A few weeks ago, we met up with our beloved friends, affectionately known as our Lapland family, in the winter storm of Pyhä-Luosto National Park. Unfortunately, half of the Lapland family couldn’t make it due to illness, but the rental cabin was already booked, skis and pulks packed, so half the group set out anyway. We were in for a small ski trek through the snowy landscapes of Pyhä-Luosto.

When packing for a ski trek, the first question always arises: should we rent a pulk or ski with fully packed backpacks? Renting a pulk is usually quite expensive but very convenient, while skiing with stuffed backpacks is somewhat uncomfortable and sweaty. The idea of buying our own pulk has crossed our minds, but the nearly thousand-euro investment for a piece of equipment used at most ten times a year seems daunting.

E came up with a solution for this trip and future ones: we’ll build our own pulk.

Well, E built it. My task was to find a suitable fabric or cover to wrap around the items packed into the pulk. I quickly found one: a space blanket-like trekking cover that I always carry with me, which can also double as an emergency blanket if needed.

And so, we now have our own pulk.

Pulks are often named things like Fjellpulken or Paris Pulk, so we had to stick with a traditional name for our pulk too. Observant folks might notice the name Papulken and perhaps guess who it honors.

It probably won’t make it as a sales brand, given how closely it resembles the competition’s logos, but as our own personal pulk, it works just fine.

The pulk-named Papu and Rover both stayed behind since dogs aren’t allowed in the cabins in national parks.

The gear for this trip is quite unusual. It’s not just about our pulk, but also because our Lapland friends have decided to combine two outdoor activities in one: skiing and freeride snowboarding.

They’ll be skiing to the cabin on splitboards, which are snowboards that can be split into skis. I’ve tried splitboarding a few times with friends, but managing it in winter conditions feels like a third outdoor activity in itself.

I’ll stick with my familiar snowshoes, which take about fifteen seconds to put on. I’ll wait for our friends, who are packing their snowboarding gear, overnight gear, food, and clothes.

It’s not an enviable task, but I managed to capture this essential but rarely-photographed part of outdoor adventures: the packing, adjusting, fussing, and the inevitable “Did we lock the car door? Oh no, the thermos bottle is still inside! Can you open it again?” chaos. It’s all part of the game.

Into the wintry forest glides a mixed group of homemade pulks, double backpacks, and dangling helmets, with heavy gear and a pulk packed full of food supplies. The quiet snow-covered trees greet the hum of the pulk and the clinking of splitboard bindings. There's lively conversation as we catch up with each other.

Our ski journey is merely nominal, about three kilometers one way. But, as you might know, the length or difficulty of the journey has never been the main focus of my trips. We enjoy each other's company and the luxury snacks packed in the pulk.

Only I, with my camera and backpack, move lightly and quickly. Slightly embarrassed, I tell others that my large backpack contains only a spare wool sweater while helping A balance the two backpacks he's carrying on his back. The rest of my gear is in E's pulk. I glide effortlessly past the skiers, able to take photos calmly without worrying about heavy loads. Smiling, I watch others struggle under their burdens. For once, the photographer gets to enjoy a light load.

We begin our skiing adventure from the Rykimäkero parking lot, located between Luosto and Pyhä. The parking lot seems to have around ten other car groups either starting or finishing their trips. However, once we head onto the unmaintained trail, there's no sign of people or their tracks.

We have the place to ourselves.

Our destination is the Kuukkeli rental cabin. If you're not familiar with the difference between reservation and rental cabins, here's a quick recap to help you find this amazing service.

A reservation cabin differs from a wilderness cabin in that it must be booked in advance and a nominal fee is required. Reservation cabins are usually booked per bed space, so if you want to book a 12-person cabin for you and your four friends, you might find other people there too. On the other hand, a rental cabin can be rented entirely, as we did for this trip.

Reservation and rental cabins often have better facilities compared to wilderness cabins, which typically only have a stove and a wooden bench for sleeping. Reservation and rental cabins may include kitchen utensils, blankets, pillows, and a gas stove. Always check in advance! It's unfortunate to end up eating cold, dry food if the cabin doesn’t have a gas stove, or to sleep in freezing temperatures under just a wool sweater if there are no blankets. The basic rule for hikers: check everything in advance and still be well-prepared.

You need a key for reservation and rental cabins, which you can usually get from a nearby nature center with your payment receipt. Remember this, as I've skied for tens of kilometers back and forth when the key was forgotten in the rush of preparations.

