Järvträsk Sunset. Words & picture by Nick Small.
In Swedish Lapland, the summer sun doesn’t so much set, as kiss and flirt languorously with the western skyline for a few hours, before finally going down.
Järvträsk translates as Wolverine Marsh, though I’ve yet to clap eyes on the beast itself, as they are yet another victim of climate change: inconvenienced by the gradual thinning of the snow pack.
Järvträsk is the lake and village where we spend our summers, and although my body always returns to Blighty as Autumn approaches, my heart and spirits stay stubbornly put.
Most evenings I take the old clinker built rowing boat onto the water as the wind drops, and the first rings of rising fish appear. Initially, I took these to be trout, as thousands have been released into the lake in recent years. Excitedly, I’d take the fly rod with me and drift slowly, dropping flies delicately at the bubbling surface. I don’t know why I am always disappointed when the fish turns out to be a roach.
Inevitably, the rod is rested on the stern as the display to the west becomes too beautiful to ignore. I always take my little T3 point and shoot digital camera with me, and after 4 years, I still haven’t tired of filling the memory card up with moments of splendour like this one.