A peculiar kind of Finnish extreme began already on the plane, on the Helsinki–Ivalo flight. Actually, what surprised me was the very need to fly further north for as long as we had already flown to Helsinki. "Even more, thousands of kilometers north? It seems the North Pole should be somewhere around there. Are you sure there is still land there?"
Well, let’s put it down to the geographical illusions that make up our picture of the world. The extreme was something else: our close-knit male company found itself on the plane surrounded by Finnish women with large families. Almost every one of them had two or three children in her arms. It must be said that women and children are the most beautiful thing in Finland. At first I was delighted: "Snow queens with sunny eyes!"
But the plane had barely taken off when the babies began, with the force of sledgehammers, pounding on the backs of our seats, screaming, scattering the toys brought by the stewardesses. Then they crawled all over the plane. One lay down in the aisle and for a long time patiently untied the laces on my sleeping neighbor’s boots. And the Finnish Barbies, with quiet happiness, silently beamed their cornflower-blue eyes at their offspring crawling in front of the wheels of heavy trolleys with provisions.
But everything comes to an end, and this flight was no exception. At Ivalo airport, a guy came up and... put a black woolen mask with just an opening for the eyes on each of our heads. Then another came and handed out warm bright-red overalls, boots, mittens, and helmets. They led us, already bright red, out and took us across a snowy wasteland somewhere beyond the airport. There, iron reindeer awaited us. Of course, we could have driven those 40 km to the Saariselkä resort by car, along a smooth road, but who needed that?
The briefing on riding snowmobiles ended almost as soon as it began. I caught only the last phrase: "If the snowmobile is damaged, your liability is 500 euros." I immediately got interested and started asking my friends which buttons to press. It turned out simple: one lever is the gas, another is the brake. A raised hand means: "I need help."
The narrow, winding road wound through the forest. We descended onto the ice of rivers and easily climbed their steep banks. The speed grew: 30, 40, 50... At a speed of 60–70 km/h, the trunks of fir trees flew past very close, reminiscent of Vysotsky’s song about "that stone that gave you peace." I involuntarily said hello and goodbye to each trunk, and the more I said goodbye to, the merrier it became. If you multiply all those fir trees by 500 euros, what a sum that would be! And if you multiply by the bones in your body, even more.
The Finns riding ahead stopped and pointed to the side. Turning our helmeted heads, we saw, just a few meters away, a crowd of reindeer, blue from the twilight, looking at us curiously with blue eyes among the blue fir trees. In the sky every star has a name, and in the Lapland tundra every reindeer has an owner. Having made sure we did not look like their owners, the reindeer retreated deep into the forest.
Halfway there, we stopped at a chum, that is, a hut, red and hot from the fireplace in the middle. Smoked reindeer soup cooked in reindeer cream. Asking about a restroom in the middle of the forest seemed like unnecessary cleverness to me. I thought, I’ll step behind the nearest tree – no one will see. And indeed – I plopped into the white fluff up to my neck, with only my head sticking out. I got out of the loose snow doggy-style, trying to smile pleasantly at the people who were laughing as they looked at me through the blazing chum window.
We traveled the rest of the way already in the dark. Although according to the rules, as we were told later, one instructor should ride in the back, the Finns found it more fun to ride together in front, and I ended up bringing up the rear. "It’s okay," I thought, "if I stall, I’ll raise my hand; this signaling method probably works after all." The end of the game was not quite realistic: a restaurant full of waltzing elderly Finns, like moths, and a sauna right in the hotel room. Game over.
And so it was almost every day. During this trip I saw even more snow than fir trees. It’s clear why Finns love the sauna so much – from the endless flicker of snow before your eyes alone, you already long to breathe in hot, fragrant steam. And we had that opportunity every day. However, I must admit that the bright-red overalls (they gave us the same ones everywhere, only with different patches) and heat-resistant boots do their job and don’t let you freeze. What I remember most was the "smoke sauna" in the "Igloo Village" near Saariselkä. A huge building made of giant logs with a tap from which beer flows – that’s the dressing room. And the sauna itself is small and dark. We steam ourselves and wonder: will this sauna heat us up enough to run to the ice hole or not?
