I knew right from the start that I wanted to experience the midnight sun during July after moving here. I didn’t make any other plans or goals. The first week was filled with rain, thunderstorms, and cloudy skies, but as soon as the weather forecast promised a clear evening, I drove for an hour to Pallastunturit and climbed the fell to wait for midnight.

My unplanned timing led me to leave home around 11 PM, and midnight came just before I even reached the parking lot. It didn’t bother me, though; because I didn’t check the time, I saw the midnight sun only as glimpses through the car windshield.

When I arrived at Pallastunturit, dark blue clouds covered the fells. The weather forecast threatened thunderstorms and rain showers, but I thought that since I had driven this far, I wouldn’t let a few clouds spoil the trip. I was the only traveler at night. The air was still and almost stagnant. It was so quiet that I could swear I heard the clouds scraping against the rocky surface of the neighboring fell as they passed by.

It was nearing 2:30 AM before I was even close to the top of the fell. The sun had long since faded behind the cloud cover dominating the sky, but the atmosphere and colors of the horizon were still incredibly beautiful. Even in cloudy weather, the range of fells is easily visible nearly 50 kilometers away. The more distant fells fade into softer shades of blue in a harmoniously natural way. If I knew how to paint, I would love to capture this landscape on canvas.

At four o'clock, I was back on the ground—both figuratively and literally—and on my way home. I've come to the conclusion that the world is at its most beautiful in the early morning hours, often around four o'clock. I stopped several times (even making a few daring U-turns in the middle of the deserted road) whenever I spotted a beautiful view from the roadside. The mist, the sun, and the air temperature just a few degrees above freezing create the most stunning landscapes in the early morning.

The truth behind beautiful pictures: the photographer wades into ice-cold swamp water up to their ankles while wearing sneakers to get just the right angle. Anything for the sake of art, right?

The evening was wonderful, but I still felt a lingering desire for the midnight sun. I thought I would need to repeat the trip on the next clear evening. Through various coincidences, a friend who had come to the village suggested taking an extemporaneous trip to the top of Ylläs just a few days later. Some stayed at the top of the fell for the night, while I, feeling envious for not owning a tent, hiked back to the car in the early morning hours and drove home to sleep for the night.

This time, rain showers threatened on the horizon and approached directly, but just before reaching the foot of the fell, they turned elsewhere, leaving us to enjoy the warmth of the midnight sun with dry feet.

We watched the clock, counting the minutes to see if the cloud cover rising from the horizon would block the sun before the day changed. We awaited the clock to strike midnight as if we were celebrating the New Year. Exactly at midnight, we were able to toast in the bright sunlight.

Just before midnight, the sun was still hiding behind the cloud cover.

Photo by: Onni Kojo

But at exactly midnight, the sun shone brightly. I walked back to the foot of the fell and then along the nature trail to the parking lot in the bright sunlight at two o'clock in the morning. The only sound breaking the silence was the mountain stream flowing down from a nearby spring. For some reason, I thought wistfully about how I could ever leave this place. I wondered how I could ever return to the city, with its noises, lights, and hustle, from this perfect peace and untouched nature. I concluded that I probably couldn’t. It was a simultaneously sad yet beautiful thought.