Peering through the oval window of the plane while descending into Kiruna Airport in the arctic-like north of Sweden provides a foretaste of the conditions we are set to encounter. As far as the naked eye can see, pine forests are shrouded in a blanket of white, a work of art that sparks a notion of serenity.
In stark contrast to the conditions in Stockholm, stepping foot onto the tarmac sends shudders through our bodies, leaving us speechless.
The icy conditions that welcome us at Sweden's largest and most prominent northern frontier are an appropriate initiation to the beauty that sparked our initial intrigue when planning the journey.
Touching Down in Kiruna
We collect our luggage from the single carousel within the tiny rural airport then make haste for the bus shelter.
“There are no more services to Kiruna today,” declares a shaky voice.
Kylie and I stand still, disgruntled and despondent. Kiruna has become one of the most visited locations in Sweden and - by extension – Scandinavia. The reason? It’s home to various notable and popular tourist attractions including the annually reconstructed Ice Hotel and the Borealis.
I assume the local government has employed a touch of ‘economical savvy’ by limiting bus services, rendering the only alternative either a seven-kilometre walk in icy conditions or the payment of exorbitant taxi fares. According to our taxi driver, the first option has been attempted by various determined travellers with varying degrees of success.
A Shopping Misadventure in Kiruna
It's two-thirty in the afternoon and darkness has already enveloped the sky. The streets are ablaze, light from shops and houses illuminating the bitumen at our feet. The luminescence adds a measure of magic to the recipe that is set to make this journey a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
With only thirty minutes to spare before being transported to cabins out of town, we dart - then slide - along the footpath to the closest supermarket.
Twenty minutes later with groceries in tow, Kylie and I return to Camp Alta's main office to meet the man who will be our guide and host.
With a rumbling tummy, Kylie had ordered a chicken burger with a side of Swedish chips. En route to the cabins, she learns that her chicken burger is, in fact, void of its main ingredient: chicken. She has clearly been the victim of a cruel and disempowering act that’s left her with a chicken-less burger.
I am unable to bury the babbles of laughter that erupt in the backseat of the van. Does laughing at her misfortune make me a bad friend?
Exploring the Woods around Camp Alta
Set near the woods approximately seven kilometres from Kiruna, Camp Alta has been created in a reality resembling paradise.
Perched on an incline, several locally constructed timber cabins overlook a lake that freezes in winter. Interspersed between the cabins are wood-fired saunas and large tee pee-like Sami Fire Huts, each of which contain rustic fires and reindeer skin - warm and comfortable havens following exploration in sub-zero outdoor temperatures.
It’s an ideal way in which to rest a weary soul after a day of cross-country skiing.
While listening to the host’s explanation, I begin deconstructing a mental image: sitting on a reindeer skin in front of spitting embers, I sip on the cup of sweet liquid that’s perched between my woollen-clad hands.
Preparing for Exploration on a Snowmobile
After settling in, we meet our guide for a costume fitting. Not surprisingly, the clothes we have brought for the escapade through ice and snow don’t befit the current temperature.
Once our snow clothes and enormous boots are donned, we catch glimpses of ourselves in the mirror and fits of laughter erupt. We resemble a pair of polar bears prepared to return to life post-hibernation.
Despite the fashion that would be a faux pas in most other parts of the world, we feel sufficiently warm to commence the nine-kilometre ride to the famous Ice Hotel. The journey will take us through stunning countryside atop a snowmobile.
Painful Memories: Small Motorised Vehicles
After being hit and knocked over by a car while riding a scooter in Cambodia earlier in the year, the thought of mounting any motorised vehicle without doors and windows now sends a temporary rush of panic through my core.
Although the initial sight of the snowmobile is unsettling, I maintain a dignified level of composure and dutifully hide the grimace that wants to spread across my face. After signing a document agreeing to pay AU$500 in the case of an accident, we receive a nonchalant, two-minute introductory lesson by the instructor and are asked to follow the guide on our very own snowmobile.
It takes only one lap around frozen Lake Altajärvi before I settle into the driver's seat; I ease out the throttle as we hit open stretches.
The sensation I feel from seamless gliding across frozen waters crystallised over the earth's surface is transcendent. Guided by the iridescence of the starry sky - and light of the headlamp, we make our way through narrow trails, over footbridges and around a second lake before arriving safely at the Ice Hotel.
Visiting the Ice Hotel
Reconstructed every winter, the Ice Hotel is not only an engineering feat but an example of architectural ingenuity at its greatest. Blocks of ice are specifically designed and prepared months before the final assemblage takes place, which occurs at the end of November.
Guests pay exorbitant prices. However, they are treated to a specifically designed room and experience unique only to Sweden.
The majority of the hotel is constructed out of ice, including much of its contents. Although bed bases are blocks of solid ice, they are covered with mattresses and reindeer skins, which, together, prevent the icy temperatures from reaching the people lying on top. Starting at AU$400 a night, indulging yourself for just one night would surely provide lifelong memories.
