On the same trip where I hiked in the Kevo Nature Reserve and the vast wilderness areas of Paistunturi, I also, on a whim the next day, drove all the way to Nuorgam, the northernmost village in Finland and the entire EU.

Northern roads are wild and absolutely wonderful! I’ve never been a car person—before moving here, I hated driving and even being in a car. It felt like wasted time when nothing useful could be done.

Now, I say nonsense to that. The mind fills with all sorts of ideas about always needing to do something, to be productive, to achieve something smart.

These days, I can’t think of a better way to spend a bright October day than driving along the roads that cut through the wilderness of Lapland, dodging moose fleeing hunters, snow-white reindeer, and for some reason, grouse and black grouse that seem to enjoy hanging out on the road. I marvel at the winter-colored cold sun and the endless expanses of fells and bogs.

There’s no radio signal, phone coverage, or internet access in these parts, except in the “big” northern hubs like Karigasniemi, Utsjoki, and Nuorgam. Maybe in between, you might find a tiny village with a café/bar/gas station/guesthouse/shop in someone’s house, where a traveler can grab a cup of coffee and marvel at their inability to understand a word of Sámi.

I didn’t keep track of connections, and the radio was off almost the entire trip. The drive was pleasant enough with just my own made-up songs and the endless stream of thoughts to keep me company, without the need for outside distractions.

I continued sleeping in the car. The quickly assembled sleeping space in the trunk surprised me with its comfort and cozy, homey feel. After the second freezing night, when I woke up to find Papu trying to burrow into my down sleeping bag, I came up with the idea to line the trunk and the rear windows with wool sweaters and blankets. Even that small amount of insulation made a big difference, keeping the car a bit warmer at night. By the third night, I didn’t even need my wool socks. With a bit more product development, I think I could turn this car into a perfect camper.

Each morning, I had to crawl out of the warm trunk to make breakfast on the camping stove outside, usually by the roadside in a beautifully frosted landscape.

True to my usual way of traveling, I didn’t rush. After hiking in Karigasniemi, I stopped for lunch and enjoyed some salmon brought over from just a few hundred meters across the Norwegian border. The server recommended the large salmon dish after hearing I had just come from hiking in the Kevo Nature Reserve, and they were right. It was delicious.

Somewhere between Karigasniemi and Utsjoki, I spent hours by the Teno River, which turned out to be one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. The entire road from Karigasniemi to Utsjoki runs along the Teno River, with Norway’s snow-capped mountains on one side and our not-quite-as-grand but still rugged and majestic fells on the other. The road winds through wilderness, offering breathtaking views of the river valley.

When I arrived in Utsjoki, I saw a sign that read "Nuorgam 30 km," and on a whim, I decided to drive to Nuorgam for the night. The road ended at the northernmost tip of Finland, right at the Norwegian border, where I had to turn the car around due to COVID-19 restrictions. Otherwise, I would have gladly continued into Norway, a country that draws me in with its mountains and fjords like a magnet.

In Nuorgam, I rang the doorbell of a local guesthouse (yes, I wondered about the doorbell, too) and inquired about the possibility of using a sauna. Just like last year, when I traveled in October, outside of the tourist season, I was met with a lighthearted laugh and told that they don’t offer such services out of season. Even arranging accommodation was a bit uncertain. I mentioned I just needed a sauna after five days without washing and wished them a good evening. A sauna would’ve been great, but when traveling alone in the wilderness, it’s not so crucial how you smell in the car.

The morning dawned with a pale sunlight reflecting over to the Norwegian side. The Teno River rushed close to Norway’s shoreline. I left a tired Papu, wrapped in blankets, to continue sleeping in my down sleeping bag in the car, packed my camera gear, and set off to explore the riverbank. The water was low, and I could walk halfway across the river on icy stones without getting my feet wet. My phone received a message saying, “Welcome to Norway, please check the COVID-19 restrictions and quarantine regulations.” I quickly scampered back to our side.

There’s something about the barren, cold, and sometimes even ugly northern landscape that captivates me. I can’t describe it in words. But often, when I’m adventuring in the freezing northern winds and snowstorms, I feel incredibly alive. I feel like I’m living with all my senses and every cell. I’m anchored in the moment, connected to myself and the nature around me in all its ruggedness.

I don’t remember afterward how cold I was, how my toes had been wet for three days, or how my fingers, stiff with cold, struggled to get the lens cap off the camera. What I remember is the empty shore, the frost-covered stones, the wild and free roar of the river, the cold wind smelling of snow blowing through my unbrushed hair, and the feeling of freedom.

♥: Sanna