The route even takes you through Norway for a while before you cross back into Sweden. The landscape barely changes. Forests, mountains, and snowfields continue to alternate.

Not much later, you pull into the parking lot at Fulufjället National Park.

There are a surprising number of RVs and vans. You grab your backpack and walk toward the park entrance. At the large information board, you take a look at what there is to discover here.

You turn right and follow a long wooden boardwalk along a still lake. Across the lake, Fulufjället rises above the water. Snow and ice still cover its highest sections.

A dark gray sky hangs above the mountain. They don’t look promising.

Then the sky opens up.

Heavy raindrops come pounding down. You know it will not make any difference, but you pull the hood of your rain jacket farther over your head anyway.

Within seconds, you are soaked.

In the distance stands a large pine tree. You run toward it and take shelter beneath its branches. Rain drums against the needles and runs down the trunk.

Small streams wind through the landscape in front of you. Fresh green birches stand out brightly against the dark sky. Between the trees, narrow animal trails disappear into the forest.

Almost like something out of a fairy tale.

After a few minutes, the rain begins to ease. You leave your shelter and continue along the trail.

A steep staircase takes you farther down. With every step, the roar grows louder.

Then Njupeskär appears between the trees.

The waterfall is ninety-three meters high, with seventy meters of free fall. That gives Njupeskär the highest free fall in Sweden.

You follow the boardwalk closer and closer to the waterfall. Ahead of you, an enormous torrent crashes down with tremendous force. Fine spray reaches you from far away, casting a damp haze over the trail.

A thick layer of ice lies at the base. Footprints cross it, leading toward the falling water.

For a moment, you hesitate.

Still, you take a step forward.

The snow crunches beneath your boots as you carefully shuffle across the slippery ice. Your eyes remain fixed on the ground.

One more step.

Then your foot suddenly slips, right beside the churning river.

Your breath catches.

At the last second, you regain your balance.

Without hesitating, you turn around. Step by step, you make your way back to the wooden boardwalk.

Only when the wood creaks beneath your boots again do you exhale.

One step closer to the waterfall had been one step too far.

By the time you reach the parking lot, dusk is already beginning to settle in. The RVs and vans are still there. Through the windows, you see people sitting inside, warm and dry.

You could stay here.

But you are looking for something else.

A place surrounded by nature.

You leave the parking lot and turn from the main road onto a narrow gravel road. It ends at a clearing beside a small pond. Young birches grow around the water, scattered among the marshy grass.

As soon as you step out, you have to move aside.

Droppings are everywhere.

Everything suggests that moose come here.

You climb into the tent and unzip the window slightly. From where you sleep, you look out across the water.

The evening air is cool.

And it is quiet.

Dead quiet.

Slowly, you scan the shoreline in the last light of dusk.

This time, you do not take a step.

You wait.

Then you hear something crack in the distance.

You freeze.

Another crack.

And then silence again.

You grip your binoculars tightly and keep watching the dark shoreline.

Would tonight be your lucky night?