“Make sure you follow my tracks,” warns our snowmobiling guide, Martti Kiviniemi. “Otherwise, there’s a risk.”
“A risk of what?” I ask, really not wanting to hear the answer.
“It’s possible to take a bath in minus-20-degree water.”
A hot shot of panic runs through me. We’re standing on an enormous frozen lake in remotest northern Lapland, about to take snowmobiles out to go ice fishing. Ever since watching a film where a boy gets trapped beneath ice on a lake, this has been a big fear of mine. I consider baling, but then I remind myself that I chose to do this – that it has been my dream for years to see the Northern Lights (aurora borealis), go husky mushing, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, and – yes – snowmobiling across a pristine wintry wilderness. That I’ve paid handsomely for three days of frosty fun in Finland: outdoor adventures by day, aurora hunting by night.
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So, it’s snow showdown.
After a safety talk, helmets are on, and we’re off across the flat white expanse of Menesjärvi (järvi is “lake” in Finnish). Other than it being nigh-on impossible to keep a steady speed and the “flat” lake surface revealing itself to be anything but, it’s great. I’m not only alive, I’m living my dream – and it’s exhilarating, if a tad bouncy. I only feel sorry for my pillion passenger – my 22-year-old, August – who is getting a far bumpier ride.
Once at the fishing spot, Kiviniemi gets the gear out – augers to drill the holes, rods, metal scoops – and demonstrates how to fish. Having seen how thick the surface is, any fears of meeting an icy end melt away (or they would if it wasn’t minus-12 out). The auger proves tricky – it’s surprisingly hard going – but holes are duly drilled, shards of ice are scooped out, the rods go in, and we wait. And wait. I feel an oddly sharp prickling sensation in my nose. I am not prepared for what happens when I blow it: frozen snot. Well, that’s a first.
An hour later, not so much as a nibble and we’re all turning a whiter shade of pale, so we speed back to Hotel Korpikartano, our base for the duration.
A former boys’ boarding school, Hotel Korpikartano offers rustic, no-frills accommodation with a log-cabin vibe, hearty buffet-style meals, chilled staff, cosy rooms, and that Finnish staple, the sauna. You also have free use of cross-country skis, snowshoes and toboggans.
The hotel’s location within the tiny village of Menesjärvi, 300km north of the Arctic Circle, is idyllic, looking out over the lake and the wilds beyond. Being literally miles from anywhere, there is very little artificial light – and any aurora hunter worth their thermals knows dark skies are best for optimal viewing.
At an aurora workshop with guide Heimo Isojunno, we learn about the science and the legends. My favourite origin story? That the lights are caused by a mythical creature, the firefox, who runs so fast across the snow that his tail causes sparks to fly into the night sky. (The Finnish word for the Northern Lights, “revontulet”, translates as “fire fox”.) A scarier explanation comes from the indigenous Sámi people, who in days gone by believed the lights to be returning souls of the dead.
After sunset we put our learning into practice, donning snowshoes to hunt the aurora on foot. Despite Isojunno’s best efforts to find a clear spot, and admirable patience with his stumbling snowshoe-novice charges, the clouds decide to spoil our aurora viewing, so we opt for mega-snowman building instead. Hilarity ensues when two of the group (yours truly included) faceplant in snowdrifts so deep we could get lost in them. Nice soft landing though.
Day two, and we’re off to spend the morning with fourth-generation Sámi reindeer herder Juha West and his octogenarian dad, Sulo. A minibus drops us off up a forest track, where snowmobile-sledges await to take us to a clearing deep among the pines. Around us, their 400-strong herd emerge from the forest like hushed ghosts while Juha and Suho scatter hay and pellets. Juha then lights a fire and feeds us mugs of thick grainy coffee and cinnamon buns while giving us a lesson in all things reindeer.
Turns out these perfectly adapted creatures have nature’s equivalent of antifreeze for blood, built-in night vision thanks to colour-changing eyes, hooves that splay to mimic snowshoes and enhanced blood circulation in their lower legs. Replete with reindeer facts, it’s back to base for lunch (reindeer stew – how fitting) and an afternoon of tobogganing.
At dusk, it’s back to the snowmobiles to try our luck hunting the aurora on the lake with guide Kimmo Laakso. I am nervous: how will I see Laakso’s snowmobile tracks in the dark? But wait, the aurora is out, beginning to light up in vivid green bands across the blackness, and my nerves give way to wonder. We’re already cameras out and noses to the sky when Laakso herds us aboard the snowmobiles, and we set off – but only after he promises to pause along the way for photos and a good gawp.
The sky is now a multihued palette of light just about everywhere you look: curtains and ribbons of brilliant green, blue, purple and pink. I begin to see why in times past people were fearful of this most gorgeous natural phenomenon. Absolutely nothing compares to watching the lights up close and personal. Tears prick my eyes. I’m getting goosebumps. It’s hard to explain, but it’s a very grounding, soul-nurturing experience, bearing witness to nature playing artist in the heavens. It’s simply overwhelming.
Snowmobiles immobilised, myself and August just can’t tear ourselves away from the aurora, still tripping the light fantastic. We stand for a good hour in silence on the lake, just soaking it all in. Frigid digits be damned. Eventually I turn to August: “I can die happy now.”
Day three dawns bright and clear, and there’s another bucket-list activity to try: husky mushing. We meet Alan Slominski of Slominski Arctic Safaris on the lake, where his energetic dog teams are springing about and howling in anticipation. Another safety briefing (“Whatever you do, do NOT step off the brake!”) and we’re off. Alan follows the teams by snowmobile, making sure all is well with dog and human.
Turns out I was born to do this: driving a team of eager huskies at speed along the ice-spangled lake and through the surrounding pine forests, soundless except for the sled skis gliding across the snow. Ice, lake and forest as far as the eye can see. Mesmerising and magical. Then it’s a brief stop for hot cider and musher switch, and we reluctantly head back to base.
Next on the agenda is a visit to Siida, a museum in Inari showcasing the culture and heritage of Finland’s 8,000 indigenous Sámi. It’s well worth a visit, reflecting the strong link between nature and Sámi culture.
All too soon, it’s our last supper: rustic mushroom soup; salmon, mash and beetroot; and a berry pie, served up in the hotel’s outdoor kota (a Lappish hut), washed down with one too many glasses of Jaloviina brandy. There’s no aurora, but it’s a sociable night where guide Kimmo lets down his Finnish reserve and tells us about life in this silent Arctic world – a world where reindeer outnumber humans, where the sun stays out 24-7 in midsummer and refuses to get up at all in midwinter, and where – if you’re lucky – the otherworldly aurora comes out to play.
Getting there: The Aurora Zone
Being complete Lapland novices, we enlisted the help of Allan Cooper of specialist Northern Lights tour operator The Aurora Zone. We chose the Menesjärvi – Wilderness Auroras trip: three days, four nights. It’s all about exploring the winter wilderness by day and aurora hunting by night. The price this year: Menesjärvi - Wilderness Auroras costs £4,070 based on two sharing, for all available weekly departures on Fridays from Jan 9th 2026 to March 27th 2026 including direct flights from Gatwick to Ivalo with British Airways.
What’s included:
- Return flights from Gatwick to Ivalo via Helsinki
- Four nights’ full board in a standard twin studio room
- Three full days of snow activities/aurora hunting
- Cold weather clothing
