By Kathy Hughes
Contributing Writer
Ten days into the official beginning of spring, I have traveled two hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle to Inari, Finland. While vague signs of the change of seasons were apparent when I left Central New York, the arrival of spring in the far north is abrupt and inescapable, which I found to be somewhat unexpected.
Despite all the warnings and preparations for extreme cold, daytime temperatures are as warm, if not warmer than at home, ranging from the low 30’s to low 40’s. Then there is the galloping pace of the lengthening of daylight at one hour per week; already nightfall isn’t until after 8:30 p.m., and twilight is an eerie, but beautiful blue light for an hour or more.
A major draw for tourists in this region is the Aurora borealis — the ephemeral Northern Lights. Strategies for viewing the nighttime displays all involve excursions away from the light pollution of human settlements into the wilderness by snowmobile, dog sled, reindeer drawn sleigh, snowshoe or automobile (which is prohibitively expensive for my budget).
While I had anticipated being able to choose one of the non-mechanical modes of transportation, I eagerly took the first available trip, which was by snowmobile. The day had been bright and sunny — clear skies all the way, and I was made aware that viewing “the lights” was weather dependent, in addition to requiring full darkness. Snowmobile was less desirable in my book due to the fumes, noise, bulky clothing and rushing cold air, not to mention the €800 liability involved. But then, I did not want to miss out, and the other options might be available another night.
Our group included two women from Australia, a Catalan gentleman from Barcelona, Spain, myself and our local guide, Sebastian, who sported a gigantic fur hat. Everyone spoke English except for the unfortunate Spaniard, Luiz. Luiz was a professional photographer who communicated a special warmth of personality, despite being left out of the narratives and conversation in the group.
Everyone drove a snowmobile, except for me, who being both a coward and cheapskate, rode in a sled dragged behind the guide. I was forced into a snowmobile suit, despite my bragging about how I was used to sub-zero temperatures, and tucked in under blankets. Oh, how thankful I was, since as it was, I froze in the wind and cold out on frozen Lake Inari in the Arctic night. Also, I soon gave up my fear of falling through the ice (as happens, annually, it seems, on Oneida Lake), as I concentrated on keeping warm.
We drove about 45 minutes out onto the lake before stopping to view the Arctic sky. Glimpses of stars and the moon were visible through the stubbornly, partly cloudy Arctic skies, but there was to be no brilliant display. One was vaguely aware that something was happening above, as the clouds would take on an occasional strange glow, leaving me to wonder whether I actually saw something, or was I only imaging it. Then again, I was too cold to be very disappointed.
Our trip was not in vain, however, as we soldiered on into the shoreline forest for a lengthy spin, where we were surprised when Sebastian set up a warming fire to prepare local delicacies of hot bilberry juice, roasted reindeer sausage, hot tea and cookies. Our disappointing excursion transformed into a wonderful evening of social and physical warmth, as we grouped around the fire. I learned one of the Australians was an architect, leading us to discuss famous Finnish architects (such as Eliel Saarinen), and then, for Luiz’s benefit, the stunning architecture of Barcelona, including Antoni Gaudi.
Sebastian, a true outdoorsman and Sami (Laplander) expert, told us tales of his experiences and of Sami culture. A standout stunning fact of Sami reindeer herding culture (later verified) which he shared was how the herders would geld the reindeer using their teeth! Don’t ask me how we got on that topic, but it served as a memorable highlight of the conversation, leading to laughs and speculations shared by everyone, although I am not completely sure that Luiz understood.
On the return trip, I learned one trick of keeping warm was to curl into a fetal position, crouched behind the windscreen. I warmed my hands by singing “Shake, shake, shake” as I vigorously shook my hands under the blankets.
Finally, upon arrival, we socialized briefly, sharing photos of the Aurora from the internet on our cell phones, and cheered with the news that we could watch the display every night broadcast by a local tv station. We went our separate ways reluctantly, with fond goodbyes, and memories of a very special Arctic night; after a week, I have yet to see the Northern Lights, and the prospects are lessening, with only small regret on my part.