Hemavan is my “home mountain village”. This is where I first didn’t learn how to ski (I was too cool for school of course and therefore continued to go down the slopes without turning) and later on actually did learn how to ski by falling down the trees.
The last few years, it has almost become a tradition to go up to Hemavan and the close by village Tärnaby for some autumn mountain biking (hrm, that is a sligth exaggeration, this is the second year it happens, but I think that sort of qualifies as a soon-to be tradition, doesn’t it?).
This year, we were 10 people heading up north west, of which 6 were girls. I am so privileged to know so many awesome chicks! Four of the girls went up two days ahead of the rest of the crew. When the rest of us came up, we were met by a happy bunch of torn faces and bodies. After two days including one 11 hour tour around half of the Syter mountains in head wind and cold rain, they had not only managed to exhaust their bodies from pedaling and carrying their bikes, Karin also lost a tooth and gained a deep bruise (what in Swedish is called a “thigh cake”, I think you get the point), Kristin had a severly bruised wrist and Marie had managed to get a mosquito bite on her eyelid so that her eye had swollen up completely. It was fantastic. To have such cool chicks as my friends makes me very very happy.
On Saturday morning, we woke up to a world covered in mist. We couldnt see farther than 20 meters, but as we drove towards Laxfjället in Tärnaby, the heat of the sun chased the mist away and revealed the true face of Tärnafjällen. Sheer beauty.
Our first goal was Konäset. A relatively short run which can be reached by pedaling up a dirt road. The trail starts at the ski lift on Laxfjället and then heads down towards the lake Stor-laisan. It is a relatively fast, but not non-technical, trail. The dense vegetation makes you practice your skills in hide and seek with the rocks and roots on the ground. Just as fun as it sounds :).
After Konäset, we were ready for the small mountain Geartuvartu (or what the heck that mountain is called). THAT trail was totally and completely awesome. Not very long, but the few vertical meters you get are of really high quality. And with that weather, we couldn’t be anything else but delirious with happiness.
We celebrated by a Folk beer and by showing our pale naked bodies to everyone on the E12.
In fact, me, Martin and Jon, were so delirious that we decided to head up yet another mountain. We wanted the head of Dalåjve!
Carrying our bikes up the surprisingly steep (yes, I have been there before, but the body is surprisingly good at forgetting pain isn’t it?) trail, at least me and Jon felt some of that deliriousness drip off our heads in the same pace as the sweat on our foreheads. But when Martin realized that his tyre was ripped and not possible to save by the only things we had available, snickers wrappings, we of course instantly turned very dissapointed that we couldn’t continue.
So we didn’t get to the top, but we did get to charge down the incredible forest in Klippen, and that was well worth the effort. That trail is so fast, and tricky that you can easily go bananas with happiness and fear at the same time.
When we got home to the cabin. Marie and the others had already started cooking a feast. I ate until I nearly fell in a coma and then I fell in my bed. A very good day.