The Ice Hotel opens on the sixth of December every year. Tours through the Hotel incur a fee of 250 Krona.
Kylie's Daredevil Driving on a Snowmobile
The return ride is a little unsettling. It seems Kylie is seeking revenge for my iniquitous laughter regarding her chicken-less burger. Sliding around corners and gaining air after leaping over clumps of ice, Kylie makes snowmobile driving seem like an extreme Olympic sport.
Her daredevil driving would gain her a place in the national Olympic team if such a sport existed. I envy her disinhibition behind the wheel. Needless to say, she gets us home adrenaline-filled yet injury-free.
I do trust her, implicitly.
Ice Fishing at Camp Alta
The time arrives to try ice fishing.
To be perfectly honest, fishing is an activity the thought of which puts me to sleep. I've tried it twice in my life and, on both occasions, I've dozed off at the outset. It's something I neither enjoy nor pursue.
I feign interest to dignify the enthusiasm expressed by our host but my mind is in the skies. I find myself glancing heavenward at regular intervals, eagerly awaiting the commencement of the elusive Borealis. To my utter disappointment, I’m informed that although the skies are clear, there is very little solar activity which means a five percent chance of seeing the Northern Lights.
We exert ourselves by drilling two holes through at least half a metre of snow-covered ice. Baited lines drop through the holes. Sitting atop reindeer skins (to avoid getting piles), we dangle our lines about in an attempt to catch the attention of fish.
My mind wanders as I consider whether all fish have a three second memory as do Goldfish. This is the effect fishing has on my psyche.
Although a little disinterested, I begin to see how ice fishing is critical to the sustainability of life to northern folk, such as the Indigenous Sami. For many of them, it’s a matter of life and death during the coldest parts of the year. I garner a newfound appreciation for the activity that I previously betrothed.
Getting Cosy inside a (Tee Pee-Style) Sami Fire Hut
Unsuccessful at fishing, we retire to the large tee pee-style Sami Fire Hut where our host has lovingly started a fire, ablaze with flames of red and orange. As we enter from the icy night, he jovially hands us steaming cups of tea and coffee and offers words of consolation in a thick northern accent.
He outlines how the business kicked off in 2004 with only two accommodation cabins, development rapid as the word spread and popularity grew. Highly dexterous, he modestly reflects on the expansion of the company: he built the cabins with his own hands.
"This is the perfect business for me", he comments as he stokes the blazing fire.
"I live on site and every day do things that I love".
As a native of the north, the habits and customs that surround him have become culturally ingrained … they’re now a way of life. With a four-year old son, he has his hands full; yet, as he ruminates on his lot, he concludes that "I would not have things any other way.”
Plunging into Icy Waters Below Frozen Lake Altajärvi
Before retiring for the night, Kylie and I decide the experience would be incomplete without starting some fires of our own. We make haste for the large sauna on the shores of the frozen lake and collect a barrow full of wood on the way, trudging our way through the snow.
With Kylie's expert pyro skills, the fire is roaring in minutes. We see a hole in the floor of the sauna, an opening to another world. Do we plunge or do we stay warm and toasty by the fire?
We dip our toes with notable hesitation through the hole, into the icy waters and immediately retract them. One a nurse and the other in training, we decide – after several toe-plunges – that a dip would produce a physiological insult so great that thermo-regulatory compensatory mechanisms would be immense, and it is not worth the risk of injury.
However, I fear the regret of not trying. So, after halting further self-dissuasion, I take a leap of faith and plunge through the hole into the dark, icy depth of Lake Altajärvi. The water, although cold, is not as glacial as the wind blowing outside.
Cross Country Pseudo-Skiing
The next morning, the skies are clear and the sun sheepishly shows itself over the horizon.
I attach my skies to boots and set off across the lake in an attempt to cross country ski.
Having never skied in my life, I’m unfamiliar with the technique required for success. I notice my coordination is askew as I gracelessly glide, catching one ski on the other. After the third face plummet - 100 metres across the lake, I decide it isn’t the sport for which I was designed and retire.
I opt for some scenic photography and don my exaggeratedly oversize snow boots then trudge into the forest.
Reflections on Staying at Camp Alta
Returning to the regional airport later in the morning, I ruminate over the events that have unfolded.
Travelling to the north of Sweden had exposed us to a surreal beauty I thought existed only in the mind. Even without the presence of the Borealis, the cultural habits demonstrated by the host and the resplendent aesthetic of the landscape conveyed a peculiarly surreptitious existence: a life filled with fantasy and intrigue.
Visiting Kiruna and participating in native activities provided us with a glimpse into a life that is, in most senses, completely divergent to our own.
Given the chance, I will return to Camp Alta in a heartbeat to learn about other aspects of nativity that exist in Sweden’s beautiful yet rugged northernmost frontier.
I want to go!
You’d love it!