The night at Pallas fells
When the weather forecast predicted clear skies in the early morning, I felt inspired to head to the fells for the night. This time, I aimed to catch the first rays of the morning sun. Just a few weeks ago, it was still the midnight sun, but now the days are quickly shortening, and the sun dips below the horizon for five hours. It won’t be long before it doesn’t rise at all. I wanted to experience at least one sunrise from the fells during the summer.
It was well past midnight when I parked my car at the Pallas Nature Center and started my hike toward the highest fell, Taivaskero. I wasn’t alone on the trail—reindeer out for a late-night snack were wandering around every corner, completely unfazed by my nighttime journey.
Just before the summit, there’s a small plateau between two fells that opens up unexpectedly after the ascent. From the plateau, there’s a vast view toward Hetta. The landscape looked like something from another world, with morning mist and the golden traces of the evening sun. The misty layers moved slowly and silently, rapidly altering the scenery.
The view was stunningly beautiful. It felt as if I were looking at a mountain landscape from an airplane or had crossed into another realm. Fortunately, the reindeer grazing on the slopes of the fell reminded me of earthly reality, grounding me in the moment. Otherwise, I’m not sure I would have believed it was real.
As I climbed to the summit, the landscape was suddenly enveloped in heavy, damp, silent mist. It arrived unexpectedly from behind me, almost eerily, and for someone experiencing it for the first time, it felt a bit frightening, covering everything beneath its veil.
I waited for the sunrise and the mist to clear while huddled in a rocky crevice like a little sprite. I was dressed warmly, but I didn’t expect the moisture brought on by the mist to seep into my bones even in July. I tried to close my eyes at times but ended up just shivering inside my down sleeping bag and occasionally reaching for my warm thermos to sip hot coffee for warmth.
Around three in the morning, the red light of the sun began to disperse the damp clouds, which retreated in just a few minutes as silently and eerily as they had descended from the fell. What remained was a breathtaking landscape.
After the sunrise, the light transformed into a brighter, harsher, and more familiar morning glow. The clouds that had accumulated moisture during the night faded into the horizon, while a gentle breeze quickly dried the dew that had settled on the fell.
I packed my mist-dampened belongings, crawled out of my warm sleeping bag, and began my descent. The initial part of the trail down was a scree of stones, remnants of ancient mountain peaks crushed by glaciers. As I hopped from stone to stone, I pondered whether the boulder I had just stepped on had once been at the summit of an ancient mountain, at the height of Mount Everest, before being crushed by the immense power of the glaciers.
Only when the sun rose did I feel the fatigue creeping into my body. Just beyond the scree, the landscape opens up to Pallashotel, where I knew people were sleeping soundly, wrapped in their warm blankets. I wondered if there might be a warm breakfast waiting for me when I made it down.
The path ran alongside a beautiful and lively fell stream, from which I filled my empty water supply. The clear water bubbled companionably nearly all the way down, providing refreshing sips. I’m always amazed at how much crystal-clear spring water can be found even on the vast and rugged fells.
After the barren rocky area of the summit, the lively and lush streamside was bursting with life: meadow flowers, wetland plants, and cheerful fell birds competing with each other early in the morning.
As a result of my slow descent, the clock showed seven in the morning when I reached the foot of the fell. With a stroke of luck, the breakfast table at Pallashotel was indeed just set—doors opened at seven, welcoming the weary adventurer to a steaming cup of coffee and breakfast. While sitting by the window with my morning porridge, a hotel staff member approached to chat casually: “Where have you traveled from? We noticed your trail from the summit; were you out photographing? It seems like you’ve spent the night journeying, and I bet the food tastes good now.”
Indeed, the food was delightful. Despite my fatigue, I felt happier than I had in a long time. I had gathered something magical from the fell that I couldn’t quite put into words. Perhaps this is what it means to be a fell fanatic.
♥: Sanna