The Finnish Line

When it comes to cold weather, the northern tip of Finland is not for the faint hearted. But if you enjoy being wrapped up in thermals and immersed in an enchanted kingdom of snow and ice, then it's perfect.

We arrived in Ivalo on an early February evening. As you walk out of the tiny airport, you feel the air temperature in your lungs. It's not the North Pole, but it is over the line in Finland that marks the Arctic Circle, and most people have flown in from warmer climates on warm aeroplanes wearing all the wrong clothing.

Thankfully, we had just missed a four day stretch of temperatures averaging around -40 degrees. It was only -10 which, I gathered, is 'mild' in the eyes of the Finnish.

The right clothing involves thermal layers; at least three, maybe four. Fine wool underneath and fleeces and windproof outer layers. And a hat. And gloves. Two pairs. Then you're cosy. Then you can really enjoy the experience without contemplating the loss of body parts.

We ventured on with a half hour drive to Kakslauttanen, where the Northern Lights were hopefully waiting for us.

It's an extraordinary place. Quilted in three or four feet of snow, with only ice covered roads for access, the small coach arrived after an unnervingly speedy journey through the seemingly endless woodland plantations (with fire-breaks, which remain a mystery to me). The sight of log cabins - one of which we stayed in - and the submerged glass igloos beckoned, as did a night-cap and some hearty food in the main eatery.

The Northern Lights appeared in full glory - apparently - at about 3am the following morning. 

On Sunday we acclimatised. This primarily involved walking around outside and frequently counting digits.

On Monday, we started out with a four hour husky ride. If you like dogs - or just sledging - you'll love a husky ride.

When you arrive at the kennels, you hear the noise that 100 dogs can make. It's a lot. Not simply barking, but baying and howling. It was evidently a call of frustration, as when people arrive at their place, they know they're going for a run. And they love to run.

The two man sledge involves one person standing and controlling the brake, and the other sitting down. At this point, the latter of these two people quickly finds out if they are sufficiently layered up. As we took turn-about in these roles, we established that neither of us was.

Activity is your friend in that climate. Inactivity is genuinely painful.

The enjoyable part is standing on the sledge. You don't steer; the dogs in front of you know the way and they don't run into trees, albeit they may drag you through a few snowy branches from time to time. You can almost sense them grinning when they do.

From time to time, they stop (more accurately, you have to stop them). At this point they all roll around in the snow to cool off. The key here is keeping a reasonable distance from the sledge in front (assuming there is one). If you get too close then the dogs risk getting their ropes tangled, or simply fighting one another to pass the time.

When I was the sitter, I discovered another key risk involved when insufficient distance prevails between you and any dogs behind you. If one is close enough then it will pee on the nearest solid object. One did, on me. Nonchalantly. It laughed out loud, spurred on by its husky mates, all of whom were rolling around, of course.

There's an abundance of yellow snow, as if someone has just taken a joke too far.

For me, though, the most memorable thing was the late night ride on a snowmobile. Skating through a snow-covered forest on a powerful set of motorised skis with only the headlight of the craft illuminating the way is something I enjoyed far more than I'd expected. It's the only time in my life I've regretted not investing in a head camera.

The ice-fishing trip was off when we went, but with hindsight, a nine hour excursion involving much sitting around would command more layers each than we'd brought between us.

Kakslauttanen is an extraordinary place with much to offer. And of course it was apparent that it caters for the Santa searchers in the earlier months of winter and I'm sure many families will love that.

They'd put all the Santa paraphernalia away when we got there.

But the huskies are there all year round. They're not just for Christmas.

We never did see the borealis, or indeed any other auroras. I’m not bothered. It's simply a reason to return one day.