A multi-day hike above the Arctic Circle is no place for an iPhone to die.

“There goes my camera,” I thought, and yet the loss was freeing. I was out of internet and mobile phone range anyway. Now I’d have to pay more attention to my surroundings. I began to collect colourful leaves to place in my journal as proof, explorer-style, that I’d been there.

Few people outside Nordic countries know about the Kungsleden, or the King’s Path, the most famous trail in Sweden. But National Geographic calls it one of the world’s greatest hikes, which is how I came across it online.

I’ll get key words out of the way. Northern lights? Yes. Reindeer? Yes, at close range. Icebergs and polar bears? No.

Between the end of June and mid-September, when mountain huts are open and there’s rarely snow, the far north shows itself in the spare landscape and unusual light.

The landscape is not the Himalayas, though hills lining the wide valley are the weathered nubs of mountains once just as high. With few trees, the view is clear and gorgeous.

The path is dotted with bushes bearing edible, bright red lingonberries. The wind can be strong and cold.

Reindeer and the indigenous Sami people help break the open landscape. In summer, the semi-nomadic Sami round up and identify young reindeer. In autumn, hunting and slaughtering season begins.

The most popular part of the Kungsleden is its northernmost stretch, easily reached by a brief Scandinavian Airlines flight and bus ride, or an overnight train from Stockholm. The train stops across from one of the biggest and busiest mountain lodges along the trail, in Abisko.

The tiny village is world-renowned for its view of the northern lights, and Japanese tour groups there were no surprise, since the lights are revered in Japanese culture.

But I almost wished that someone would sound an alarm when the lights appear. I spent the evening in the lodge’s one-room library, hopping up from time to time to glance outside. Eventually, I returned to the dormitory to sleep, then I happened to glance up and there they were, glowing green and slowly moving across the sky.

From Abisko, the Kungsleden offers a multi-day hike, accessible by public transport, with huts along the way. On the trail, you can also camp pretty much wherever you like. During hiking season, shelters are open with gas stoves, bunk beds, woodstoves for heat and candles for light. Water comes from nearby streams.

You’re expected to fend for yourself. I quickly learned how to saw wood and light fires. Custodians welcome you with a glass of juice, take payments and show you around. Bring your own food for the entire weeklong hike in case the small shops in some shelters run low on staples like pasta and canned protein. Try the fish balls.

Between shelters, hikes run 12 to 23km. From Abisko to the bustling mountain lodge at Kebnekaise, near the foot of Sweden’s tallest mountain, the walk is generally level or rolling. Marshy areas are crossed with two-plank walkways, and streams have bridges or stepping stones.

That almost relentlessly stony path is challenging, especially while carrying a backpack with a week’s worth of food. But a good number of Kungsleden hikers were middle-aged, including a lanky 70-year-old man from Denmark and a pair of Swedish women in their 60s.

Near the shelter at Salka, located in a vast bowl formed where valleys meet, I stood still for several minutes as a small herd of reindeer wandered across the trail. Their leader snuffed in seeming impatience, and the younger ones butted and played.

The Kungsleden’s simple pleasures shift back to civilisation from the village of Nikkaluokta, a day’s hike from Kebnekaise, where a couple of buses a day during hiking season go to the regional centre of Kiruna less than an hour away.

The small mining city offers good local food at the Safari Cafe, a well-resourced tourist bureau, a striking old wooden church, a bookstore with a modest English section and the local branch of the Swedish chain H&M.

Good Swedish coffee is easily found. Kiruna also has several hostels and hotels, and a shared taxi to the airport a few kilometres away can be arranged.

From Kiruna, I flew back to Stockholm and spent my final day exploring neighbourhoods with the city’s bike-hire system and taking a ferry to one of thousands of islands in the Stockholm Archipelago on the edge of the Baltic Sea. In about 90 minutes I was on the tiny island of Grinda, following seaside paths, picking apples and contemplating a restaurant splurge at the sole hotel.

It was a simple, beautiful day. But without photos from that piece of my journey, I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.