Age needn’t be a barrier to the practice and enjoyment of B&SS. On April Fool’s Day I set out for Heathrow with Hazel, my 79-year-old friend from school days, and Mike, my 77-year-old husband, to catch a flight to Oslo and then on to Alta in Northern Norway. A three hours’ drive in softly-falling snow through breathtakingly beautiful mountains brought us to Hetta, the main village in the province of Enontekio, 300km inside the Arctic Circle and one of Europe’s last great wilderness regions.
There we spent ten days on my daughter’s husky farm, enjoying all the winter activities on offer to clients in this vast pristine landscape. It was Anna’s special treat to mark my 81st birthday. Unlike in the more touristy Lappish destinations further South, the bulk of their clients had ended at the end of March but April, with its long sunny days, is a wonderful month in the far North. It is the month when the locals go out to play.
Having met Simon, Olivia, Chris, George and Dave Watson at the Great Outdoors Show a few days earlier, the subject of Bushcraft & Survival Skills was fresh on my mind and I soon found myself living what I had previously been reading about.
Waking up on my birthday, I looked out on deep-blue skies and a vast snow-covered land, glistening in the sunshine. After breakfast we dressed warmly and approached the puppies’ kennels. Anna’s parents-in-law and sister-in-law were there with us, but her husband, Pasi, was in Karelia, taking his final ski-guiding exam. Anna was hoping that he would be home a little more in the future, following a year in which he had attempted to paddle around Spitzbergen for a month and had completed, in two months, the first Finnish unsupported expedition to the South Pole. But she had never been alone on the farm. As well as employing experienced husky guides, the farm has a rotating trainee husky handling programme in operation for anyone keen to volunteer to spend at least a month of their time in the Arctic.
We met the three current volunteers – Matt and James, childhood friends from the UK who had come out for a last adventure before settling down in London and Sandhurst, respectively, and Lotte, from Belgium, who was thinking about becoming a wilderness guide. Matt was out in the sunshine using a circular saw to make wooden window frames. Lotte was training the pups by skijoring around short loops (skiing whilst being pulled by one or two dogs) and James was preparing the evening food. All were obviously happy in that environment!
The puppies, all 20 of them, had been born in the autumn when Pasi in Antarctica. My eye fell on Arrow - blue eyed, gentle and very pretty. I was thrilled to learn that her mother was Princess, whom I became attached to on my visit in December 2007. Anna lifted the puppies, one by one, out of the cages and attached a lead to each harness. Then off we set, each leading a puppy, one behind the other, on a beautiful nature walk. From time to time we issued commands to the dogs, training them to respond. ‘Gee’ (turn right), ‘haw’ (left) and ‘alas’ (sit) were soon part of our vocabulary. Arrow was a perfect pupil. The air was so pure and invigorating and the silence across the vast expanse of wilderness so welcome, that I knew my 81st birthday was going to surpass all others.
Soon, I noticed spoor and tracks of reindeer and I thought of Ian Maxwell who had been prominent at the wilderness camp at the Great Outdoors show. I stood, remembering some of the tracking articles in the magazine, as I tried to work out the direction in which the reindeer had been moving. We were in Sami country, where the chief occupation is reindeer husbandry. Everywhere we went we would find tracks and spoor. In the whole province there are more reindeer than people but there are also many wild animals, and even a bear apparently hibernating less than 2km from the farm. I made a note to get a lesson on the various spore (fox, deer, mink etc) from Pasi when he returned since I knew that he runs winter and summer courses for Survival Guild Finland.
Across the road from the husky farm is Minna’s Reindeer Farm where we spent our second last morning. Minna keeps 18 two-year-old reindeer on the farm training them to be ‘tame’ so that she can both open her farm to the public in the winter and use them to pull sleighs for Santa visitors in December. Whilts on the farm, each one is tethered to a tree but they return to their main herd (of >1000 deer) each summer to run wild again. We accompanied her on her morning’s feeding. The reindeer are fed a mixture of hay, pellets and sphagnum moss that is collected from the woods in the autumn. Most of the animals we saw had lost their antlers, and were growing new ones. One had come off that morning and she collected the pieces to sell to a local craftsman who would treat them and turn them into ornaments or utensils or tools.
Whole antlers are also in demand. Anna and Pasi had two large antlers that they had been given that needed treatment before they could be displayed since the skull pieces still contained hair that would need to be boiled off. I wasn’t too upset that we didn’t manage to get to that task.
On Minna’s farm, each building was covered in drying skins. She sells them, untreated, (and therefore in a waterproof condition) to local safari companies for about 25 euro each. Other herders soften and treat their skins so that they can be sold as indoor rugs through souvenir shops for around 70 euro. Obviously, however, the reindeer are primarily kept for their meat, and at various times over the 10 days people would use the knives that nearly everyone seemed to carry to cut us slivers from one of the smoked, dried reindeer meat slabs that many also carried around. I found the meat rather strong in flavour and tougher than I like meat to be but it is a local delicacy.
