Even though spring may be well underway elsewhere—I occasionally watch videos of butterflies and the first spring flowers that can already be spotted in the south with envy—the skiing conditions are still perfect up here in the north.

Last weekend, a group of five friends and I skied to Hannukurku cabin, located halfway along the Hetta-Pallas route. It’s the same place where I took a break during my ski trek from Pallas to Hetta. The Hannukurku cabin is certainly one of the most popular stops along the route. Despite the fact that even the shortest distance requires skiing or hiking nearly 15 km to reach it, the cabin is situated in the middle of the park, is very well maintained, and you can’t get lost on the trail. Plus, there’s a sauna.

We were traveling with a group of five. The route we chose started north of Hannukurku, near the Ketomella bridge, and would end in the south at Vuontispirt. To warm up at the start, we set up our cars, with one left waiting at Vuontispirt and the other parked at Ketomella. Getting our group of five, along with all our gear, moving takes some time.

Just as we managed to get ourselves moving and pointed our noses toward the forest, we realized that we hadn’t picked up the key for the reserved cabin from either the Hetta or Pallas Nature Center. Each of those places was over a half-hour drive away, and it was already well into the day. Hannukurku also has an open wilderness cabin and a kota, but we didn’t have the necessary gear to spend the night in either. We were only equipped for sleeping in the reserved cabin, which comes with blankets, pillows, and mattresses.

We began to consider that the heated sauna might also be an option if we couldn’t stay warm elsewhere. In a phone conversation with the Nature Center, we learned that there might be a spare key in a numbered lockbox at the cabin. The guide at the Nature Center couldn’t guarantee it for us, as the location of the spare key isn’t often checked.

We decided to take the risk and ski nearly 15 km just to see if we could reach the warmth of the cabin or if we’d be huddled on the sauna floor for the night.

Finally on our way, we talked about how wonderful—and in a way, also strange—it is that we’ve found each other. That we’ve connected with like-minded people who largely share the same values, interests, and lifestyle.

It’s by no means a given.

Recently, I’ve had discussions with people considering a move to the north, and their biggest concern is how to find similar individuals and friends here—in the middle of nowhere—and whether it’s possible to create a support network around themselves, which most people moving here have to leave behind. For many, including me initially, the biggest fear of moving here is ending up alone. That there’s no one to call if the car doesn’t start in the morning or if the cabin’s heating system fails.

Somehow, people find each other. Even here, where the population density is among the lowest in the country, and it may superficially seem like no one actually lives here.

“How do you find these people?” is often asked. Through chance, being open, asking for help and offering help, sharing good and bad moments. There’s no single answer. The friends I’ve made while living here have come into my life through various channels: from comments on a housing search post on the Facebook community page, through mutual acquaintances (which are bound to happen when the population is small—everyone knows each other in some way), through shared interests or hobbies, or random encounters in the wilderness. Social media has also played a role in some of these meetings. When I lived in the south, I might not have reached out to completely unknown individuals based solely on them messaging me on Instagram, saying, “Hey, you seem to live a pretty similar life to mine. Would you like to go skiing or photographing together sometime?” A shoutout to Laura and Sofia—thank you for bravely reaching out!

For some reason, I really want to break the suspicion that those moving north will end up alone and that only in densely populated areas can one find a support network. I’m still amazed by the kindness of people here. Neighbors readily share their favorite fishing spots, offer to lend their equipment, or accompany you. Friends share dinners, cars, and even accommodations if the need arises. You don’t have to be alone.

Our journey continued in incredibly good weather. It was the kind of weather that allowed jackets and wool sweaters to quickly move to the bottoms of our backpacks and sleds. Sunscreen was brought out. The scent of it, combined with the snow and the fresh fell breeze, created a strangely contrasting atmosphere between winter and summer. The sun warmed our cheeks with a healthy flush and painted the landscape above the fells with its almost white light, making it feel scorching and desolate.