The funniest thing about this "Igloo Village" is the two-person tents in the forest in the shape of glass hemispheres. Almost across the entire width of such a mini-planetarium is a double bed. These planetariums are usually rented out for one night by couples. I’ve heard about extreme sex in crowded places, but embarrassing the animals in the forest is something new. However, a person can also walk up to the lit hemisphere and watch – from inside, they won’t be noticed.
Once we chose a less passionate way of spending the night – in the Snow Castle in the town of Kemi. This castle is built of snow every year in a new design, so that those who have come more than once won’t be bored. But the set of pleasures remains unchanged: an ice restaurant with an ice bar, an ice table, and cranberry liqueur in ice mugs. Exhibition halls with ice sculptures. An ice chapel where people get married for whom the external ambiance is very important in a wedding. And the craziest thing is a snow hotel, where snow beds are covered only with snow-white reindeer skins.
The longest night of my life I spent in an unheated compartment of the winter train Kharkov – Moscow. Therefore, in this hotel with a temperature of minus 5, there was nothing new or attractive for me. After a night race on snowmobiles and an ice hole with simulated heating, it was hard to believe the Finns' assurances that no one would get sick. Of course, they themselves feel hot; the bartender of the ice restaurant walked around in a baseball cap, like a seal, and we are hot guys, we must not cool down.
But, as usual, there was one seeker of new sensations; the others laughed at him, tried to dissuade him, and then out of envy they all went together to lie down in an ice tomb. In the middle of the night I woke up drenched in sweat and opened up a bit. The Laplanders did not deceive: the down sleeping bag warms with terrible force; only the nose sticking out freezes a little. One thing I did not understand. Here, too, their main clientele are couples occupying double rooms. They got married in a snow chapel – and into a snow bed. Well, how do they do “it” in sleeping bags?
We rested, steamed in the morning – and again the race. In the reindeer race, the main difficulty is not letting the reindeer fall asleep along the way. With dogs it's the opposite – they are so eager to run that they squeal with impatience. As soon as you untie them, they shoot off like an arrow. The hardest part is stopping them. The sled is a two-seater: one passenger, the second stands on the runners, steers, and when necessary, presses the brake with all his weight. After braking at the end of the path, we, the drivers, stepped off the runners with relief. But the dogs had not yet fully enjoyed the run and bolted – with our comrades in a helpless state. We had to chase them – on other dogs. Sled dogs are modest hard workers; they are embarrassed in front of the lens, look away, almost blushing.
And again snowmobiles. Having mastered this equipment, we started to drive recklessly. Two “snow-disasters” happened at once. One overturned, and another, turning off the track, went under the snow along with his snowmobile. And here we were once again convinced that the most beautiful thing in life is real difficulties, when a friend helps a friend out. Or a complete stranger, which is no worse. Thank God, deep loose snow softens falls.
Kemi, on the shore of the Gulf of Bothnia, is remembered by me as the City of Ice. The embankment is decorated with many abstract ice structures, including painted ones. But this is only a prelude to the main event in the life of all tourists arriving in Kemi – riding the icebreaker “Sampo”. We chose the most interesting option for boarding the “Sampo”. First, we chased it on snowmobiles across the ice of the Gulf of Bothnia. Here the speed is higher than in the forest, but it is not as noticeable. We boarded the icebreaker right from the ice and then continued on it. We watched how the icebreaker breaks the ice, climbing onto it with its heavy bow. We wandered through the narrow corridors of the iron house. We climbed out over the railing to take photos at the very edge of the stern, above the greenish water of the bay churning from the propeller.
“This is a very dangerous place. You are forbidden to be here!” – shouted a sailor who appeared and then left, talking on his mobile phone, so quickly that we did not have time to take him seriously. So even here we were not deprived of the right to risk.
We had lunch. Then the most unusual thing began. The icebreaker made an ice hole, the tourists were put into survival suits designed for the case if the icebreaker sank, and lowered into the ice hole. From the side, it looked like dumplings with pepper: ice floes are the dumplings, and people in orange suits are the peppers. The suit does not allow you to sink, swim, or even assume a vertical position. Rarely do you get such an opportunity – to pay 200 euros to feel like a vegetable in soup, taking a break from the feeling of your own importance.
We returned home with trophies – a license to drive a reindeer, a certificate of crossing the Arctic Circle, reindeer hides, bottles of Lapland berry liqueur, and a bunch of funny photos. The familiar world expanded significantly to the north. And the Finns revealed themselves as quite daring people with a good sense of calm northern humor.