking isn’t yet possible, Q.E.D. The Abisko Alps are a really nice mountain range; I’ve just often visited there outside of summer, so the weather has usually been bad; one could even take a summer trip to the area, starting from the Kaisepakte parking lot. A quilt is perfectly sufficient for summer trips, at least with a Therm-a-Rest NeoAir X-Lite NXT mattress. The Akto is a cramped tent.