Scandiroads #15 Reindeer road

The tiniest rocks jumped up against my car window as I uncomfortably heard them beat up my precious car window, as I tried to remember if I had taken full insurance for this car. I left a suffocating cloud of dust behind me even though I hardly drove 50 on the gravel road. I don’t know who had come up with the rule of driving 80 on this road but I wanted no part of it. I know the Finnish are brave on that and know their country roads, even though I still think 80 is way too fast for a rather slippery road where braking takes you about 30 seconds, which is way too late if one of the many reindeer decides to cross. But maybe, originating from the Netherlands with its almost perfect roads, I was just being a pussy. But as I slowly got more comfortably with this road and just prayed I wouldn’t unnecessarily have to break, I got my guts together and sped upto, believe it or not: 55. I didn’t even want to go faster, because there was way too much beauty to witness. There was the solid wall of pinetrees that allowed me a sneakpeek into their dense forests with their fifty shades of green and their church-alike silence. Sometimes they moved properly and allowed me to see one of Finland’s many, not so hidden treasures: their massive lakes. They were absolutely everywhere, and except for a few cute puddles, most of them were giants. They were black but clear, they were still but deep, they were massive but peaceful. Very sometimes a green hill rolled upwards and that is of course where I spotted my favs again: the reindeer.

I could never get enough of the amazing fact that the reindeer here were basically like rabbits in the Netherlands, like pigeons in a city or like fish in the ocean, my point being, they were everywhere and nobody seemed really surprised with it anymore. I judged that based on the 3 cars I had spotted during my first hour on the road, that all passed me by with about double my speed and quickly led me to brake and wait for the cloud of dust to disappear. As I said, I’m not the bravest driver, I’m more like your typical grandma-driver. That being admitted, I did absolutely enjoy how the road kept going and going, straight and gravel-ish, some peaceful protest starts in your body after a little while of seeing only the same. Your mind gets numb and you go into relax mode and realize again how busy and crowded your normal day-to-day life is. It didn’t bore me for a single second, and I had to keep paying attention to the silver beauties that kept crossing the road. I lost track of how many I’d been seeing but I’m not lying when I say I saw more than 50 within 1.5 hour. Some had the biggest, most complicated antlers I’d ever seen, that made me rather not bump into them during a hike, and others had innocent little stubs on their head that were an antler to be, but for now they seemed confident with these. And very sometimes a total treat for the animal lover appeared; a youngster. The tiny calves came across as little clumsy creatures with their big heads, even bigger eyes, antler-free soft heads and long legs. They looked at the world with brave curiosity, still unaware that they were an easy target for the many prayers of Lapland. Yet, most of the reindeer travelled in groups of impressive amounts that made this beautiful vow to protect their children at all costs.

How much protection they really needed, I wondered, as every time my car got too close to them, they hopped away, their long legs beautifully stretched and their heads facing the skies. And then finally, after reindeer-road, I entered an asphalt road again. It was still reindeer road, they were still grazing by the sides or taking their sweet time on the road, but at least I felt like I was on solid ground again. I felt like a little break was deserved, and I stopped by the road facing one of the first wooden homies again after hours. And then another reindeer appeared, soon followed by another, and another. And before I knew a pack of at least 20 reindeer calmly walked my way. They were not intimidated, I was. As beautiful and calm as they are, they are pretty big and their antlers could do some serious harm. Never have I ever heard of a reindeer attack, but still, I stayed close to my car as the herd proudly walked my way. It was almost as if they wanted to show me they were the boss here, I tried to consider it as a Lapland-welcome, and I wondered if I passed the ritual. They couldn’t care less as they walked by me and I was the one staring full impression as their legs slowly and beautifully dragged their majestic silver bodies forward, and their hooves created a calming sound on the road, being the only sound. Lapland really was a magical place, even without the winter and Santa, who left his reindeer behind, the magic was just as strong.

The sun stood high in the sky and seemed relaxed with the idea of not going anywhere, hanging around. It fit the whole world Lapland was, with the trees forever being still, the forest seeming so quiet, the lakes hiding whatever movement is going on in their depths and the only one road being abandoned. And now I continued my ride, forever guided, or sometimes slightly slowed down, by the reindeer. Why would they bother moving, the road was a much easier way to travel than the forest. I give them all the right to, I didn’t even try to go around them and risk scaring them. We built in their homes, even though so minimally here, so they had all the right in the world to benefit from it. And finally it appeared, the sign of Inari. This felt like a big thing after all the forest, but Inari was simply a gathering of 1 pretty wooden church, 1 tempting looking souvenir shop, 2 cosy bars, 1 pizzeria, and a supermarket. And a lake, obviously, and just 1 road, Lapland style. Considering the low amount of hidden houses by this road I soon realized there couldn’t be too many people living in this little Sami town, and reality blew my already low but not that low expectations: 581. It was rather easy to find the accommodation for my upcoming 4 nights; it was the only one.

Villa Lanca, a gorgeous little wooden home with only a few rooms, super spacy with comfortable big beds, a perfect little writing desk and a huge bathroom. It was perfect. Even better was that the reception was part of the living room of a woman named Satu, which really made me feel like I was a guest staying in her home, that she liked to personally interact with. As I entered and slightly awkwardly let her do her welcome talk in Finnish before I had to interrupt, I soon got into an amazing conversation with her about how the fiery passion that burned inside me for this country, became. When she found out I had slight experience with dogsledding she enthusiastically asked if upcoming winter, during Christmas break, I wanted to be a part of her team of mushers (that’s the word for the ones working with sleddogs) and I almost cried with happiness. Immediately I said yes, whatever I had to deal with to get this done, I would do. I couldn’t believe that the second I got back to Finland, again it found a way to lour me back. Somehow I always kept coming back to this country and the country seemed to be welcoming me in special ways. But for now I was here to enjoy the summer, and after a very strange long, disorienting nap and some writing, I crossed the street and walked to the dock to have a look at the lake. As it was now 11, the sky seemed to prepare for the darkness that wouldn’t come; it had a cottoncandy-alike stripe and some orange vibes through it. a thick white evening fog pulled over the lake like a curtain of mystery, and the water was as always, motionless. The trees were black silent silhouettes at the far end, and I could feel a chill setting in as the fog travelled my way. And as if the fairytale had to be completed, a few seconds later a group of reindeer appeared hardly a few meters away from me, stared at me curiously, and started grazing peacefully. Apart from the horrendous herd of mosquitos, this place was simply a page of an endless fairytale book, and it was called Finland.

- It's an amazing life