Since the snowpack supported us exceptionally well, we didn’t follow any set trail but chose our path freely. With backcountry skis and forest skis, the journey felt incredibly light, and climbing the fells with our backpacks and sleds didn’t tire us out much. The sun's blazing warmth brought a sheen of sweat to our skin, and otherwise, our pace was leisurely, with cheerful songs accompanying our journey in the evening sun.

It was already evening when we arrived at the Hannukurku cabin. Thankfully, the spare key was in its place in the locked box, which we returned for future hikers. The cabin hardly needed heating; it had soaked up the sun’s warmth all day, and with the help of a few trees, it shared enough heat with us to dry our gear.

The sauna washed away the sweat that had built up during the day and relaxed our muscles. It’s incredibly wonderful that in the middle of a national park, far from any roads, one can enjoy warm sauna baths. The seven-euro sauna fee feels like a negligible amount compared to the refreshing experience of washing off in the crystal-clear waters of a mountain lake after a day of skiing. It’s fantastic that cabins and saunas are maintained. Let’s remember to take good care of them and respect the guidelines so we can continue to enjoy similar nature experiences in the future. More information about the fees and guidelines for the Hannukurku reserved cabin and sauna can be found on the Luontoon.fi website.

As the night set in, the beautiful day offered an extra treat: the northern lights shimmering above the cabin.

The sun began its warm glow as early as five in the morning. After a peaceful breakfast, we could pack the sled and adjust our skis outside while still in T-shirts. Water dripping from the eaves created reflections on the cabin wall that evoked thoughts of summer. The sunscreen bottle made its rounds as we tightened the last straps on our backpacks and set our sights toward the south.

From Hannukurku to the south, there’s a well-maintained trail at this late spring. However, it’s not pleasant to ski on it with backcountry skis designed for deep snow, so we quickly veered off the trail toward the fell’s plateau. It’s nice to take a break right at that spot where the view is best, and there’s no need to dodge other skiers. Freedom is only found in the deep snow; that’s how it feels.

In some places, the slope of the fell was steep. The snowpack, hardened by the combined effects of the sun and frost, was a challenging surface for the skis. Even the slightest shift in balance could send the ski sliding out from underneath, tumbling down the steep slope in a spray of snowflakes. With a heavy backpack, balance could easily tip, potentially dragging the skier into the thickets of the mountain birch forest. Singing and cheerful chatter paused at these crossings as everyone focused on making it safely to the other side.

Climbing the fell was, after all, easier than coming down. Descending from the fell on backcountry skis isn’t a straightforward task. They lack any edge control, so no matter how hard you try, you can hardly steer their direction. Particularly hard or soft snow completely eliminates any control, and a heavy backpack can quickly send the skier into a snowbank. The forest echoed with squeals and the sounds of snow cascading as each person took turns plunging into the cold snow bath when their balance gave way or when an unexpected branch hit their line of descent.v

After descending from the fell, we had to ski the rest of the way along a flat trail, which nicely quickened our otherwise leisurely pace. We replenished our dwindling water supplies from the first melted, crystal-clear mountain streams. The sun painted each of our faces with the first colors of summer and warmed not just our skin but also our hearts. The winter had been long and cold, so the warmth and light were welcome.

Our little ski trek concluded in the afternoon at Vuontispirt, where the yard was already free of snow. We agreed to celebrate our wonderful outing with pizza together.

Even though I spend a lot of time alone, I need other people, just like anyone else. As someone who identifies as a clear introvert, I’m quite poor at making new friends. It’s not natural for me to get to know new people. Still, I’ve found friends around me here and created a safety net for myself. I greatly enjoy hiking and adventuring alone, but I derive pleasure from it only because I know it’s a choice. If I don’t want to, I don’t have to venture into the fells alone. I don’t have to solve problems by myself, fight with ski bindings, heavy backpacks, or key issues alone.

Thank you, friends <3

Happiness is only real when shared.

Christopher McCandless

♥: Sanna