All information on wilderness, reservation, and rental cabins, as well as booking sites, can be found on the Luontoon.fi website, here. Some cabins can only be booked through nature centers (for safety reasons), while others can be booked through the Eräluvat online store, here. If these processes seem complicated — and sometimes they are — it’s a good idea to contact the nearest nature center or Metsähallitus customer service directly. They are incredibly helpful <3

Back to our trip.

The day is still young when we arrive at the Kuukkeli reservation cabin. We have booked our sleeping spaces on one side. On the other side of the wall is a similar small, wooden, and dark room, which, amidst the winter's snowstorm, always feels like a five-star hotel.

We unpack our gear into our designated sleeping areas, change into dry clothes, and enjoy the coffee and pastries we brought for the trip at the cabin's table. The cabin always takes on a cozy and warm atmosphere as it fills with rosy-cheeked hikers, gear, and the aroma of coffee.

It's just past the early afternoon, and every skier still has energy, so we decide to go for an evening ski on a nearby hill. The snow is deep, but it supports us enough that climbing to the top of the hill doesn’t feel impossible. The blue-tinted early evening and the snow-laden trees that nod under the weight guide us through the completely silent forest.

We ski aimlessly here and there, quietly and peacefully. Somehow, someone comes up with a playful competition and a good practice: who can pinpoint our location on the map the best. To clarify, this is a paper map, because one should never fully rely on cell reception or phone battery life during trips.

We're suitably lost, as the task is not very easy and the answers aren’t unanimous. (It should be noted that, in case of need or emergency, any of us would definitely find our way back to the cabin.) The terrain is relatively uniform throughout, and there are few landmarks, so locating ourselves isn’t straightforward. We all find our guesses on the map and double-check our location using a phone map app. As a side note, I was precisely at the correct location on the map ;)

The evening sky deepens around us as we start skiing back to the safety of the cabin. The cabin has a sauna, and the warmth is inviting after our stiffened limbs from skiing through deep snow. On winter ski trips, a sauna feels like a luxury in all its simplicity. It’s amazing how a person can be so content when the extra things are stripped away.

Each of us descends the hill from the peak in our own style. Both the splitboarders on their wide, skinned skis and those on snowshoes find it quite challenging to navigate the slopes. The soft snow cushions the skiers who tumble into it, and the quiet forest echoes with the silly cries of avoiding falls.

Evening chores begin at the cabin. Almost by unspoken agreement, everyone takes on their role, and soon the small log cabin is bustling with activity. One person starts cooking, another fetches firewood for the sauna, and a third arranges and sets the table. Although there are rarely moments on trips when something isn’t happening, none of it ever feels exhausting. On the contrary.

I imagine life used to be like this in the past. There’s plenty to do throughout the day, but everything is done at a leisurely pace, without hurry, so fatigue or stress doesn’t catch up with the doer. Curiously, this seems impossible in work environments. People often work intensely for a few hours and then are exhausted for the rest of the day, needing time to recover. If given a choice, as I am, I’d choose the first option.

For a short trip like this, it’s easy to bring food that deviates from the classic dry trail fare. Our menu is surprisingly delicious: cloudberry and reindeer pasta, with sourdough mocha squares for dessert. All topped off with the warmth of the sauna and the tranquility of the national park. I’d say this is the perfect recipe for an evening.

After the evening activities, there’s still time for card games and storytelling. In the cabins, there’s not much else to do, and rarely does one miss having more activities.

In the morning, the mind and body are refreshed. The sun peeks through the windows, nestled among the spruces growing next to the cabin. Someone got up before me and started a fire in the stove, which often goes out during the night and leaves the simple cabin cold.

Two of us continue on to do some freeride skiing on a nearby large peak, while E and I head back to the parking lot on skis. After breakfast, the familiar hustle returns to the cabin: everyone packs their gear into backpacks and sleds, tidies up shared messes, and, if possible, leaves the cabin in better condition than when we arrived. New firewood is brought inside, and suitable kindling is chopped and carved for the next visitors. It’s nice to come back to a cold cabin, knowing the fire is ready with dry wood and easy kindling.

Final touches to carefully packed gear (except I ski again with a lighter pack) and we’re ready to close the cabin door, prepared for the next adventurers.

The trip is short, but who says that its length correlates with its fun? Living up north, these kinds of trips are perfect for meeting friends who live far away or just for bringing something different into everyday life. I wouldn’t trade this part of my life for anything, no matter what. When long drives or the extended, cold winters up north start to weigh on my mind, I remember how much good there is in living here. Maybe it’s time for you to move here too? ;)