Lapland, in my particular Swedish dictionary, means friendship. Because it is not easy that a trip with those you consider friends becomes much more than a trip of friends. Sometimes, the journey ends and the friendship vanishes. The expedition by the Kungsleden never finished and every day there is a moment, a sudden memory or a smile that takes me to the forests and my companions and nevertheless friends.

Sweden shook me from the first moment, long before I entered their woods. When I discovered that the hardware stores, supermarkets and even gas stations are the paradise of Bushcraft: any store in a small town of 20 houses offers the complete catalog of Hultafors on therir shelves. At the door of the mall an old man eats jellies with his Mora knife on his neck. A few meters away a couple download freshly cut fir wood planks ifrom their home sawmill. And I discovered that America, the America of redwood barns, is actually Swedish. Neither English nor Irish: they are Swedish.

But then I found the forest and all turned out to be just a small hint of the immensity of emotions and discoveries. The moors, the groves, the bark of the birches, the fire prepared by a retired couple while we rested, the moss on the rocks, the tracks of the bears, fresh and smoking, the lakes, the incessant splash of the boots when crossing the plains, the coldness in the night and the boots burned at the camp fire, the reindeers, the moose, more trails of bears, northern lights in the sky, the surströmming, more bear tracks …

I do not think I could resume this trip even if I had 10 million words at my disposal because I would always have a thousand images and a million more sensations on my eyes or in my heart to count.

But all those stories and experiences are nothing if compared with the very best: my fellows. They just made me happy.


Daniel Laplander

Simon Laplander


Pablo Paredes

And Pisko, who likes to be behind the camera, as usual

Lapland, September 2016


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