There is a performer in the deep arctic regions of the world that goes by the name Aurora, last name Borealis. Legend has it that she appears every other day in the darkness of the winter months in the isolated northernmost regions of the earth, mesmerising and captivating audiences with her divine dance routines, against the backdrop of an assembly of stars from all corners of the Milky Way.
It was this legend, amongst other things, that drew Michelle and I to the small resort of Hotel Kakslautannen and Igloo Village in Lapland, close to the small Northern Finnish town of Inari deep within the arctic circle.
This was the furthest either of us had been into the Arctic region and we were looking forward to spending the night in glass igloos that allowed us to peer out into night sky from the comfort of our beds and warm sheets, in the hope of catching fleeting glimpses of Aurora. But the timing of her performances has always been unpredictable, their schedules like secrets jealously guarded by her protective mother, Nature. We did not know if we were making a trip in vain, but putting our trust and hope in our lucky stars, we were determined to try all the same.
By the time we arrived at the resort after a two-hour drive from the ski resort town of Levi (where we had stayed at the previous night), the mercury had dipped another five degrees to –30ºC. Bears were in hibernation, birds had flown south and after emerging from the warmth of the car, we began to wonder if we really wanted to be there.
Aside from the weather, the resort itself was a pleasant self-contained holiday destination. It had a warm restaurant for our meals, an extremely cozy lounge area for chilling out, and a single shared computer with internet access to keep us connected to the outside world… which somehow seemed so far away in the isolation of the resort. The only problem was that our igloo was up on a small knoll — part of a group of 20 glass igloos located 300 metres away from the reception and restaurant. This meant having to put on ten layers of clothing each time we wanted to go for a meal, and having to be on the constant lookout for possible ambushes by starving polar bears driven south by diminishing polar ice caps.
The worst piece of news though, was that there was only one small toilet in each igloo and both the male and female shower and sauna facilities were in separate cabins about 150 metres away. These facilities were communal and left nothing to the imagination, which meant that we needed to constantly look over our shoulders each time the entrance to the cabin creaked open, just to make sure we weren’t caught au naturel in any awkward situations.
We had arrived in time for dinner that night; a decent meal of fish and potatoes, washed down with a glass of red wine. We then quickly retired to the igloo to catch Aurora’s performance, only to be disappointed by a curtain of clouds that wouldn’t move away. The blistering wind had been replaced by a freezing stillness in the air and an all-consuming silence outside. We stayed up for a while and read to pass the time, but by midnight we decided it was futile to wait any longer and went to bed.
The next day, we learnt a valuable lesson in cold-weather survival skills. From the time we picked up the car from Rovaniemi, we had seen parking meter-like devices in most of the carparks but thought it odd that there didn’t seem to be an actual meter or slot for coins. We had also found an electrical cord on the floorboard of the passenger seat but had no idea what it was for. Upon our arrival at Kakslautannen, the hotel receptionist had advised us to park next to the row of “meters” as there was heating there. We thought it strange and wondered if there was some kind of magical underground convectional heating that would keep the car engine warm.
As it turns out, there was no magic, no convectional heating and no joy when we got into the car the next day to drive out for lunch. All we heard was the spluttering ignition and halfhearted cranking of the car. A kind soul from the hotel reception explained that the meter-like devices were in fact electrical power sockets for us to attach the electrical cords to our car batteries. I thanked her, blamed the sub-zero temperatures for the loss of our brain cells, and sheepishly detached the cord from her car and attached it to our car battery. Thankfully, the battery was sufficiently heated up an hour later and we never made the same mistake again.
That night, after braving the showers and enjoying a hot Finnish sauna, we waited for Aurora again. This time she did appear, as green and red streaks in the sky. But because of all the lights in the resort, we could only make out faint outlines in the sky, which turned up as stronger colours after a few seconds of exposure on our camera. But our attempt at photographing Aurora was interrupted by a sprint back to the igloo every ten minutes when the camera sensor froze up in the mind-numbing –30ºC chill.
After about an hour, the green and red streaks above the resort disappeared, and we resumed our vigil for more sightings. It wasn’t long before we spotted flickering lights in the sky at least a few kilometres to the east of our resort. Our first thought was to get into the car and head towards the lights, but we weren’t confident of our knowledge of the roads around the resort. What if we got lost? And what if the battery froze up again? We didn’t want to take the risk and decided to just watch from the safety of our igloo. The flickering was intense for about half an hour, before abruptly disappearing. Then the curtain of clouds came down once again, and there was to be no encore.
Our stay in Kakslautannen was relaxing, albeit fraught with inactivity as the temperatures conspired to keep us indoors most of the time. Although we achieved our goal of meeting Aurora, her identity remained a mystery to us as we were only able to witness a sneak preview of her performance and not the entire symphony. It was a little frustrating to say the least (much like all foreplay and no sex), but we will be back in the Arctic Circle someday… and we won’t leave until we get some!