Everyone knows that turning 27 is not good. Lucky for me, I am way past that. Martin, however, is less lucky. He turned 27 last Friday. What a disaster. The only thing we could do to make things a little bit less disastrous was to pack ourselves into a car and head to the mountains. Oh what a joy to finally drive dear old Lloyden on those inland roads! He purred like my spherical cat Ojjos (ok ok she is not mine, I just borrowed her, but she IS spherical) as he charged into the night.
This time around, we were heading towards Borgafjäll, the southern most ski resort in Västerbotten. We didn’t know anything about the trails in that area, but since we’ve been skiing there quite alot, we knew that the mountains were pretty spectacular. What we didn’t know was that the village and the sorrounding mountains had received more rain the past week than they usually get in a month this time of the year. Consequently, it was wet. Very wet. Very, very, very wet.
The first day, we had planned to take the trail that goes from Borgafjäll over to Saxnäs.
I started by putting both of my feet into the icy water of a swamp. Then I continued to put them in other swamps.
The trail was supposed to be a winter AND summer trail. If the summer is hot enough to make you want to swim in marshlands, fine, then I agree that this was a summer trail. Otherwise, not so much. Of course, we had hit the wrong trail. But pushing your bike up a swamp is nice too when the sorounding is an explosion of autumn colors. Even made me forget that my feet had turned into ice.
However, when we found that the creeks had completely taken over the trail that actually did not go through a swamp, Martin decided that enough was enough and that it was time to teach it a lesson. Suprisingly enough, it actually worked to change the creeks direction. We were very proud of ourselves.
Higher up, the trail got drier and the reindeers more frequent. When we came to the crest, there were several herds around us. Very cute.
From the crest, the trail headed down towards Satsfjället. We didn’t get that far, since the heavy rain had made some rapids a bit too wild for me to pass, but we did get to surf down some seriously fun terrain. Not steep or severly technical, but sufficiently rocky and with enough inclination to make you jump around like a kid in a playground.
When we reached the roaring rapids, there was not much else to do than climb back up, say a quick hello to the reindeers again and charge down towards Borgafjäll.
The trail down was much more fun that I had ever expected. I tried to jump everything Martin jumped and did my best to keep his speed (not an easy task for a coward like me, but the inclination was just not steep enough to make me dare loosen my breaks so I actually think I did a relatively good job). I got several Wohoo! moments and we both got very muddy butts. When we reached the marshlands, we realized that we had taken the wrong way up, and got to ride down a very wet, but also very very fun forest trail. Too fun to take photos.
We celebrated by eating an extreme amount of food, watching downhill and falling asleep at 10 pm.
On the Sunday, we did misery done wrong. We woke up to near freezing temperatures, with the mission to climb Borgahällen. Not sure exactly what our expectations were. We knew that the trail headed up a colouir that is quite steep when you are on skis. Quite steep on skis means stupid steep on a bike, but but, how bad could it be? And how cool wouldnt it be to climb that mountain?
Once again, we started by traversing some lakes and creeks.
Then we climbed
And climbed, until we first reached the top of the colouir and then the actual top of the mountain.
By then, dark clouds had started pouring out their content over the valley, so we didn’t take much time to enjoy the view. Instead we tried to get some heat in our bodies and started the descent.
The first part was well worth the effort. Nice rocky trail with perfect inclination. However, my fingers and legs were so cold from the icy wind that I had trouble being easy on the bike, so I can’t say I did it justice.
Then we headed down the colouir. What had looked dificult but doable from below, turned out to be tricky for Martin, and almost impossible for me. I tried to bike some, but mostly put my feet down after just a couple of meters.
Then, Martin’s bike decided to get its handlebars firmly stuck in the soil and to toss him up in the air so that he landed with his stomach on one of the bar ends. That was more or less the end of the fun. We got ourselves down, but not much more. I could of course see that Martin was in pain, but I don’t think I realized how much. When we got to the car, we decided that it might be a good idea to call the healthcare guide line, just to ask if Martin should check up his stomach when we got back to Umeå. They adviced us to call 112 (911 in Europe)… So then, we got the privilige to do a tour of the inland. Martin in an ambulance, and me behind (yes, yes, I was worried about him, but it was also quite alot fun to drive FAST).
Lucky enough, the X-ray at Lycksele hospital did not show any evidence of internal bleeding, so at 11 pm, we could safely drive back home to Umeå and collapse. An adventurous weekend. Very good, and very bad. Misery done right and wrong.