Reader\'s Digest Australia & New Zealand - June 2018

June• 2018 | 113

READER’S DIGEST

together. We laughed. The artist,

Luca Roncoroni, said he created it

so that guests who were worried

aboutsleepinginsub-zerotempera-

tures could count the sheep and fall

asleep more easily.

That night, no aurora. The next

morningIwokeveryearlytoseeif

Icouldcatchit.TheSwedeshavea

nameforthepolartwilight,usually

atitsmostpronouncedarounddusk,

when the long shadows merge. hey

call itblå timmen, the blue hour.

Atdawn,asIwalkedtotheedgeof

the lake, that name came to me. he

skywasthesoftestblue.Andthe

snow.Andthetrees.Everyshadeof

blue – blue merging to slate beneath

the trees, to ultramarine in the wa-

ter-clearskyoverhead.Andinthe

south-west, a silver-blue half-moon

was setting.

Ifeltgiddy.Sooften,whenwe

travel,wecomeforonethingandare

blindsided by something else. I real-

ised that I was loving winter again,

thewayIhadasachild,whenthere

was nothing better than sledding.

THE AURORA SAFARI CAMPoutside

of Luleå was our next stop. Its name

virtually guaranteed a sighting. It

wasalsoachanceforevendeeper

immersion: we were staying in con-

ical tepees with cloth skins inspired

by traditional Samilavvushelters.

hemercurypeggedat−23°Cfortwo

days.Atnight,KimandItookturns

stoking the little woodstove every

on a snowmobile, and as Espen had
donewiththesleds,hekeptitsimple.
“his is your machine. Here is the ig-
nition,thethrottle,thebrake.Keep
your feet tucked in here in case you
tipover.”Bigsmile.“Let’sgo!”
Kenth is a master dog sledder and
aconsummatestoryteller.In1994he
rantheIditaroddogsledrace–1600
kilometres through Arctic Alaska.
In2006,heguidedPrinceAlbertII
ofMonacototheNorthPole.Iasked
himwhathedidinhisfreetime.
“Moose hunting. It’s my Arctic-male
version of yoga.”
Off we went. We throttled out of
thewoodsontothewhiteexpanse
ofthelake,wheretworeindeerwere
sunbathing.Wezoomedontothe
riverTorneandalongawell-beaten
trackmarkedwithstormpoles.
Our faces froze, our eyes squinted
against the blast. here was Kenth’s
village,Poikkijärvi,astringofsmall
houses along the southern bank.
Across the river was the hamlet of
Jukkasjärvi, home to the Icehotel,
thefamoushotelthatmeltsevery
springandisrebuilteveryautumn,
whenartistsfromallovertheworld
come to each carve one of the dozens
of rooms. here is an ice bed with a
reindeer skin inside each – essen-
tiallyanicecavewithasteadytem-
perature of around −5°C.
KimandIwalkedintoaroomwith
aherdoficesheepjumpingoveran
icefence,theirlufywoolmadeof
thousands of little ice balls stuck