Came Unprepared

Aktse | Skirfe: Rematch in the Mountains

The first quest of the season was a trial by fire, aptly named the Jötun’s Fever. The unblinking eye of a cruel sun, perhaps a spark from Múspell itself, scorched the highlands. It beat the will from the body, rendering the mountain paths a blistering gauntlet. For six months, I had honed my body through pre-dawn rituals, gruelling HIIT and Tabata workouts, to steel my physique for the brutal terrain and the weight of the pack. I had prepared my muscles for the ache and my lungs for the climb, but no physical trial could prepare one for this oppressive, inescapable inferno. That journey was meant to be a week-long saga, a chance to unleash the full potential of my Canon EOS R6 Mark II upon the mountain's soul. But the heat was a tangible malice, a giant's breath that warped the air and choked the joy from the trial. The quest was cut short.

Though the experience was profound, the fever left a void. A creative hunger. Back in the lowlands, my mind knew no rest. My hands felt the phantom weight of the camera, my fingers twitched for the shutter, aching to frame the art, to adjust the settings to match the land's grim mood, to bend the light until the vision in my mind came alive. I live to create stories by deciphering the seiðr—the ancient whispers—of the landscapes.

This hunger became a haunting. My previous hike, armed only with my Pixel 7 Pro, had been its own kind of torment. We walked from Nuolja to Kårsavagge, a path that cut through a king's hoard. The mountains were a canvas of raw, elemental power. Gold and diamonds, the Earth's very bones, lay scattered in every vista.

And my tool? A simple mobile phone. It felt like trying to capture a thunderclap in a glass jar. Nevertheless, great photos can still be achieved by shooting in RAW, which captures more data from the camera sensor, allowing for greater control when editing the photos later, without sacrificing image quality.

As an artist, the inability to claim this treasure, to capture its full, roaring essence, was excruciating. I know a mountain journey is more than the images you take. The pilgrimage itself is a life-altering ritual. But the artist's hugr, the spirit, has its own demands.

So, how does this lead to being "unprepared"?

Weeks later, with the Jötun's Fever finally broken, the unspent energy thrummed within me. A new vow was made: a rematch. I would return to the high places, this time to conquer the notorious mountain cliff: Skierfe.

Eager, I acquired a mountain bike to breach the distance from Sitoälvsbron to Aktse. But in my haste, a blunder. A potential omen. My hiking shoes, my trusted companions, were forgotten. Left behind, a three-hour drive away. A mistake I had never made. Yet, my heart did not falter. This was merely a new test—to walk the mountain paths in simple, unwaterproofed barefoot shoes, bearing a 25kg pack. Thanks to my feet already being accustomed to walking in barefoot shoes for years, this was not a problem at all. It's almost like walking in my real hiking shoes, which are also barefoot; the difference is that they are waterproof and cover the ankles. I love the feeling of letting my feet spread and move naturally while being able to feel the ground beneath them.

The 10km bike journey was its own gauntlet. A rollercoaster of stone, a path of punishing ascents and jarring falls. The saddle, devoid of cushion, felt like a cold iron railing. That is a grim tale for another time. When hope felt thin, we finally breached the tree line and arrived at Aktse.

A fleeting reward awaited. The evening sun bled behind the distant peaks, staining the clouds in ethereal, bruised hues of purple and orange. The beauty was short-lived. The frost-breath of the coming night sank its teeth in, the temperature plummeting to 5 degrees Celsius—a stark, chilling contrast to the giant's fever of 25 degrees.

The Draugr in the Pack

I had remembered every piece of camera equipment. Every lens, every battery, every filter needed for my Skierfe quest was nestled in my pack. My war-chest was complete. It felt like I had planned for every possibility.

This was my first pilgrimage, bringing my mirrorless "Eye" into the high mountains. And it revealed I was utterly, terribly unprepared. Not in my gear, but in my mind.

A fear, cold and palpable, rose from the pack. I didn't dare take the camera out. It was secure, swaddled in its protective bag, yet my mind conjured demons. The thought of a single misstep on the treacherous terrain, a stumble, a crack of the lens against stone. These were not just thoughts; they were haunting. A draugr, a ghost of enemies, had attached itself to me.

My focus had been so singular—get the gear—that I never thought to prepare my spirit for the burden of using it.

This quest was the rematch. The mountains unfolded in every direction, offering me the herd I had craved. The gold and diamonds were everywhere, limitless.

And the draugr in my head whispered. Don't. You will ruin it. You will stumble and fall. You will drop it. Your precious Eye. Your Soul-Catcher.

The only time I unsheathed my camera was at the summit of Skierfe. There, I could set my pack down. I could take my time. I could breathe. The ghost-enemy receded, and I focused, capturing scenes over The Veins of Sarek, the very arteries of the sleeping titans below. But as the sun dipped low behind the snow-capped peaks, our time was over. We had to descend.

On the hike down to our camp in Aktse, a cold waterfall of disappointment washed over me. The journey was ending. The opportunities were now just ghosts in the mist. I had failed. The true battle was not with the mountain; it was with the spectre I had carried on my own back. But in recognising this, I found a sliver of growth. Each step downward taught me that the greatest obstacles often lie within, and facing them is the key to true preparation. I learned that setbacks are not the end but a part of the journey, shaping the path forward. On the hike down to our camp in Aktse, a cold waterfall of disappointment washed over me. The journey was ending. The opportunities were now just ghosts in the mist. I had failed. The true battle was not with the mountain; it was with the spectre I had carried on my own back.

Now, in the aftermath, I see the truth. I had tunnel vision so sharp it blinded me to the real challenge. I should have practiced at home and forged my confidence. I should have hiked for an hour, just to feel the weight, to learn the rhythm of safely drawing the camera. To better prepare myself and others, I suggest simulating real-world conditions. Start with mock hikes in your local area, gradually increasing in difficulty and length. Time your camera draws while walking on diverse terrains, focusing on quick yet safe handling. Engage in exercises that mimic setting up the camera in challenging conditions, such as windy days, to build agility and speed. Practicing under varying lighting conditions will also enhance readiness. These steps can transform apprehension into assurance, allowing you to focus on capturing the world around you rather than fearing the hazards.

Forging an Unshakable Confidence

Confidence is not mere gear; it is your indestructible shield—the force that powers you through storms, setbacks, and triumphs alike. True confidence is forged within the crucible of self-reflection and perseverance. Look inward and recognise the fire that already burns in you. Every triumph, no matter how small, is a testament to your courage and growth. Celebrate these victories, for they are the stepping stones of your greatness.

Embrace your imperfections, for they shape your unique story. Practice compassion for yourself, knowing that every flaw is a mark of your humanity, and every challenge is a chance to rise higher. Set bold goals, and pursue them relentlessly—each step forward, however modest, strengthens your resolve and builds your legacy.

Make space for quiet moments of introspection. Through journaling, mindfulness, or simple reflection, discover the depths of your own strength. In these moments, fears dissolve and doubts transform into determination.

Remember, confidence is not about seeking approval or fitting into the world’s moulds. It is about building a foundation so unshakable within yourself that no circumstance can erode it. Stand tall, let your inner light blaze, and inspire others to ignite theirs. The world awaits the impact only you can make.