After a beautiful drive through snow-covered forest we arrived and checked into our glass igloo for the night. It was toasty and warm and being completely horizontal for the first time in over 24 hours felt pretty amazing. Even in the afternoon gloaming with a few snow-drenched pines leaning just into our field of vision the view was stunning.
After a few adult beverages, snug in our igloo we focused on the sky above us and did see some pale flickering. Jet-lag in full swing, we (predictably) fell asleep and apparently slept through a rather stunning display of the northern lights.
Never mind. We had plenty more planned over the next few days of our stay.
We kicked off our Arctic adventure with a reindeer safari led by a Sami (Lappish) reindeer herder from a nearby village.
We bundled into a 2-person sleigh, lined with reindeer skins and set off through the forest towed by our trusty reindeer. It was a clear day, so the sky was fairly bright despite the fact that the sun had never fully risen. Every inch of every tree, bush, plant, shrub, was perfectly and completely coated and groaning under the weight of ice and snow. Even for someone who grew up with snowy winters, it was positively magical.
We all associate reindeer with the Arctic, but I had never really seen one properly up close or paused to think about how important they are to the people of the far north.
At first glance, they don't look like hearty enough creatures for the climate. Their spindly legs look quite exposed and their fur completely lacks the length and lushness that you expect from an animal that survives in such a harsh environment. But try and run your fingers through reindeer fur and it is virtually impossible. It is so dense that you can't get your fingers through it and each individual hair is hollow and filled with air, essentially rendering reindeer completely waterproof. They are quite literally made of nature's own Goretex.
They survive almost entirely on lichen, a sort of dry moss that hangs from the trees. Again, an unlikely food source that looks like a painfully meagre in the face of such an unforgiving environment.
After our safari as we warmed up over hot-chocolate, in a smoke-filled lavvu (the Lappish equivalent of tepees used by Native Americans) our Sami guide told us about life north of the Arctic Circle.
Reindeer are essential to the Sami people - and to this day, the Sami are predominately reindeer herders. Collectively his village manages a herd of about 8000 - and they lose about 500 a year to bears, wolves and lynx. And while he now tracks the herd with his snowmobile - his father used to do so by cross-country skis - very little has changed.
He still herds in his traditional Sami-reindeer skin boots that his mother made for him in the 80's. They are made of 3 layers of reindeer skin - and having experienced the warmth of reindeer hide gloves myself, I am fairly certain that his 30-year-old hide boots are as good as the best Goretex winter boots money can buy.
The Sami people are spread across the Arctic regions of Finland, Sweden and Norway - and would consider themselves Sami first, and Finnish, Swedish, Norwegian a distant second. Until the 1960's many Sami herders still lived in lavvus and the high north of Finland didn't have electricity until the 1980's.
It was a genuinely remarkable experience. It felt exotic, which for all the idyllic villages, crumbling castles, and towering cathedrals that dot the continent, exotic is not a term I often use to describe a European holiday, but this felt exactly that.
PS I began this post not long after we returned to Australia in January, it's only taken me five months to complete.
PS I began this post not long after we returned to Australia in January, it's only taken me five months to complete.
