there were moments of pleasure, observing bird life and the scenery as it passed, but on the whole, it was seven hours of unadulterated terror, punctuated with frequent tears and further "unique perspectives on the river." I had sworn never to raft again.
Lara Dunn has been travelling since birth. She has been writing professionally about active travel around the world since 2000, and is particularly fond of places where trees, cactus or rocks outnumber people. Thankfully, there is still a long list of places to visit where this is the case.
Two feet are good, two skis are great, two wheels are even better.
There's always a bag packed, but almost always the wrong one.
Lara can be contacted on lara.dunn[at]btinternet.com
Or follow her on Twitter at @LaraDunn
For more information on rafting in Swedish Lapland, visit www.creactive-adventure.se
My mind travels back to 2000. Finding myself in Victoria Falls, it had been all but obligatory to brave the mighty Zambezi, and, besides, I hadn’t known any different. Thousands of testimonials saying what a wonderful experience it was couldn’t be wrong, surely? A flip on the very first rapid of a seven-hour day set the tone of what was to come, however. Yes, there were moments of pleasure, observing bird life and the scenery as it passed, but on the whole, it was seven hours of unadulterated terror, punctuated with frequent tears and further “unique perspectives on the river.” I had sworn never to raft again.
Standing beside this crystal clear river in the north of Sweden, in midsummer, does seem a world away from the crashing violence of that great African river, boasting some of the World’s fiercest rapids, but can I pull myself together enough to get back in the raft now? Yes, I can. The ten years between my visit to Africa and today have given me experience enough of my own weaknesses that I can handle them a little better these days. Let’s look upon it as a challenge…….
Soon my tears and fears slowly start to recede as we meander down what is one of Sweden’s cleanest rivers, a protected area where no industry or building can harm it. In a particularly serene section, we are encouraged to swim. My terror has subsided to such a degree by this point that I jump out of the boat to join the others with barely a moment’s pause. It’s only when we have to battle against the current to rejoin the raft that I experience just a little echoing frisson of my former anxiety. Tree covered banks seem to flow past quickly, a handful of smaller sets of rapids still make me grit my teeth a little but they quickly pass. Ripples abound as we float along, the tell tale signs of fish, possibly even salmon, which are common in this river. By the time we’re dragging the raft through a field of multi-hued wild flowers up to the van waiting for us at the road, I’ve come to a conclusion. I’ll never be an ardent whitewater enthusiast. Indeed, I’ll probably never actively seek out rafting opportunities as I travel. However, I am genuinely sorry to see the end of our afternoon on the gloriously wild Kalix River and I could perhaps be tempted to repeat the experience here.
Perhaps.
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