Icy Adventures in Norway

I’m far up in the northern reaches of Norway, where my guide says it is the “last wilderness in Europe,” where the surrounding forests, he says, are filled with moose, lynx, bears and wolverines. Fourteen hundred miles, straight as the crow flies, is the North Pole and Russia is a mere six miles away. Two months of the year, this area sees no sun, just fleeting twilight for a short period each day. There is an icy exoticism to the descriptions I hear of my surroundings near the town of Kirkenes. It’s going to get icier still when I embark upon my king crab safari.

Kirkenes is a small town of just 3,400 people, situated on a large bay that leads to the Barents Sea. However, I’m not sea bound but fjord bound. In an ancient-looking farmhouse, I don a snowsuit so padded and warm that I feel like the Pillsbury doughboy. I waddle over to a big sled and soon snowmobiles are pulling it and our small group of tourists across the beautiful, frozen landscape. Over the rivers and through the woods we go till we reach a frozen fjord. There, we disembark and prepare to fish for delicious king crab.

A few people help saw a huge hole in the ice and from there, an enormous wire cage is hoisted up filled with king crabs. They are emptied on the ice, each one looking bigger than the next with some spanning a couple of feet tip to tip.  After lots of oohs and ahhs, and near endless photo ops, the crabs are cut and cleaned. We then continue on our journey venturing into the woods to yet another farmhouse, this one filled with antique objects and period furniture from a bygone era (it’s also a wilderness lodge). Outside, a fire is lit and the crabs are deposited into big pots to cook while we roam the pretty grounds working up our appetites. Soon, in this backcountry setting, we dig into the fruits of our labor — platters overflowing with king crabs so fresh they are mouthwatering. After filling our bellies, we return to our sleds and snowmobiles to retrace our path across the arctic tundra, all in all, a delightful crabbing safari with lots of laughs had by all.

Our group heads into town, to explore the small village of Kirkenes. It’s a blink and miss place but of particular interest is a WWII bomb shelter, Andersgrotta, which has been converted into a subterranean tourist attraction. It’s an enormous labyrinth, a cave carved into the bedrock where local residents took refuge when air raid alarms sounded more than 1000 times during the war; given its proximity to Russia, Kirkenes had strategic importance and was among the most bombed of towns during the Nazi occupation of Norway.

Our adventure continues as our group heads to the Kirkenes Snow Hotel.  Every year from December till the waning days of April, this hotel carved from ice welcomes guests into a frozen setting. There are 20 or so “snow suites,” each with a bed framed with ice blocks upon which rests a mattress with thermal insulation. Surrounding the beds are intricate ice sculptures as well as wall decorations carved out of ice, each carrying interrelated themes like nature or whimsical tales. Each year the theme changes like a museum exhibition with top ice sculptors commissioned for the suite creations. Guests staying overnight are provided sleeping bags that retain body warmth to minus 35 degrees Celsius, or minus 31 Fahrenheit. I’ve stayed in a snow hotel before – one outside Quebec – and know well that ice walls serve as insulation so it’s not nearly as cold inside the Snow Hotel as it is outside. But for the moment, after touring the suites, I’m more interested in a libation from the ice bar than sleep. A friendly bartender is happy to oblige me in the stunning frozen lobby of the hotel.

Then I’m ready to warm up with a nature trek on snowshoes, guided by a man from a Sami tribe, the reindeer-herding people that are indigenous to this northern area. Dressed in traditional Sami garb, he leads my small group along lightly forested paths bordering a lake and up and down soft rolling hills. At times, the snow is knee-deep. But for an occasional hiker falling into these drifts — usually with some hefty guffaws — it’s a pensive trek as though each of us is lost in thought or listening to the silence of our surroundings. Mind you, snowshoeing can be laborious but the wide, oblong shape to the snowshoes spreads out a person’s weight and helps deter one from sinking into the snow. Long ago, these snowshoes were made of birch branches tied together with sinew; now they are a modernized, spiffy version that makes our trek very pleasant.

As nightfall descends, we end our journey by feeding reindeer in a stable area and enjoying tales from our Sami guide. He explains that in his culture, each person gets a “yoik” — an individual song developed by family or close friends to capture the personality of a person — like a short story characterization told through chants. A contemplative person might be represented through a slow, methodical song, a perky person with an upbeat, fast tempo. Our guide breaks into song to illustrate, and the yoik he sings is at once haunting, mesmerizing and beautifully melodic all at the same time.

“Once you get your yoik,” our Sami guide explains, “you keep it for eternity.”

As our fanciful day of icy adventures begins to wrap up, we warm ourselves by the fire of the Snow Hotel’s restaurant, Gabba, which means white reindeer in the Sami language. The circular restaurant is shaped like a large Sami tent and has an open fire-pit in the middle where fresh salmon and cod are being cooked. As we wait for the main course, I pick up a skewer of reindeer sausage and roast it over the open fire. It’s served with a flatbread made from potato flour, and is deliciously tasty. Later, I top my meal with ice cream (this is, after all, an adventure about ice) topped with forest berries.

Then it’s left to the brave among us to experience sleeping in the Snow Hotel; some opt out, pleased to have simply toured the hotel. One woman among our group is intent on testing out a new cell phone guaranteed to survive the chilliest of arctic temperatures, and insists she must sleep in the Snow Hotel to test her apps. Since I’ve already chalked up an ice hotel experience in Canada, I’m content to bid her good luck and adieu and I return to the warm and modern Thon Hotel in town. “Brrrr” thoughts are now far from my mind but for the memorable recollections of an exciting day of icy adventures.