Van life Finland - Nuortti hiking trail
I’m not sure where the idea came from this time. Perhaps it was after sitting in the car for hours. Driving the long road from Norway to Inari, with my muscles aching from the prolonged sitting, craving physical activity and walking on my own two feet. I wanted to get moving, to hike. I headed the car toward Eastern Lapland, to the village of Tulppio, located in the municipality of Savukoski, in the land of Korvatunturi, next to Urho Kekkonen National Park.
The road was long and bumpy again, as it often is when heading to the best hiking spots. The back doors of the van wouldn’t stay shut properly and let in another dose of fine sand from the eastern fells without me noticing. On Korvatunturi Road, I spotted red log houses by the riverbank. The search for my own place in Lapland has been a long and slow project over the past year. I envision a log house by the fells, perhaps near water. But that’s another story, which at the moment doesn’t have much content. Not yet.
At the parking area by Haukijärvenoja, there were cars, and for a moment, it bothered me because I’m known for seeking solitude and tranquility in nature during my hikes and I don’t particularly enjoy the company of others. However, I reminded myself that Urho Kekkonen National Park is vast, the Nuortti River is long, and a few cars full of people would surely disperse effectively over the nearly 50-kilometer trail. The Nuortti River is also popular among fishermen, so there would likely be more people by the river than on the surrounding trail.
I walked the trail clockwise, apparently in the opposite direction of most people. The Nuortti hiking trail starts with a crossing of the river, and I was eager to try it right away. At the crossing, a wading rope is set up for the summer months to help with staying upright in the current and on the slippery rocks. A quick recap of river crossings: pants off, shoes on, backpack straps undone, and go. In fact, I took Papu across the river first, waded back, and retrieved my backpack separately. A few gentlemen fishing by the river chuckled at my back-and-forth antics, but I found it easier to navigate securely on two trips than to carry both the backpack and the dog at the same time.
I walked to the Mettopalo wilderness cabin for the night. I carried a tent with me and had planned to sleep in it, but the empty, sweet cabin rising by the river tempted me. I always sleep very well in wilderness cabins; not so much in a tent. There’s something magical about the cabin’s dark logs and the atmosphere of the small dark room. It takes you far back in time, to the essence of simple things. I enjoy the joy and gratitude I feel, how a small log structure of just a few square meters, a simple fireplace, and a wooden bunk can feel like home, safe and sheltered. You come to appreciate simple things when there’s not much noise around.
Instructions for Visitors to Wilderness Cabins from year 1924. For example: Do not touch someone else's property, even if it is not behind a lock.
I started the morning slowly, with a relaxed breakfast and fresh blueberries I picked from the hill rising behind the cabin. In sunny spots, they are already starting to ripen even at these latitudes, but I still have a little while to wait before I rush in with my picking tools. That will be a home task once I can bear to return to my cabin by the Muonio River after this van trip. Not just yet.
Papu is about to turn 11, so the pace is determined by how well he can manage on his paws. However, he handled it well. With snacks, naps taken on a mound by the trail, and stops by little streams, the day went pleasantly, and both of us still had energy in the evening. I don’t think it’s nice to push oneself to the limit; there needs to be enough energy left for the next day, too.
I walked slowly with Papu all day. The total distance was about 18 km, though I didn’t measure it precisely, and apparently, the trail signs are understated. The route is actually longer than what the signs indicate. That night, people arrived at the wilderness cabin, the historical Saiho cabin, to the point where some had to sleep on the floor. Usually, I get annoyed if I can’t spend my trip alone, but this time I was actually glad to have company. A couple from Helsinki was on their first overnight trip, and a young group of three friends crawled in to sleep on the cabin floor late in the evening. Papu didn’t even notice; he slept soundly next to me. In the morning, we took turns using the small table in the cabin so that everyone could prepare their breakfast and eat at the table. We didn’t get to know each other deeply, but it was nice to chat about this and that, ask how the trip was going, and share stories about past adventures.
The third day began with a climb from the riverbank up to the summit of the fell. The river had only peeked through here and there after the initial stretch, and I was looking forward to the views of the Nuortti Canyon opening up. The day was rainy and cloudy, but pleasantly cool. This encouraged my pace compared to the previous days. We ended up walking along the southern side of the river that same day, even though the trail had the best viewpoints and resting spots.
Upon reaching the summit of the fell, the canyon opened up below. The sounds of the rushing rapids barely carried up through the drizzle and wind, coming from the rocky slope. The sign at the viewpoint mentioned that the Nuortti River had once been a busy route between the east and west, but nowadays, it has fallen into the favor of hikers and fishermen seeking the quiet of the wilderness along the eastern border.
The trail on the southern side of the river was well-trodden and easy to walk on. Apparently, the parking area at Hirvashauta, closer to the river and canyon scenery, attracts day hikers to visit the Saiho cabin and return along the same route. The bridge, which almost touches the eastern border, was reportedly completely washed away to the Russian side during the spring floods, so for a while, the trail could not be traversed at all. However, the bridge now gleamed with freshness, and the marks of machinery were still visible in the otherwise untouched forest terrain.
It drizzled all day. My rain jacket was at the bottom of my backpack, but the cold rain actually felt refreshing, so I just covered the backpack to protect it from the rain and continued on my way. Upon reaching the Hirvasoja wilderness cabin, I was drenched. It wasn’t too late in the day, so I took a drying break in the warmth of the cabin’s stove, even though it was only five kilometers to the parking area.
When I arrived at the cabin, there was an older fisherman washing dishes. Usually, no one speaks unnecessarily in the cabin, as if some reverence governs the space, and any extra chatter would disrupt it. Only the most important things are spoken aloud; otherwise, everyone tends to their own matters in silence. I don’t know; perhaps this is just my interpretation, but this is how I have experienced it, and I like it very much.
However, we chatted a little. The fisherman shared that he had been fishing at Nuortti since he was a small boy in the 1960s with his grandfather. Back then, the eastern wilderness was true wilderness, without paths, cabins, or anything but untamed nature. To reach the river, one had to navigate around the sinking swamp through a narrow isthmus, the location of which one had to know. The fishing was different back then; according to him, fishermen on the Russian side cast their nets across the river, so most, if not nearly all, of the fish end up as catches for the eastern neighbors. It’s difficult to establish common lines when the neighbor doesn’t belong to the same circles or to the EU or other regulatory alliances. What can you do?
Soon, a group of three friends arrived at the cabin, also drenched from the rain, to dry their belongings. The light chatter continued, and I was happy to have such good company, while Papu was especially pleased with all the pets. The group stayed to roast sausages over the stove while I packed my slightly dried gear back into my backpack and continued the last five kilometers to the parking lot. Oh, the joy of getting into Bertta, my van, after being soaked by the rain, changing into dry clothes, tucking the tired Papu into the front seat to rest, grabbing the leftover crumbs from a bag of chips to satisfy my worst hunger, and thanking Nuortti and Urho Kekkonen National Park for a great trip.
On the way back, I stopped at Tulppio's Lodges, stepped into the warm cabin filled with chatter, ordered a reindeer pizza, and sat down. I had thought about continuing my journey that same evening, but on a whim, I decided to stay the night in Tulppio. I got to take a shower and dry my clothes in the drying cabinet of the service building. In the morning, I treated myself to breakfast, although I was hopelessly late. Still, I received excellent, friendly service and filled my stomach with a delicious breakfast. Tulppio's Lodges are apparently popular among fishermen and hunters visiting the Nuortti River, but they also welcomed a solo woman and her dog with their hiking gear.
Hugs,
Sanna