Decision Made

10:30 AM

Wednesday the 28th, morning. Good morning! Slept well, ate plenty, and with a completely empty head started overthinking again about what to do. Hitchhike back to the German guys in the hope of finding them, head down to Abisko—which would be three days of hitchhiking—or wait until the day after tomorrow, when a Norwegian named Fredrik (https://m.facebook.com/fredrik.karlstad.3) arrives in Kautokeino, doing it quite commercially and fully sponsored.

Just spoke with Mario, one of the Germans who tried to push through. They’re walking back—he’s never been so scared in his life. My decision is made: I’m heading to Abisko.

1:41 PM

First I walk out of Kautokeino, because hitchhiking in a city or village never works. Then I stick out my thumb at every passing car while continuing to walk. Until you find a spot where a car can pull over easily without blocking traffic.

Well, I found that spot—but after two hours of thumbing you start to lose heart. And then, sure enough, two girls of about 18 pick me up like some kind of drifter. They were from Finland and very tough!! Blasting loud music, smoking, and Snapchatting at the same time. Ooh, that was the shoulder—whoa, that was oncoming traffic—oops, that was… yep, that was the police. They got pulled over for speeding. Alcohol test, a Snapchat about the police, and then the fine: €53 for 15 km/h over the limit. I say nothing!!!! I have to get to Abisko—and how?? As long as I get there. In Finland I was dropped off and could start hitchhiking again.

3:01 PM

Same story. Walk out of town and stand somewhere a car can stop easily. A doctor, a kind man, picked me up—he had emigrated to Finland. In Germany he didn’t like it, and here he had all the freedom. Norwegians, he said, are gruff. Swedes—no, they’re allowed everything. Finns—they have cheap alcohol. We talked the whole way. If you’ve got two right hands, there’s plenty of work here.

An hour later he dropped me off right next to a bus that was just arriving, heading toward the Swedish border. Now that was timing.

3:42 PM

The bus dropped me near the bridge leading into Sweden. Quick crossing, then walk out of the little village again.

It took too long, so I started walking. An old man stopped and could take me quite a long way—wow, he drove fast!!! He dropped me off at his house and I continued on foot.

I asked a woman by the roadside if a bus passed there, but she just looked at me questioningly and looked away. A few meters further I turned around and saw her get into a truck, which drove past laughing.

Not long after, a man stopped to pick up a woman—she had walked from Nordkapp. Gosh, that sounds familiar. Every kilometer is a kilometer, so I gladly rode along.

This man drove so fast he even overtook the truck, but not much later he had to turn off in another direction. Still, I had made good progress.

At a bus stop I started thumbing again, and sure enough, there came the truck again. Might as well wave nicely.

7:11 PM

A father and his son stopped. They lived in Tromsø and happened to be in Sweden for a football match. I was tightly wedged in among all the luggage, but I couldn’t care less—I needed to get further. It was pleasant in the car. The son, “Sandra,” about 10 years old, knew Sneijder, Robben, and Ajax of course. Great that I could hitch such a big stretch—that really helps.

At a large intersection I stood at the on-ramp and quickly got a lift to Kiruna. There was going to be a big festival this weekend, and afterward everyone would go on holiday and the city would become a ghost town. The city lives off the iron mine—the largest and deepest iron mine there is. It’s so important that the entire city is even being relocated to keep mining.

Here hitchhiking was difficult too. I was even driven off the road a few times by youths laughing out the window like, “Look at me, I’m so brave!!”

9:14 PM

After a long walk, a businessman finally stopped. He coordinates railway tracks here for work. Budget cuts had to be made, and the residents didn’t find that very amusing. It was up to him to push it through in a decent way. Good luck! He dropped me off at the front door of a hostel in Abisko. It was already late and I asked for a room, but none were available. Everywhere you saw young people in fancy hiking gear—it was basically a big hiker village. This is the start of the Kungsleden trail. Do I really feel like this?