{"id":91741,"date":"2019-12-23T11:08:00","date_gmt":"2019-12-23T10:08:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.voyages-d-affaires.com\/?p=91741"},"modified":"2019-12-23T11:08:00","modified_gmt":"2019-12-23T10:08:00","slug":"finnish-lapland-blue-hour","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.voyages-d-affaires.com\/en\/finnish-lapland-blue-hour","title":{"rendered":"Finnish Lapland: the blue hour"},"content":{"rendered":"

Report Serge Barret \/ Photos Alain Parinet<\/em><\/p>\n

We were expecting it, but all the same, +70 degrees Celsius all of a sudden, and we're thinking we're not going to last very long. And then some. That's when you're sitting on the lowest bench in the sauna... because on the top bench, the thermometer easily climbs to 80\u00b0, or even a little more. That's how the sauna works in Finland.<\/strong> Saunas are sacred, and even more so in the north of the country where, with an average of one sauna for every 2.5 inhabitants, they have become a way of life. There are saunas everywhere: in houses, in apartment blocks, on boats, in hotels... The must, however, is the old-fashioned sauna, which consists of heating up a hut without a chimney, built away from the house, if possible on the banks of a lake or river, and then airing it all out and inviting a few friends in. Business tourism groups are no exception to the rule, with some hotels making a point of highlighting the experience in bold letters on their brochures. This is particularly true of the Muotkantie hotel in Sodankyl\u00e4, on the outskirts of Ivalo, yet perfectly isolated in Finnish Lapland, 270 km north of the Arctic Circle.<\/p>\n

The result is a wooden hut on the banks of a frozen river, a tiny antechamber that doubles as a cloakroom and resting place, a log fire, furs thrown on low benches and, next door, a second room with smoke-blackened walls and candles lit everywhere... Absolutely charming<\/strong>It's a very warm place, with a temperature of 70\u00b0C inside and -17\u00b0C outside, but you won't feel the truly soothing effects until you've rolled around in the snow for a few seconds, or even dived into the river where you've cut a hole in the ice.<\/p>\n

Unexpectedly, the experience is not totally inhumane, as the previously overheated skin only feels tingling, almost like a slight burn, when it comes into contact with the extreme cold. In fact, the abominable ordeal generates a strong sense of fulfilment, all the more so as it is followed by a quick return to the warmth of the sauna, which is just as pleasant. deliciously abominable<\/strong>. There's no doubt that this adventure will be a highlight of your stay in Finnish Lapland, which today would be more politically correct to call 'S\u00e1mi country', a territory of 400,000 km.2<\/sup> extending beyond the Arctic Circle to four countries: Norway, Sweden, Russia and Finland.<\/p>\n

But if there's another experience not to be missed, it's that of the northern lights<\/strong>These fairy lights are the result of projections of particles launched into the atmosphere by particularly powerful solar flares. You can only see them in winter - roughly from November to April - and on a clear day, of course. And it's true that the spectacle is magical, sometimes downright hallucinatory. Especially as it's usually accompanied by a Far North adventure in dazzling landscapes under their blanket of snow, lit up by a moon at its brightest. In the early evening, one group will head deep into the forest on snowshoes, another to the top of a round hill on a snowmobile, and yet another to the flat surface of a frozen lake on homemade sledges pulled by a snowmobile.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>
A phantasmagorical apparition tinged with green, orange and sometimes blood-red, the Northern Lights regularly set the skies of Lapland ablaze.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Sarabande in the blue night<\/h2>\n

It's 9 o'clock in the evening. Night time, an incredibly blue night<\/strong> in these latitudes, has long since fallen on the country, as three cabins line up on Lake Inari. With their curvaceous design in the spirit of the 1950s, their Plexiglas roofs and their three large portholes pierced in each side, they look like children's toys or cartoon machines. The six occupants of each cabin, clad in suits loaned by the organisers, are shaken like plums: they roll over each other and slide on their reindeer-skin-covered seats. Because, contrary to appearances, the frozen surface of the lake is not flat. Far from it. It's even streaked with large ruts previously left by other vehicles, dented by snowdrifts, frozen and deep-frozen many times over. Cahin-caha<\/strong>The crossing lasts a good half-hour before reaching the other side of the lake and a viewpoint with a sort of tepee - a kota as the Sami call it - under which a wood fire is crackling. The campfire is very welcome, as are wetsuits, boots, gloves, balaclavas and even hats, because with the wind, the temperature can reach -20\u00b0\/-25\u00b0 on the ice of this gigantic lake.<\/p>\n

