The Lure of the North

‘Please tell me how to not suck at this.’ I’m out of breath from chopping wood, but while Matt’s pile is growing at a steady rate, I am still only halfway through one stubborn log.

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‘First of all, you’re holding the axe wrong.’ Matt patiently comes over to deliver Wood Chopping 101, and soon I am building a satisfying pile of my own. I know he was a Scout, but after we silently spend nearly half an hour piling wood – mine haphazard and this-will-do, his a carefully constructed array of piles ranging from kindling to mid-sized burners – I truly appreciate the extent of my friend’s outdoor education.

Using the pulk that John had pulled behind his fatbike all day, we drag our piles of wood to the wilderness hut, where John long ago retired to when he understood that Matt and I had lost ourselves into the calming trance of wood chopping. It’s now gone completely dark, and when I’m not working up a sweat swinging an axe, I feel the cold instantly. But this is the magic of outdoor adventure in Finnish Lapland: situated at the corner of a small lake, near the wilderness trail we had been riding all day, is a sturdy wooden cabin, with nearby wood store (and axes to use), compost toilets, and cooking shelter. All of these amenities are free to use, and as the temperature drops close to minus 20, we’re very grateful.

Matt unsurprisingly takes over fire duties, and soon the cabin is warm enough inside to do with just one thick jacket. While Matt is on heating, and John on photography, I set myself to my own outdoor skills passion: drinking water. Melting snow is an undeniably satisfying experience, just trust me.

As we roll out our sleeping bags on the simple wooden platform, enjoying the warmth of the stove and feeling rejuvenated after some food (Matt and John thoroughly enjoying the Makkara), we can finally laugh at the day we’ve had.

Fatbiking is probably one of the least convenient ways to get anywhere, especially when a pulk is involved. Our day culminated in chaos when we had to descend a steep staircase to reach our hut – a staircase that had turned into a slide, iced over before our arrival. Getting laden bikes and runaway pulk down the slide had been frustrating, dangerous, and hilarious. Everyone fell down into the snow, or even into the trees, at various points in the day. It’s hard not to laugh at ourselves and each other.

The Karhunkierros Wilderness Trail is everything I could have hoped for. We’re lucky that the winter trail had just officially opened the day prior, meaning the singletrack route through the endless Lapland forest had been freshly groomed, and it was impossible to get lost. The sparkling white trail snaked through ancient forest, and riding ahead on my own for a while, I felt like I was in a painting. Only the occasional crossing of moose tracks on the trail hinted at life beyond the thick trees, and the air was so cold on my face it felt as if the world had literally frozen in place.

For the first part of this journey, we are travelling as a team – a warm-up (no pun intended) before I set out on my own. I love to travel solo and designed this trip to be about experiencing the extremes in cold and darkness.

We left the village of Ruka early that morning, keen to get the few hours of daylight afforded in February. We followed an icy, straight, quiet road, typical of northern Scandinavia, until we found the turn-off into the forest. Instantly our tyres sank into the fresh snow of the trail, and the sound of three sets of rear derailleurs clicking down into easier cogs to cope with the harder effort was the only sound in the forest. We stopped a few times to faff with our equipment. The delicate balance of body temperature while exercising at –17°C is a serious matter, and the trick is to never get so warm that you start to sweat, but never get so cold that you’ll struggle to warm up. I personally had five layers on top and three on the bottom, plus toe warmers to keep my feet online while pedalling. I frankly couldn’t fathom John and Matt’s commitment to photography, taking their gloves off when they saw a good shot. I wasn’t taking my thick ski mittens off for anybody that day.

While taking a photo break, the two men suddenly grabbed their cameras and raced towards me. The tuft of hair sticking out from under my hood had frozen in pleasing little icicles, and (while I worried about what this meant for my split ends) the two of them zoomed their lenses towards my shoulder to get the perfect shot.

I grew up with this kind of cold, standing outside waiting for the school bus in the morning while my hair froze. Playing outside in these temperatures again in Lapland, I felt like I was tapping into a long-lost side of myself. I forgot how doable it actually is. Most humans on Earth live in places that avoid such extremes, and I guess I had begun to believe, along with the global population, that extreme cold just isn’t attractive – not to mention incompatible with life for a human body. But here, in Finnish Lapland, the locals just simply get on with it.

More than that, they embrace it. It’s evident in the criss-crossing trail networks with paths stamped out by fatbikes, skis, snowshoes, and sleds. People here don’t wait for winter to be over; they adapt their dress code and get outside to enjoy the perfect snowy trails. Everyone we meet during our time in Ruka is encouraging about my plan to cycle the full trail and sleep in the shelters along the way. No-one warns me or worries for me. Their loving enthusiasm for the coldest, darkest days surely conveys a lesson for how we should all live our lives.

Matt keeps the fire raging and it’s a luxury to be so warm in this place. While he tends to the stove, I keep my small-pot snow-melting business going, and John surprises me by pulling some red wine out of the Mary Poppins Pulk. I love a good, gnarly, challenging, uncomfortable bike journey; I especially love it when it ends with wine by the fire and the company of some great friends.

The following morning, after clambering back up the ice slide with heavy bikes, luggage, and our pulk, Matt and John return to Ruka after our warm-up ride. Meanwhile I set out from the start of the trail once more – this time on a mission to ride the whole length.

On my own, it’s serene. I thought I might be afraid, especially when darkness falls in the afternoon, as I am so incredibly isolated in these deep woods. But I feel embraced. The Finns have some great folk tales about the spirit life in the forests, and I wonder if I am being cared for by some elves. I stumble upon fresh moose footprints and keep my eyes peeled for these gentle giants. But mostly, there is utter stillness, aside from this one lonely rider pushing ever so slowly through the soft, glittering snow.

