Freeride Trip with Splitboards to Nammalakuru in Pallas-Yllästunturi National Park
The crisp January air, with a biting -27°C, frosts our hair, the edge of our hats, and our eyelashes. As we turn our heads, tiny snowflakes fall from us like glitter, scattering around. The pale winter sun, barely rising above the horizon, reflects an endless sparkle off the snow-covered landscape. We ski across the ice of Vuontisjärvi, which cracks and echoes through the fells, creating deep crevices beneath us. The ice is solid—almost half a meter thick—but each cannon-like crack still makes the heart skip a beat.
We begin our journey from Vuontispirtti. Located in Enontekiö, Vuontispirtti is an ideal starting point, with the boundary of Pallas-Yllästunturi National Park reachable after a little more than a kilometer of skiing. However, we didn’t stick to the trails; we skied on splitboards, carving our own paths. A splitboard is a snowboard that can be split into two skis. We attach skins to the base of the splitboards—sticky, fur-like strips that allow us to climb steep fell slopes without slipping, moving straight up without the need for zig-zagging.
Splitboards, or "splits" as we call them, aren't ideal for long-distance skiing due to their weight and stiffness, which becomes apparent pretty quickly. Our trip is a bit of a hybrid—a combined ski tour and freeride adventure—and there’s no such thing as the perfect gear for this, so we make our way with small discomforts, skiing without complaint in the sunshine and freezing cold toward the chain of fells ahead.
Photo: Maria Mäkitalo
We were late to book, but luckily managed to snag the only available weekend at the reserved cabins in Pallas-Yllästunturi National Park. We’re staying at the Nammalakuru reserved cabin to make sure all six of us could have a guaranteed place to sleep. In the open wilderness huts, there’s a rule that if the hut is full, those who arrived first must give space to the last ones to arrive. So, if you’re staying in an open hut, it's always smart to bring a tent as a backup. On a trip like this—challenging and unique, especially in winter—we opted for the more equipped reserved cabin, which comes with beds, blankets, and pillows. Hikers need to bring their own sleeping bags or sheets, as well as cooking utensils, and, of course, take everything with them when they leave. The reserved cabin costs €15 per person per night.
Nammalakuru cabin is located in a high valley, and from its windows, you're surrounded by stunning views of the fells and the national park’s nature on all sides.
The number of visitors to national parks has surged rapidly, and this is also evident in the booking of huts. My home national park, Pallas-Yllästunturi, saw a staggering 700,000 visitors last year (2021), which is almost a 25% increase from the previous year. Wow! It’s wonderful that people are getting out into nature and visiting national parks. However, the question sometimes lingers in the back of my mind—how many people can the fragile fell nature support each year? A million, two? Or indefinitely, if everyone behaves responsibly and treats it with respect. It’s crucial for every hiker to know trail etiquette and remember that each national park may have different rules and guidelines. For example, leaving the marked trails in summer can severely damage the environment. The delicate plants growing in the fells might take centuries to recover after being trampled by hikers.
In winter, however, the meter-deep snow protects even the most sensitive plants, allowing you to move freely almost anywhere. On the marked trails, there are only tracks from reindeer herders and maintenance snowmobiles. It’s not until later in the spring that ski trails are groomed, and that's when the number of visitors increases. We skied along the marked routes in some of the steeper sections but occasionally ventured off the trail, simply for the joy of freedom, across pristine snowfields that often disappeared into the fog resting in the valley below.
In the fells, the streams that flow rapidly during the summer months are frozen solid down to the ground in winter. On long ski trips, it’s not practical to carry several liters of heavy water, so almost all the water for drinking and daily use is melted from snow. It's actually quite a fun task—scooping up pans and buckets full of clean, sugar-like snow from a good distance away from the hut and melting it by the blazing hot stove in the evening.
Off-piste skiing is a lot of fun. I’m still a beginner at snowboarding, while the rest of the group is more experienced. However, all of us have strong skills in navigating the outdoors, orienteering, and wilderness survival—essential skills when moving through wintery fell terrain. I wouldn’t venture on a trip like this alone unless I was completely confident in my abilities and the gear I’m using.
Moving and riding with splitboards sometimes requires patience. You’re constantly adjusting things—skins come loose after collecting snow on the adhesive side, bindings freeze up so the foot can’t move at all, and toes go numb in the tight snowboard boots in the freezing cold. It’s especially comforting to be out with a group of people you know, who help each other out and tolerate a bit of grumpiness. There’s always extra snacks in the backpack, easily accessible, because blood sugar drops quickly from the combination of strenuous activity and cold weather. Sometimes, more time is spent sitting in the snow fixing equipment than actually skiing or riding. But that’s all part of the experience.
All the setbacks are forgotten the moment the sun peeks out from behind the fells, and after the long climb and endless gear adjustments, you finally get to ride down the slope toward the mist-filled fell valley. The sense of freedom is indescribable. Everything else fades away—there’s only the wind whipping across your face, the golden light of the winter sun, and the glittering snow crunching beneath your feet.
I’ve never really thought of myself as an extreme sports enthusiast, or even an athlete of any kind. Sometimes I even wonder how and why I end up on these trips, and especially why I enjoy them so much. Generally, I love slowness, peacefulness, and quiet. While off-piste skiing isn’t all about speed and danger, it’s still considered an extreme sport. I once told a friend that I don’t even want to like this sport—it creates strange associations, and I don’t want to be put into the "extreme sports" category.
However, I also love trying new things, being surrounded by incredible and inspiring people, the winter and the conditions it creates, challenging myself, and most of all, the indescribably beautiful, unpredictable, and rugged fell landscape. Maybe I can shape off-piste skiing—or any sport—into exactly what I want it to be.
P.S. I don’t want to sound boring or like a nagging aunt, but I do want to mention that these kinds of trips should be well-planned, and it’s important to ensure you have people with you who know what they’re doing. Every day in Lapland, hikers and adventurers get rescued, mainly because their skills or equipment weren’t sufficient, or the weather conditions took them by surprise. Good navigation and wilderness skills, understanding the environment, having gear suited to the conditions, and knowing your own and your group’s abilities are absolutely crucial before heading into the fells.
If you want to try off-piste skiing or winter hiking, I highly recommend starting with guided tours. This spring, my friend Henna—an awesome woman—runs fantastic off-piste trips in Ylläs through her company, Palo Adventures. In Pallas, the charming and incredibly skilled Pallaksen Pöllöt offer off-piste and fell skiing tours, and they’ll definitely guide you to the best skiing spots in Pallas. I wholeheartedly recommend both, purely based on my own experience, without any connections or sponsorships.
Wishing you sunny spring snow days and plenty of freedom in your life☀️
♥ Sanna