And the waiting begins. Who's going to set up their tripod and camera, who's going to get their mobile phone ready, and who's going to stuff their face with biscuits or gulp down a hot drink in the relative warmth of the tent... The wait is endless. Will it or won't it come, this aurora borealis with its diva-like whims... Nothing is less certain, even if the conditions are favourable - a cloudless moonlit night - with an aurora borealis guarantee of almost 95 %. Suddenly, the group of twenty or so people who were beginning to freeze in place became agitated. Someone spots something whitish in the sky<\/strong>Nothing spectacular, just a sort of cloud in the style of the trails left by planes. A good twenty minutes of near-disappointment, a growing desire to return home, until... until the Gods decided to enter the scene. And then! It's as if the heavens have suddenly gone mad. There's a commotion up there, a greenish saraband that never seems to stop. It twists and contorts, appears and disappears as it came, then starts up again, dripping in curtains of light and beautifully tinged with tender pink. The sky is convulsing, almost frightening. What must the first men have thought of such a spectacle?<\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>
A kind of tepee made from birch wood, the kota was originally used by Sami reindeer herders. It is in this traditional dwelling that tourists keep warm while waiting for the Northern Lights to come.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

But it's important to keep things in perspective. The Aurora Borealis is quite exceptional. \"Once or twice a month<\/em><\/strong>says the guide. And it's all about being in the right place at the right time.<\/em>.\" So let's just say that this group has had its day, and that its wait in the freezer will produce some of its most extraordinary photos.<\/p>\n

And yet, if the northern lights are at the very top of the hit-parade of \"good reasons to visit Lapland<\/strong>\"But they're far from the only ones. For some of the must-sees, you'll need to be a bit of a physical activity buff, but for others you'll almost need to be able to stand on your own two feet. Not to mention the cultural discoveries, of which there are many, provided you're just a tad curious. Finally, as far as the cold is concerned, and this is perhaps the big surprise, it's incredibly tolerable because it's so dry. But above all, the weather changes completely, and in no time at all: one day snow, the next steel-blue skies and brilliant sunshine.<\/p>\n

Sometimes we even change from one to the other several times a day. Last night the lake was practically lit up al giorno, but this morning it's snowing like crazy, with billions of plump butterflies the likes of which can only be seen in children's drawings. It's all wrapped up in a thick coat<\/strong>The roofs are like the branches of pine trees. Everything is smooth, totally untouched. It's sublime, and it'll be even more so later on during a sporting trip to the tundra surrounding Saariselk\u00e4, 30 minutes south of Ivalo. A ski tour, that goes without saying. But these are Altai skis, in other words, skis that are a bit special, halfway between snowshoes and classic skis, and that make it easier to cut through the powder. In use, they're as easy as pie, even for beginners. But you have to admit that it's pretty physical.<\/p>\n

So we set off into a landscape of great white and... \"push on the poles!\" We glide a little over a slight incline, sink into the powder and quickly drop the mufflers, as we're starting to sweat a lot in the big fleece suits. Just to look pretty, the snow is still falling thick and fast<\/strong>The guide explains that they are \"dwarf\" birch trees, which bend under their own weight until they touch the ground. The guide explains that they are \"dwarf\".because they have studied their move perfectly, making themselves more flexible than a willow under the weight of the snow<\/em>\". Everything is covered, the shrubs disappear under mounds of snow, the fir trees become Christmas trees and the group, no doubt because they are so focused on the effort, now moves in complete silence. We pass a few more canyons, cross a torrent on what we guess is a small bridge, and then stop.
\ntime for an invigorating snack in a log cabin. In all, the walk only lasted two hours, but it was still with some relief that the less experienced suddenly spotted the miraculous minibus that would take them back to the hotel. Still in heavy snow. And then the sauna again - we've finally got the hang of it! But a modern sauna this time.<\/p>\n

\"Lapland<\/a>
Lapland is criss-crossed by a multitude of rivers and wild lakes, including the Inari lake, one of the largest in Europe and dotted with over 3,000 islands.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

All you have to do is let yourself slide<\/h2>\n

Of all the experiences, the Altai skis will undoubtedly be the most physical. Because there will be many other adventures<\/strong>Finnish Lapland and its immense wilderness are not short of activities. So we're going to try our hand at two different activities, one animal-powered and the other mechanical. Starting with the funniest and liveliest of them all: husky sledging.<\/p>\n

Husky sledding is easy: the dogs do everything. All you have to do is let yourself slide, two people per sled, one acting as musher - so standing behind - and the other lying on the platform made more than comfortable by the soft reindeer skins. In fact, there's not much to do, as one team follows another, belly down and tongue hanging out. The lead sled is of course driven by a seasoned musher<\/strong>. It's so simple that training on the sled takes just three minutes, enough time to assimilate the principle of braking and to understand that you have to lean into the bends to prevent the sled from chasing too hard. All this is accompanied by the howling of the dogs, already harnessed and impatient for the start. Clearly, they love it! In fact, they get off to such a flying start that it never fails to surprise both the musher standing up and the passenger lying down. But in the end, the biggest surprise comes from the silence, as the dogs stop barking as soon as the sled leaves. They run and run and pull and pull with tongues as big as this, almost reaching the snow, and fly with their tails to the wind towards their wonderful country.<\/p>\n