The sun is not up for long in February, so the sky changes colour throughout the afternoon before darkness settles in again. It’s simply mesmerising. In the dark, I have only the beam of my headlamp to follow, and around me the marshmallow trees loom, branches occasionally reaching out to snag my arms and legs in narrow segments of the trail.

I make a deal with myself to not get scared in the dark. It goes against human nature to be comfortable here: it’s –20°C, pitch dark, and I’m miles away from any help. To my right side, the Russian border is close, just across the frozen river below. It all sounds very risky, on paper, to be sending my bike down fast little slopes where I can’t see on either side, the air so cold that if I stop to check my map I start shivering in an instant. But I don’t feel like I’m at risk. I don’t feel scared at all as I bed down in another hut for the night.

In the morning, the sun rises lazy and late over the frozen lake in front of the hut. I take my time and cycle back to the village to meet up with the team. We speak to more locals whose eyes glitter with enthusiasm as they tell us of all the possible adventures to be had in their hidden corner of the world, I take a freezing lake dip, and we fall madly and irrevocably in love with winter in Lapland.

Ruka–Kuusamo Destination Guide

Deep Winter in Finnish Lapland

Mid-February in Ruka–Kuusamo: deep snow, sub-zero temperatures, and short days where the light remains low and gentle. It’s a region built for movement through the cold: fatbiking, hiking, or skiing through silent forests; warming up in wood-fired saunas; finding shelter in remote cabins scattered across the wilderness.

Here are some of the places that shaped our journey.

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Stay // Ruka Ski Village Apartments

Right in the heart of the resort, Ruka Ski Village offers a perfect base for winter travel – ski-in/ski-out access, everything you need within a short walk, and even the comfort of a private sauna in every apartment (the Finnish really do love their saunas!).

Ruka itself is one of Finland’s most prominent winter destinations. In addition to a large and well-established ski resort, there’s an extensive network of trails stretching far into the surrounding wilderness.

There are plenty of places to eat in the village, but Pizzeria Ruka stood out for us: welcoming, tasty (with a fair few local specialities – reindeer pepperoni anyone?) and exactly what you need after a long day out in the cold.

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Ride // Fatbiking the Winter Wilderness Trail

The Ruka–Kuusamo region is defined by a vast trail network – hundreds of kilometres with different uses for summer and winter, when many of the trails remain open and are groomed and maintained for winter activities.

Our journey led us out from Ruka village and deep into the surrounding forests, linking sections of the winter wilderness trail towards Oulanka National Park and beyond. It’s a way of travelling that pulls you fully into the landscape.

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Move // Other Ways through Winter

Many people move through this landscape in quieter, more traditional ways. Cross-country skiing is woven into daily life here, with an extensive network of groomed tracks connecting forests, lakes, and villages.

Snowshoeing is another popular way to explore – slower, more deliberate, and ideal for stepping off trail into deeper snow. And for many, simply walking through the winter forest becomes an experience in itself – following packed paths beneath heavy trees. Each method offers a different rhythm, but all share the same connection to the landscape.

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Shelter // The Wilderness Hut Network

One of the most special elements of travelling here is the network of open wilderness huts and cabins scattered across the region. Simple, warm, and often left unlocked, they offer shelter for anyone moving through the landscape – a place to light a fire, melt snow, rest, and reset before continuing.

In deep winter, these huts shape how you travel, how far you go, and when you stop. They are primarily maintained by Metsähallitus (the Finnish Forest and Park Service) and funded by taxpayers. The culture of these huts is extraordinary, with an etiquette to chop wood for the next visitor and keep them clean. At each hut we visited, we found dry toilets, fire pits, cooking areas, and extensive wood stores.

Top tip: be sure to take a pack of Makkara (sausages) to grill on the fire, served with bread and mustard. Matt and John thought this was the best local tradition ever!

Explore // Basecamp Oulanka

Set on the edge of Oulanka National Park, Basecamp Oulanka is a gateway to deeper wilderness.
Here we met Timo Lampila, a local wilderness guide whose deep knowledge of the landscape brought the area to life – from the rhythms of the forest to the subtle ways of moving through it. Walking with him offered a perspective grounded in patience, awareness, and a genuine connection to nature.

The camp itself is built around a strong sustainability ethos, with simple, comfortable accommodation and meals rooted in local ingredients: salmon, reindeer, and seasonal produce. From here, the wilderness feels immediate.

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Experience // Palosaari Reindeer and Fishing Farm

Run by local reindeer herders Mika and Satu Palosaari, Palosaari Reindeer and Fishing Farm reflects a way of life shaped by the seasons and the land. Mika’s warmth and openness make the experience feel personal – from feeding the reindeer to sharing stories around the fire, you gain a real sense of what it means to live and work in this environment. Our favourite quote from Mika: ‘It’s not a performance – it’s everyday life.’

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Stay // Isokenkäisten Klubi

Remote and atmospheric, Isokenkäisten Klubi sits deep in the forest near the eastern border. Smoke saunas, frozen lake dips, and long meals built around local ingredients define the experience. A plunge through the ice followed by the heat of the sauna is as intense as anything on the trail.

Out on the frozen lake in winter, the overwater aurora huts offer something unique – small cabins set on the ice where you can lie in the dark and watch the northern sky.
Put simply, it’s breathtaking.

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Time spent in Ruka–Kuusamo is about learning how to move through winter. The cold shapes everything. The light is brief. Distances feel longer. But in that, there’s a rhythm – one that rewards patience, resilience, and a willingness to slow down and lean into the experience.

Look out for the film from this journey later this year

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