The variety of knives amazed me and, as I studied them in the shops, I thought of Dave Budd. Pasi owns some really beautiful specimens, some hand-carved trophies from various sporting events and others designed for the various tasks that you need different types of knives for when you live constantly in the wilderness. In Lapland, many people carry two knives all the time. The heavier knives are used to cut branches and even small trees for fires and their shorter knife, with a sharper blade, is used for calving kindling, spoons / as a general tool. By carrying the two knives, they can do without carrying an axe with them every time they head out into nature. Every knife had a beautifully carved handle and its own sheath. A small model costs from 26 euros.
On the evening of my birthday we enjoyed a barbecue in a traditional lavu (also known as a kota / tipi) in the middle of the farm. The second lavu, covered with a cloth waste-product from a local paper mill (the fabric upon which the paper rolls, which is replaced sporadically), was a store for the reindeer hides and dog equipment. In our lavu, the dry birch- and pine-wood cut and dried since the previous Spring for both kindling and building material, soon had a huge log fire blazing merrily and we had skewered vegetables and tin-foil ‘surprise’ packages cooking happily. Hetta is right on the boundary of the treeline. Spruce cease c. 20km South and Pine, c. 20km North – after that, there is only arctic tundra interspersed, in the lowlands and some river valleys with some scarce birch.
Had Pasi been there, he would have ‘crucified’ a salmon – a traditional method of preparation in which the salmon is nailed upright and cooks slowly in the glare of the fire. We will have to return for that. The light came from our Petzl head torches and we sat on wooden benches covered in reindeer hides and drank gloggi (a non-alcoholic version of mulled wine). Matt and James – and an earlier volunteer called JD - had built an igloo close to the lavu. Matt explained that they had built it upwards using a snow box to consolidate the snow before stacking the layers – an adaptation on the traditional method. Hazel and I slept in the igloo that night, toasty and warm in five season Rab and Marmot sleeping bags on top of, and covered, by reindeer skins. What an experience! I woke up in the middle of the night on the cold lower floor, having somehow rolled off my sleeping platform. As I struggled back into position, flakes of ice fell from the wall on to my face! I feel fortunate, in hindsight, that it was -22 degrees Centigrade that night since the structure finally collapsed in the warm days of the following week.
Next time I decided to spend a night in Hetta’s magical Ice Castle. The owner opened it for us one evening. It is a magnificent piece of snow architecture, and it lasts through the winter. There are four double bedrooms, a little chapel, a dining-room, sitting room and various other chambers. The owner told us it was built using giant plastic balloons over which the ski slope machines blow their commercially-manufactured snow. The entrance door and the furniture inside are sculpted from blocks of ice that they dig out of the frozen lake. We sat on tree stumps covered with reindeer hide cushions, around the ice block tables and enjoyed hot chocolate and biscuits. At the height of the winter season, guests dine and sleep there. The food is brought in from the hotel across the road. The castle melts in the summer and a new construction is designed each year.
Most days we went out on a husky safari. The sleds were lined up and the huskies were collected, one by one, from their kennels and put in place within the boundaries of the farm. The farm was circled by fencing to ensure that there would be no escapes that could worry the reindeer herders. At each end, there was a huge gate constructed by hand. We learned how to attach the harnesses; ‘this piece over the head and then draw the legs through these straps before attaching to the line!’ ‘What Knot?’ I asked, as Anna bade me tie the restraining rope to a post. The modified slip knot didn’t look very secure but it certainly withstood a great deal of strain as the huskies barked and jumped in their eagerness to be underway. Anna told me that she had learned, that winter, from another instructor on the Cotswold Winter Skills she had run in the Lyngen Alps in Norway, that the abalakhov anchor – an anchor that climbers make by threading tat / rope through triangulated holes formed in ice, by ice-screws, so as to avoid leaving pieces of equipment being them on descents, and attributed to the Russian climber, Abalakhov – was, in fact, one of the first anchors used by the inuit to keep dogs teams in place.
Our safaris were over distances of between 15 and 20km, through woods and across frozen lakes and marshes. I usually went with Anna in the front sled with Liz and Princess as our lead dogs. We had a break before returning so that the dogs could rest and we could warm ourselves while enjoying food and hot drinks. Last summer Pasi’s parents built themselves a log cabin on a hillside on the far side of the 20km (frozen) lake that Hetta is built beside. There is no electricity available there and, in the summer, the only access is by boat / by a long detour on semi-dry terrain around the lake itself. As with many Finnish holiday homes, it is easier to access in winter by foot, ski, skidoo or dog sledge. We used it as our rest stop most days and one of us would immediately get a log fire going for some cosy light and warmth whilst the others would prepare a snack, collect more wood from the log shed, try their luck fishing through the ice, or keep an eye on the waiting dogs. The toilet building housed a compost toilet which seemed similar to the ‘wooden seats over buckets’ of my childhood. It was basic in terms of modern comforts but he peace, solitude and beauty that await you are worth the journey.
