February 2022 - Crossing the Finnish line
Those of us lucky enough to be able to work from home have been in a privileged position during the pandemic, but nearly two years of laptop life in the living room from Monday to Friday has really taken the sparkle out of doing the same at the weekend - even if I'd be replacing my own workload with Captain Olivia Benson's. Last year I set myself a challenge of walking three thousand miles. A lot of it was local, but I eventually ranged further and further afield, swapping pavements and paths for tracks and trails. I yearned for space in a way I can't remember feeling before. I started 2022 fitter than I've probably ever been, and so when my friend Bumpers suggested a 'winter activities' break in the Finnish wilderness, I pulled on my Reebok high-tops and said 'joo!' Please understand, pre-lockdown the closest I'd get to 'being outdoorsy' was drinking two bottles of Chardonnay at your barbecue and chatting up a patio heater. People were justifiably surprised when I started seeking recommendations for base layers and insulated trousers. I got a lot of queries about what my travel insurance covered. It turns out their worries, and all the optional additions to my policy, were unwarranted. I am posting this having survived trekking through knee-deep snow in boots and snowshoes, snowmobiling, driving a sled pulled by six very hard working huskies and, in a true endurance challenge, spending several hours around a camp fire in the middle of the woods making conversation with some vegans from Richmond. I helped build the fire! Well, I remembered Bumpers had a lighter when the matches wouldn't catch, but without me those vegans wouldn't have had any hot berry juice. It was brilliant - especially the snowshoeing. Our guide, Janina, said I took to throwing my legs high and wide very naturally. I've even tested negative on my mandatory day two lateral flow swab on returning to the UK, so I'm calling the whole thing a triumph. We stayed at the Nellim Wilderness Hotel on Lake Inari - closer to Russia than Helsinki, where we transferred planes. I can't say enough great things about the place: I love that, like Gaston, they use antlers in all of their decorating; I love the snow boots they immediately swapped my ridiculous Reeboks for; I love the staff, who didn't really explain anything that was happening, but always looked so unruffled whilst ruffling hundreds of napkins that I never saw used, you could only be reassured; I (might be in) love with Petri, the snowmobile instructor who gave me second helpings of salmon stew in his warming hut and third helpings of his grey-eyed time when I had many, many burning questions about ice thickness; I love the on site gift shop full of knitwear and gnomes; I love the angry chef who magicked dinner's leftovers into breakfast delight; I love the husky puppies and the husky cocktails, both of which had quite sharp teeth; I love discovering the word kalsarikänni, which means getting drunk alone at home in your underwear. So, though I can sadly no longer sooth my lightly aching muscles in the private sauna that once nestled in the corner of my log cabin, I can indulge in a little kalsarikänni as I ponder my next adventure - I’m considering letting some lucky person take me right up the Allalinhorn. Nellim opens for its winter season in November. This post is not sponsored by them, but if they'd like to invite me back when I might actually see the northern lights, I'm happy to make myself available.
