Last week, I packed my gear, dog, and camera equipment into the back of my car, which has been converted into a bedroom, and I turned the steering wheel toward the north.

Even though I live in the north, there’s still a good 400 km of our long country left before I reach the northern border. On the other hand, if you look at it from the south, 400 km is not much of a journey at these latitudes, as they say around here.

The roads that cut through the wilderness are often long and unpaved.

I wanted to include some kind of hike in my otherwise poorly planned and vague trip. Since I have my 10-year-old Papu with me, who has had knee problems in the past, I didn’t dare to embark on a very long journey. The weight of my backpack alone is enough without adding the seven-kilogram extra load that I would have to carry if something happened. That has happened before.

Kevo Nature Park turned out to be a suitable stopover on my way to the destination I spontaneously came up with, Utsjoki. In the evening twilight, after driving hundreds of kilometers on unlit and unpaved roads through the wilderness, I parked my car under the clearing starry sky at the parking lot of Kevo Nature Park. After my evening activities, I wrapped myself in the warmth of my down sleeping bag beside my cup of tea and Papu, while the car windows gathered frost flowers as the cold intensified.

The morning didn’t break until around nine. The bright sun rose slowly and languidly over the wilderness in the frosty morning, barely warming the frost-covered landscape from the night before. Breakfast, prepared with my cold fingers on a camping stove, was enjoyed in the pale sunlight on a terrace made from the car’s trunk.

The day turned out beautiful, clear, and sunny. The hiking trail in Kevon Nature Park first cuts through the birch forests of Paistunturi before ascending to a ridge surrounded by two lakes. The area is easy to navigate. During the thawing season, hiking can only be done on one single trail, which doesn’t branch out much along the way.

The undulating terrain of the ridge offers incredibly beautiful views of the wilderness tundra and the lakes' clear waters. It’s an amazing feeling to see the snow-capped peaks on the horizon, stretching into the almost untouched expanse of the wilderness, where only reindeer and the occasional locals wander. I reflect on how luxurious such nature is in the modern world. It’s a privilege to see and experience a landscape dominated by the forces of nature, where the role of humans is almost nonexistent.

My day hike ended at the Ruktajärvi wilderness cabin after 12 kilometers in the early afternoon, just as the sun was beginning its journey back behind the fells. For a moment, I pondered what I would do for the rest of the day. The clock showed only three o'clock. I didn’t have a book with me, no writing materials, and there’s no internet or phone service in the wilderness, nor did I miss them in such surroundings. Later, I laughed at my thought, as I didn’t have time to dwell on the lack of activities. After gathering firewood, heating the cabin, preparing food, setting up my sleeping area, and taking care of my gear, the sun had already set. In the evening, three other hikers arrived at the cabin, and we exchanged hiking and life experiences by the light of candles and headlamps.

4o mini

Before the darkness of evening set in, I took a brisk walk with Papu for a few kilometers on the side of the nature park, which begins just past the wilderness cabin. The nature park is one of Finland's most strictly protected natural areas, and there are strict rules that must always be familiarized with in advance. The trails and guidelines for Kevon Nature Park can be found, for example, on the Luontoon.fi website. This site also provides information about national parks and many other hiking areas. In nature parks, the everyman’s rights do not apply, and for example, gathering berries and mushrooms is prohibited except for local residents.

In the morning, after a good night’s sleep and a leisurely breakfast during my adventures, I turned back along the same path toward the parking lot where I had left my car cabin. I had checked that the snow promised for the day wouldn't start until the afternoon, and I figured I could make it out in time. However, the women who had spent the night with me in the cabin mentioned that the snowfall would begin quite soon. As I climbed to the top of the first ridge, I could see the approaching snowstorm rapidly drawing closer, which started just moments later.

In the north, the weather changes rapidly. In half an hour, the delicate, vulnerable, and softly falling snow turned into a full-blown snowstorm, covering all the gray and blue hues that had previously dominated the mountain landscape. Winter arrived in an instant.

Despite my wet clothes, inadequate shoes (the soles of my hiking boots came off on the first day, and my backup shoes were leather boots meant for city use), and the biting cold wind on my face, I was on top of the world. I often think, when I am in nature, away from the rest of the world, how everything else could change, upheave, or turn upside down in that moment, yet I would be blissfully unaware of it. Nothing else matters except for that moment. There are no distractions, no other people, no worries, and no constant thoughts about the past or the future. There is a complete sense of freedom, a feeling of being present.

When you walk for five hours a day only with your thoughts, you must face them. In that time, many thoughts arise, and you have to be with them, listen to them, and process them. There is no escape. You can’t pick up your phone, feed yourself external stimuli, and push your feelings aside.

Everyone should experience walking in nature and confront themselves at least once. We owe it to ourselves. It’s beneficial for both the mind and the body.

Give it a try.