Our longest safari took us to a remote kota (wooden hexagonal structure) where groups can sleep. There I helped light the big log fire, remembering Dave Watson’s instructions! Pasi produced his all-purpose knife and I did what George demonstrated at the Outdoors Show, ie, splitting a log with an axe and then cutting slivers into the smaller pieces to start the fire going. We started with the quick-lighting silver birch logs and then progressed to the slower burning pine. There were logs stacked all around the kota, under the benches. Soon a great fire was blazing. We had used matches to light it, since they argued that there was no point in making normal life harder than necessary. However, I had spotted a firelighter and a small tin of ‘Light my Fire’ Maya dust in the daypacks, so I guess that they were there for emergencies. Before leaving, we made sure the fire was out and that fresh fire-starting wood was available for the next visitors! Finnish Lapland has a huge network of open cabins maintained and stocked, with wood, by the Ministry of Forestry. Some of them even have beds that can be pre-booked and these certainly make the long wilderness journeys that are common undertakings by Finns, more comfortable.
It was a special thrill for me to drive the huskies. You learn the drill first, under the headings: Starting-point; Turning; Control of speed and stopping; Counter-balance; Ascents and descents. With your feet on the skis and the wind blowing in your face while the eight dogs in your team tear across the snow, you are transported. It is thrilling, exhilarating and you feel free and at one with nature and the history of the far North. Matt and James usually accompanied our dog safari by skidoo, one in front and the other behind, ready to rush to the aid of any driver in trouble. However, we were told that on the longer client journeys with the dogs, the clients generally gained sufficient mastery that they could go into the wilderness unaccompanied.
During one rest period I drove a skidoo on the lake with Anna as in pillion. I found it scarier than driving the huskies since it didn’t seem as natural. They are noisy machines and the two stroke versions come with a strong smell of petrol fumes. However, skidoos are a boon for the modern Sami, enabling them to reach the reindeer that can travel vast distances through very remote areas. Their ‘traditional’ way of life would no longer be possible without this modern machine.
Back on the farm, we spent each afternoon on a ‘task of the day’ alongside the volunteers; helping them to make puppy name signs for when they would all get their own kennels, burning the bases of the cut trees that would become stakes for the running area in the summer, repairing the running lines etc. Sometimes the volunteer’s job was to look after us. One bitterly cold evening Anna dropped Matt, James, Hazel, Michael and me off at the entry to a high ridge between two lakes. We had been there in the Autumn to glory in the fall colours so we knew the area. At the roadside we fitted our snowshoes to our boots, and set off into the woods. Anna said she’d pick us up again in an hour’s time. Too slow for the boys, they went ahead to catch the sunset from the ridge, leaving us to the valley. I soon realised that my gloves were insufficient and hot aches started to shoot up and down my arms, making me feel sick to the stomach with the pain. I snapped at my husband and friend to leave me alone, unable to concentrate on anything other than my fingers and blowing life back into them. Everywhere, I could see tracks of reindeer and I longed to catch a glimpse of these elusive creatures. Each painful step brought me back closer to the road and to rescue. A soak in a Jacuzzi and a sauna soon made me forget the cold-inducing pain.
As we packed up to leave by car for Alta on the return journey, I hugged Princess tight, my tears falling on to her soft fur, and I knew that she understood. For ten days I had lived a life of freedom, far removed from all the ugliness and violence of our modern society. I feel privileged to have been part of the wilderness, part of eternity, for ten heavenly days.
You don’t mention winter navigation here, and this is the most important thing in Arctic Survival – maps are pretty different here and it is hard to match the map to the land in the winter when the marshes and lakes are frozen over and covered by snow. We didn’t have any very bad days whilst you were here but for those, when you are out in a white-out, we have the stakes in the snow marking the trails that we use so that we can be guided from one place to another. It is also no surprise that Scandinavians tend to be some of the best orienteers in the world, since the rolling, fairly featureless terrain is as challenging to navigate in, as it comes. You could talk about GPS or not too if you wanted.
The second most important thing here is being able to build a shelter and make a fire. You can always make a shelter from snow no matter where you are, here – but the job is made much easier if you have some kind of shovel with you. You could make a note about this around your igloo notes. An igloo is the most complicated shelter option to make, and it took our inexperienced volunteers 3 weeks of exasperating work – you can much more quickly make quinces / snow-caves / snow-holes (but you can also make an igloo in an afternoon if you put your mind to it and if the snow conditions are suitable).
Making water is then important – to do that, you need to be able to melt the snow (ie make a fire). We always took hot thermos flasks of water with us – and this is something that Scandinavians generally do when heading into the Wilderness, that Brits seldom do. But finding open water here, for 7 months of the year is very difficult so it is a basic survival tool to have hot, warming water readily available.
Travelling safely on ice through the whole winter season (when the ice is thin at the start and end etc) is also important. 95% of the ice surface is safe when moving on ice but you need to be aware of where there might be currents – eg where streams come into the lakes etc – since the ice in those spots can be very thin. Hence, when you were thinking about heading in to town on foot, one day, we tried to explain a few key places to look out for but it would have been quite difficult navigation for you even if you couldn’t really ‘get lost’.
