A few weeks ago, E and I made a surprise visit to the eastern border. We were driving back from the family’s summer place in Kainuu and decided to take the eastern route home for a change. We took a peek at the nature and life in Kuusamo, Oulanka National Park, and Posio.

As usual, we were traveling in my van, Bertta. This turned into a little van trip, something we hadn’t done since our spring trip to Norway. The small tricks of van life—lifting the water canister from the trunk to the kitchen table, detaching and reattaching the curtains and small items, cooking on the van’s gas stove, and setting up and making the bed—came back easily, even after a few months’ break. During the trip in May, these had become routine.

We visited Posio in Southern Lapland. I had heard of the Korouoma canyon and nature reserve before, but I had never been. The lush yet still northern nature and wildlife of Southern Lapland were new but delightful. The green, damp valley, the dramatic elevation changes, and the sound of water falling from the cliffs strongly reminded me of Norway. I playfully nicknamed Korouoma "the Norway of Southern Lapland."

I was deeply impressed by the biodiversity, the profound silence, and the visibly thriving environment. After the rugged nature of Fell Lapland, the lush riverbanks and fern-filled streams felt like paradisiacal, fertile natural environments.

We walked around the canyon, took breaks at historical forest meadows, and admired Korouoma’s summer icefall, where ice climbing takes place in winter. Now, in the blue evening light, it rested as a majestic and silent pile of rocks. Its grandeur and uniqueness were strikingly beautiful.

From Korouoma, we drove to Kuusamo for the evening, settling by a small wilderness lake for the night. As the sun set, we watched swans fly overhead and observed the changing colors of light on the lake. Unhurried and in silence.

Perhaps more than any other hiking or travel destination, I enjoy these "nameless" places the most—those found by chance, and the moments spent in them. There are no expectations, no tips or best photo spots passed on by others, no well-trodden paths or crowds. I believe that places discovered by oneself and enjoyed in solitude offer their best only to those who happen upon them.

In the evening, just before dark, a quiet mist crept across the surface of the distant, secluded lake. The horizon tinted the water with a soft pink hue from the clouds. The calm surface reflected the outline of the forest like another, tangible world.

In the evening, after the sunset, we watched the clear starry sky and the silhouettes of candle-like spruces through the van’s back window, from the comfort of our warm bed. There’s no need for blackout curtains or mosquito nets anymore. The midnight sun and the mosquitoes that came with its warmth have departed with the summer.

The small ambient light inside creates a cozy atmosphere, making even the metal shell of the van feel inviting and warm from the outside. The gentle, visible motion of the stars, like a giant carousel in the sky, offers a calming rhythm that makes it easy and safe to drift off to sleep.

After a peaceful night spent in solitude, we felt ready to venture back among other people. We drove to the parking lot of the Oulanka National Park Visitor Center, where there were more cars than we typically see in a week at home.

We hiked the popular trail that circles one of Kuusamo’s most well-known natural attractions, Kiutaköngäs. The trail itself was easy—too easy and well-worn for my taste. Despite the trodden paths and other visitors, Kiutaköngäs remained beautiful, wild, and powerful. I can imagine its significance and sacredness to the northern travelers centuries ago when the eastern border was a rarely traversed wilderness. The rapids themselves haven’t changed, even though life and travel around them have taken on entirely new proportions.

Papu, our senior dog, sometimes gets a lift when her little paws can’t manage anymore. Especially on these popular, heavily gravel-paved trails (which I don’t like at all), Papu walks very slowly and cautiously. And I don’t blame her. The large gravel chunks, the size of a hand, surely don’t feel comfortable on her already sore and tired paws.

We improvised a carrying solution using a small backpack and a scarf. It seemed to work well, giving her a chance to rest and take in the scenery from a new perspective.

 ♥ Sanna