The magnificent procession is now winding its way along tracks marked out on the icy tundra, raising thousands of sparkling particles in the rays of the low northern sun. The wind, added to the speed of the dogs, who are hardly sparing themselves, is pulling tears from their eyes that are on the verge of freezing. Not the tears, which might be possible after all... No, no! The eyes! God, it's cold!<\/strong> Fortunately, everything has been planned and the equipment on loan is very, very welcome. Birch woods, fields of snow, shadows bluer than Impressionist painters, the screech of skates on the icy carpet, panting dogs, a few curving descents and the unspeakable childlike joy of gliding like the wind. It's amazing how the far north can be a reminder of childhood joys, including those of Father Christmas, who has set up his shopping centres a little further down the road in Rovaniemi, the capital of Finnish Lapland, which you can always visit on a day trip. Because distances don't matter in this flat country.<\/p>\n

\"Five<\/a>
Five to a sledge, the huskies speed happily across the icy tundra. It's a release of energy they're looking forward to, but once they've started their effort, it's with the utmost calm that the travellers make their way along the white paths, silently contemplating the great spectacle of winter.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Kneeling<\/a>
Kneeling down as tradition dictates, travellers can try their hand at hole fishing. The wait is often long - which doesn't put off Chinese tourists, who love this practice - but the catch is naturally fresh.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

And then there's the Lapland adventure. snowmobile safaris<\/strong>It's a means of transport like any other. In fact, it's a means of transport like any other, a gateway to modernity that allows you to go just about anywhere in winter - which lasts more than seven months, by the way - to do just about anything: look after the reindeer herds, do your shopping at the supermarket, visit the neighbours and also entertain the tourists. And they don't hesitate. Agencies, rental companies and even hotels organise hikes lasting a little over half a day, or even longer, along paths laid out in the forests or on the frozen lake. One of the most popular adventures combines all possible versions of Lapland landscapes to end at a small church, one of the few monuments forgotten by the routed Germans during their systematic destruction of the country at the end of the last world war.<\/p>\n

Basically, snowmobiles work on the same principle as sledges. Except that it goes infinitely faster, infinitely further, on infinitely steeper routes and, unfortunately, with a little more noise and pollution. On this last point, research into electric motors is being undertaken in Rovaniemi, the main obstacle being to create batteries that can withstand the extreme cold. Since the 60s Sami reindeer herders<\/strong> have made the snowmobile an essential part of their daily lives, if not their culture. Admittedly, the snowmobile does not yet feature on traditional drums, which are representative of local culture along with reindeer, trees, birds, tents and boats... But at the rate things are going, especially since these aborigines - the only ones in Europe - have reclaimed their identity, there's nothing to stop us thinking about it, or even from seeing a new aesthetic emerge under the brushes of a new Basquiat, this time from the Arctic.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/a>
A long time ago, in the middle of the 18th century, thee<\/sup> In the 16th century, it was the centre of the village, where the inhabitants would gather to spend the long winter months. The village then moved to what is now Inari. This is all that remains of the church in the wilds of Pielpaj\u00e4rvi, rescued from the horrors of the Second World War and standing alone in a clearing of birch trees.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Sacred drums<\/h2>\n

An indigenous culture. A formidable civilisation<\/strong> to discover at the Inari museum, the Siida, which means \"village\". Here you can learn that the S\u00e1mi live in the north of Finland, Norway, Sweden and on the Kola Peninsula in Russia, with only 10,500 people living in Finland, a third of the population of Norway and Sweden. Each ethnic group has its own customs, costumes, drawings and sometimes even language, based on a common core. The museum, next to a traditional village reconstructed from old houses that escaped the fire of the war against the Germans and have been transported here one by one for posterity, is completely open to the outside world, bright and skilfully designed. Highly didactic, it leads to an understanding of the genius of this people who, whatever the cost, had to adapt to the rigours of an extreme climate.<\/p>\n

Videos, photos, sounds, everyday objects, costumes, habitats and spiritual elements are all on display. These include the famous drums used by the ancient shamans during their ritual trances, which can be found everywhere in stylised drawings. This is primitive art, usually presented in a contemporary graphic arts version on restaurant tablecloths or hotel room walls. But there's nothing nostalgic about it. On the contrary, it's perfectly enhanced by the pure Scandinavian design that can be found absolutely everywhere, in hotels and restaurants alike. It's even surprising, this way of staging warm, contemporary interiors<\/strong> drawing inspiration from the culture and the environment, without ever indulging in folklore. And that includes gastronomy. Particularly that of Heikki Nikula, who has not forgotten his Sami ancestors and, in his restaurant Aanaar, presents an extraordinarily inventive menu made exclusively from local produce that is sometimes almost forgotten. Without a doubt, one of the best places in the region for a last supper before heading home. Before or after the sauna, of course.<\/p>\n