Pallas - The story of bravery in a story where things went horribly wrong

This is a story of bravery in a story where things went horrible wrong.

We had a plan for a great adventure. We would ski over Pallas fell, admire the view from the various peaks on the way and camp in the valley beyond. The sky wasn't as clear and the wind was stronger than forecast had promised last night. But the clouds where high enough to keep the peaks clear. I was feeling bit tired from the past working week and my stomach had been bit weird, but it was nothing new to me.

The up hill to the first peak was hard, bit harder than I had expected, but being already tired, I told myself, I should not expect too much from myself. Just take it easy and enjoy.

The path followed a side of the first peak, leaving gently sloping kuru canyon to our left side. Getting higher the slope turned so icy, that my skies were sliping side ways to the down hill. I tried to follow old ski tracks to keep my skies in the course and to keep my anckles as straight as possible, as they had started hurting already.

Finally, when we got to the even ground, the wind catched us. The left side peak had been covering us and only now we realized how strong it was up on the fell.

I could see the highest peak on our left side, some hundred meters aside from our path. I remember watching it tired and powerless. It was just there and in the same time, it could have been lightyears away. Feeling a small personal failure, I decided, that I would sacrifice the moment of standing on the highest peak, for the sake of saving energy for the rest of the journey. We put more warm clothes on, which took a lot of effort, as the wind was grabing our clothes and trying to blow them away.

Gladly the path was well marked with wooden sticks. Now it was following the side of the highest peak, on an uneven ground again, this time the wind had gathered little bit more soft snow for my skies to grab, but the strong wind was catching my backbag and was pushing me to the steep down hill on our left side. I was shaking from the effort. I made progress slowly, but more and more of my energy went fighting against the wind and not falling to the down hill and broking my knee, which seemed very likely, should I take the fall.

After the hardest part, we finally got around the peak and started to go down hill. The wind still catching us, but not as aggressive anymore. I was totally exhausted. All my energy had gone, and my legs where shaking. My travel companion most wisely asked me, if I'm ok to continue, or should we go back. I was looking the valley ahead of us. It was so close, only couple kilometres away. It would be easy to ski there compared to the fight at the peaks. And in the same time I felt it in me. I would not make it over night there. I was too tired and most likely coming ill. I was shivering and my muscles were sore. My stomach was also burning more and more. This feeling was not normal nor something I could "just deal with".

Tears came to my eyes, when I sayd it outloud. "No, I don't think I can continue". It was sad and true. During my life, I had never turned back from an adventure. Even years ago at the Camino Compostela I had always some how managed to crawl to the next village in food poisoning and high feever. But there had been people waiting and bed to fall into. Here, only thing waiting for me was just snow and a cold night under the open sky.

I didn't have enough strenght left for going over the peaks again, so we found from the map a lower kuru canyon, which would lead us around the high peaks and most likely cover us from the wind. It would make the journey back to the car little bit longer, but it was our only change to get back there.

Those 8 km through the valleys and forests took us ages. Every hundred meters I needed to stop to collect myself, and every kilometer I needed a longer break sitting on my backbag and resting my legs, which were barely able to carry the weight of me and my backbag. My travel companion saw how I suffered, even though I tried my best to hide it, for not making her worrie more than was neccessary. She offered more than once to carry both our backbags, but I politely refused, as I knew that it would be too much for her, as she had had some back pains in the past, and I had been worring about her back before the trip already. Also I needed her to be in good energy, would I suddenly just collapse and she would need to rescue us. But this thought I kept to myself. However, I was glad she was there. Her calm company and presence made it much more easier for me to be able to carry on.

For many times my body would had not wanted to continue, but I was able to separate the pain from my mind. Luckily I had done this so many times before.  Testing my limits in Wilderness Guiding School and on Camino Compostela, that I knew, even if this felt hard, I had done harder before. This is why I truly believed, I would make it, slowly, moving one ski at a time.

When we got back to the car, I finally gave myself a permission to collapse and feel it all. I was soaking wet from the sweat of pain and exertion. I was shivering and starting to feel very ill. We stopped on the side of the road to change dry clothing and I growl up in my thickest down jacket. After one hour drive, I came sick and started vomiting. It continued in cycles, first the burn in my stomach got worse, then I got nauseate and throw up, which was followed so bad shivering, that my friend needed to help me back to the car.

When we finally got back to home, I was totally exhausted. The vomiting stopped at night, but the burning in my stomach got stronger and stronger, which made it impossible for me to eat nor drink.

The next day I decided to visit a doctor. With the limited resources in the small healthcare center, they couldn't diagnose me, so I was sent to Rovaniemi hospital with an ambulance. At this point I was already given hydration and pain killers straight to my veins, so I was in ease.

After spending hours in the hospital, they didn't find anything alarming and the diagnose was just a really agressive stomach flu. At least everything more serious was now excluded. At 3am they send me back home with a taxi and some pain killers. I was home at 4:30am.

Now everything is good, but I'm still super tired. I sleep a lot and I have a constant headace. But I have been able to eat solid food and every day I feel a bit better.

I wanted to share this story because I think there is not enough stories about turning back. Stories where one makes the most brave decision and says "not this time". Where one recognises her own limits and respects them. And finally, where one doesn't give up, but believes she can do it.