We can't afford losing the pristine Arctic nature (DCPD-201700589)

I survived the slippery drive to Kittila to pick up some friends who would be staying with me at Levi Ski Resort. Before I left Ukraine, some Finn acquaintances lamented that I was going to Levi at the wrong time because there would be no snow for skiing. Mother nature disagreed. Still, per schedule the slopes were mostly inoperational. Only two lifts were functioning. We took one, Gondoli2000, to the top of the highest peak (top left). We considered hiking across the ridge to the other lift, but the wind convinced that a circuit around the nature trail was sufficient (top right). Some wiser walkers than us knew about the public barbecue grills along the trail (bottom left). While we pulled our hoods tighter to cover our cold cheeks, they pulled out sausages to grill over an open flame (bottom right). 

After a weekend of friend fun at the resort, I set out for my solo expedition. I crossed the Arctic Circle at a cheesy rest stop near Rovaniemi (top). I wasted only enough steps to gather some tourist information before I continued to Pyha-Luosto National Park. I was planning to do a hike to the top of the ski slopes there, but they were so clouded in (bottom left), I decided it wasn't appealing nor advisable, considering the route could be dangerous alone. Instead, I took a solitary spin around a fitness trail at the bottom of the mountains (bottom right).

The next day, I had similar bad luck when I went out to explore Urho Kekkonen National Park. When I arrived at the Kiilopaa Fell Center, the fact that it was overcast was as clear as day (top left). But that didn't deter me from my planned hike up Kiilopaa Hill. Halfway up, the wind picked up, but I pressed on, anticipating the views that were to come (top right). But when I finally got to the top, the lookout was inundated by all-encompassing clouds and face-smacking gusts (bottom left). I got a bit of a view on the way back down, but the cloud layer cropped off the top of my panorama (bottom right).

My second hike for the day was more weather-proof. I started from the ski resort of Saariselka (top left). Although the Rumakuru Trail would orient me toward some more overcast peaks (top right), I would be staying below the clouds. The sun even managed to sneak out when I reached the new Rumakuru hut (middle). I could've warmed myself with some embers in the nearby fire pit (bottom left), but I enjoyed a snack amid the greenhouse effect of the cabin's interior (bottom right) before I circled back to my car.

But I saved the best for last when it came to hiking during my trip. I thought my best intentions were going to be thwarted again when I saw a tarp across the trail near Inari, but thankfully, it was only a reindeer-herding device (top left). I ducked under and into an incredible landscape. I crossed numerous rock-strewn streams (top right). One was was partially frozen, and the ice shards on top tinkled together like pieces of a wind chime (bottom left). That and the slight rustling of leaves were pretty much the only sounds breaking the silence (bottom right).

 

 

In fact, it was so eerily quiet when I reached Pielpajarvi Wilderness Church that I felt a bit like I was about to be killed off in a horror film (top). The church is still used but unlocked, so anyone can open the doors and windows to explore. I thought I would enjoy my lunch amid the liturgy, but my skin crawled when I pulled open the creaky wooden doors and peered into the spooky pews (bottom left), so I backtracked to the nearby hiker's hut to eat in more cozy environs (bottom right). 

 

I had to reach one of the most impressive natural sites of my trip by car, twisting through narrow roads carved into sheets of stone (top left). Eventually, the highway spit me out into the northern Norwegian coastal city of Alta and the grand expanse of the Altafjord (top right). The glaciers provided a breathtaking background as I toured Alta Museum (middle left). The staff at the UNESCO World Heritage Site told me the rock carvings are easier to see on a sunny day (middle right), but I didn't mind -- especially not after enjoying coffee and cake with a view (bottom).

 

 

Unfortunately, the coffee shop at Faboda Beach, near Jakobstad, was shuttered for the season (left). But a hot beverage was not as necessary there, as the temperatures were much warmer. I suspect ancient civilizations once carved petroglyphs into the outcroppings there as well (right), but on this day, the modern tribes were simply clambering over the slick stones, enjoying the fading sun.

 

100-meter avoidance distance from any arctic animals (83FR6522)

When I left Kemi, to pick up friends in Kittila, locals warned me to watch out for reindeer near Rovaniemi. I thought it was a bit of a joke, considering the city is known as Santa Claus Town. But lo and behold, I had to brake for crossing herds of Santa's wingmen a couple of times (top left). Some of them were particularly hard to spot because of their coloring, but on the way to Alta, it was easier to spy the white ones with the sun fully out (top right). They are fascinating beasts, so I felt a little bad when I ate lunch at Kokkojaevel Hoftepluss in Alta. But I gave myself a pass, chalking it up as a cultural experience -- I wasn't the only one eating reindeer stew at the mall (bottom). 

Perhaps it was a betrayal, though, to the resident reindeer at Levi Husky Park, with whom I shared an intimate moment (top left). Actually, Taigo, is a bit of a player; addicted to ginger snaps, he will give up a kiss to anyone who offers a cookie by mouth or by hand (top right). In full season, you can take sleigh rides pulled by the media darling (Taigo is the official reindeer for Levi advertising), but with just a thin layer of snow, we could only take a tour of the facility, which houses much more than huskies (bottom left). As the guide told us, the owner, Reijo, is a dog-sledding champion who now trains many kinds of animals (bottom right).

Among the trainees are a red fox, who does various tricks on cue for treats (top left), and an arctic fox, who is one of the few available in the world for commercials (top right). There's also a pair of raccoon dogs, which unlike wolfdogs are not a crossbreed between the two. Still, they did seem to be a lot like a mixture between a yippy-barking Pomeranian and a garbage-riffling rodent (middle). But of course, I was most smitten by the Siberian huskies, from a retired 13-year-old runner (bottom left) to a litter of puppies that we got to hold (bottom right).

I was greeted by a slightly older, livelier pack of pups when I arrived solo at Engholm Design Husky Lodge (top). The focus at the facility in Karasjok, Finland, is solely excursion tours, so the many dogs are far from purebred Siberian huskies, and some don't look like typical sled dogs (bottom left). Some of them looked so much like Sage that I felt at home when they greeted me at the paddock in the morning (bottom right).

 

I felt the dogs' presence at night, too, because I could occasionally hear their howling from my cabin, which was less than 50 feet from the paddock (top left). I listened from the cabin's insulated interior, but according to a drawing in the guest book, someone had enjoyed the porch in warmer days (top right). The all-natural construction materials, including a fur-lined swing, made it feel a bit like you were outdoors (middle). The place was so cozy, I would've been happy to stay for a few more days (bottom left). I honestly didn't even mind eating my friend-halloumi dinner alone by candlelight (bottom right).  

 

 

After all, I had to fuel up for a morning of training with the dogs. My first assignment was to greet all 60-plus pups while the staff set up equipment. Once the reins were ready, the first team was set loose to run around the paddock, letting off some initial energy so they can be more focused (left). Then the dogs were lined up and put in harnesses, which I learned to use after a quick demonstration (right). 

When it's not yet winter, the dogs train by running in front of a four-wheeler, which I rode on the back of as two teams did their 45-minute loops (top left). The dogs obviously could've run longer: they got antsy when we stopped to admire the Karasjok River (top right). They were more agreeable when we stopped for a break at a stream the staff had dammed to create a wading pool/watering hole (bottom left). The dogs would run without reward, but when they finished, I got to give them whale-meat treats to recognize their hard work (bottom right).