In a magnificent landscape resembling a blend of Moab and the moon, granite slabs provide sticky traction for my tires. Following the last Ice Age, these rolling mountains of northern Scandinavia were shaped by deposits and formations during glaciation and deglaciation. Relentless forces churned and sculpted the surface. Now, more than 100,000 years later, the rugged alpine that surrounds Åre, Sweden is a playground for mountain bikers.

Above town, the rocky trails roll fast and smooth. They’re steep in places but always manageable. Riding here can be unforgiving; singletrack this far north is naturally demanding, with huge variations over short distances.

But during summer, when sunset and sunrise meld together into one monthslong stretch of light, when distant, puffy cumulus clouds provide the only contrast to an otherwise bluebird sky, when evenings spent chasing friends down singletrack spill well past 10 p.m., Åre is magisk.

On one such night following a hot day, Janne Tjärnström and I explore the mountain’s less-ridden zones. As the sun hovers low across the sky, the light is warm, the clouds almost pink—a fantastic setting for a bike ride.

After an exploratory mission to ride slabs below Mount Åreskutan, a 1,420-meter (4,660 feet) chunk of rock synonymous with Åre, we follow an old hiking trail down the mountain. The view is astonishing: the vast, wild, and open land of northern Sweden provides the foreground for distant peaks across the border in Norway.