In the headlights of a van, a small group of tourists in insulating suits, life jackets, helmets, headlamps and neoprene gloves are struggling. All of this has to somehow get onto the body, which is already in a snow suit, because nobody wants to feel the icy water on their skin later on. Around the parking lot of a highway on the southern edge of Lapland there is only black and white – black night and white snow. There must be a black ribbon behind the trees, the river. And there it goes, to the so-called River Floating.
Warmly wrapped up, everyone waddles like penguins one behind the other into the forest, trudging through deep snow under thickly snow-covered branches on the bank up to the entry point. It’s before 5 p.m., but it’s already dark at night in Kuusamo, Finland. The area now only has three to five hours of light to offer. Sheets of ice break off the shore as we step into the river. You can feel the cold and pressure of the water on your legs and its power as it tugs at the top layer. Further in we should then lean back once morest the flow and stretch the soles of our feet in the direction of the flow.
The result: we’re floating like logs on the Kitkajoki, which has a good speed here at the Kiveskoski rapids. But how should you steer? Somehow rowing with the legs. It is better to keep your hands on your stomach because water can get into the gloves. You should also not turn your head too much to the side, because water can slosh in around your face and neck. The headlamp slips, that’s not good, because nobody might see me and fish out once more if it weren’t on my head anymore. Does not matter. We should relax and enjoy, they said. The view goes to the sky, but ends at the illuminated little flakes. Ideally there would be no snow and no clouds, but northern lights. Green streaks in the sky, magical signs. But you can’t order them.
A word for snow hanging from branches
Yes, the guide said earlier when asked if we had a chance of seeing the Northern Lights. Maybe he has to, so as not to take away the tourists’ hope. We were still standing in a shop that looked like a typical ski rental shop, except that the adventure tours start there. Outside, the ski resort of Ruka, which might just as easily be in the Alps. Built from scratch in the 1950s, Finland’s largest ski resort is 800 kilometers north-east of Helsinki with 200 snow days a year. Behind a pagoda-shaped underground car park entrance, sports shops, après-ski karaoke bars and hotel blocks, skiers somersault over jumps. The World Cup took place here at the end of November. They are not long, the slopes, but they are steep. Of course, for Central Europeans it would be a bit crazy to come here just to ski. But you can also explore nature and book arctic adventures: husky sledding, reindeer trips, snowmobile tours, ice climbing. Or float in ice-cold rivers. Some say this is Lapland because it sounds so good for marketing. In fact, right here in the extreme east of the country, the border with the northernmost region makes a nasty swerve upwards and avoids Kuusamo.
With insulating suits, life jackets, helmets, headlamps and neoprene gloves, you can go river floating through the Finnish night.
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Photo: Anja Martin
Just below the summit of Rukatunturi, at an altitude of 430 meters, Piritta Liikka has just finished her yoga class, which she gives regularly. A few locals come down the stairs chatting, go to their cars and drive into the valley. Everything around is thickly dusted with white, as if a confectioner had run out of powdered sugar: the pulleys of the ski lifts, the tree trunks, the houses, the delineators. Because of the moisture, the snow sticks to everything. The trees look like strangely melted white candles. “Tykkylumi” is what the Finns call the snow that hangs like a balloon on the branches. It can be so heavy that trees break.