Hunting the aurora borealis in Lapland: A guided adventure under the stars
Half of this winter tour is spent above the Arctic Circle, but the aurora display is not the only reason to go.
The Northern Lights of Finland. This tour’s name is so emphatic, so alluring, it feels like a promise. The asterisks dotted through the itinerary remind me that’s not the case, of course. These stern little stars point to a disclaimer that the northern lights are “only visible when the sky is clear and free of clouds. As this tour is weather dependent, sightings … are not guaranteed.”
I know, I know – but with three of the tour’s six evenings spent above the Arctic Circle in Finnish Lapland, where winter nights are long, surely the odds are good. Especially as the most impressive and frequent aurora activity in a decade is happening now, until mid-2026. The northern and southern lights – or aurora borealis and aurora australis – appear in polar regions when the atmosphere’s charged particles are excited by solar activity, which is currently peaking.
My journey with group-tour operator Collette begins in Helsinki, where light pollution makes seeing a cosmic show unlikely. Countless cultural experiences await in Finland’s capital, however, several of which our group of 22 sample on a city tour. We’re aboard the coach well before departure, having heeded the advice of Kopi, our calm, amiable tour manager: “Five minutes early is on time in Finland.”
Local guide Maria reveals Helsinki highlights including a monument to Finnish composer Sibelius, and the light-filled “rock church”, its jagged walls made of granite blasted from the hill on which it stands. In contrast to its unobtrusive, minimalist approach is Helsinki Cathedral, the 1852 neoclassical pile atop a 60m-wide sweep of steps. This landmark is the main feature of Senate Square, where elegant architecture and a statue of Tsar Alexander II recall St Petersburg. As Maria explains, it all dates from when the Russian empire included Finland; the country now has the longest border with Russia of all European nations.
I’m staying at the smart boutique hotel Lilla Roberts, where breakfast presents an opportunity to explore Nordic cuisine. Forgoing the usual buffet temptations, I try deliciously dark malt bread and sunshine-yellow shots of zingy sea buckthorn juice. Local berries such as this turn up regularly on the menu during my time in Finland. Wild blueberry juice is the signature refreshment of Finnair, which carries us from Helsinki in Finland’s south to Ivalo up north; 68 degrees north in fact, even higher on the map than Iceland. Walking across snow from the plane to the small regional airport terminal feels fabulously Arctic Circle, though with the temperature a friendly few degrees below zero it’s not too Arctic.
Driving through an endless white landscape sprinkled with conifers, we arrive at Kakslauttanen Arctic Resort. Snuggled beside Urho Kekkonen National Park, its two separate “villages” are constructed of variously sized logs, including what look like bird boxes on poles, or perhaps petite elevated elf houses. Later, when the sun sets around 3.30pm, I realise they are actually a charming means of lighting paths. Sunrise won’t be until 9.30am, though around the winter solstice locals have to wait for weeks to see some proper rays.
We’re in Kakslauttanen’s west village, where reception, restaurant and shop are in a sprawling log cabin-style building. From the curvy carvings on tree-trunk columns to reindeer-antler chandeliers and art inspired by nature, the interior celebrates Sami culture. The European Union’s only indigenous people herd reindeer here in Lapland, a region extending across northern Norway, Sweden, Finland and into Russia.
Accommodation in the form of glass igloos dotted across a blanket of white at twilight is Kakslauttanen’s hero image. They’re great for watching auroras in bed, but the four-person igloos have small bathrooms, and the two-person only a toilet. Better options are the kelo-glass igloos, which are spacious cabins made of kelo pine logs with igloo annexes. It’s easy to while away the time inside by a wood fire or in the sauna. Indeed, Kopi tells us the latter, as a fundamental aspect of Finnish culture, is a must, and should be pronounced “sow-na”.
Time also passes pleasantly at the restaurant, as the food is surprisingly good in the middle of winter in the middle of nowhere. Apart from the ever-present house speciality, sauteed reindeer, the limited dinner menu changes nightly, and the breakfast buffet’s extensive Nordic selection includes smoked reindeer spread and several kinds of pickled fish.
Nature’s always calling visitors outside, however. For us the loudest siren song is from the unseen aurora, which we hunt for beyond the resort on the first night. Stepping off the coach at an elevated spot, I see snow whipped up by an icy wind in the headlights, and pale clouds above. Guided by Kopi’s advice and laser pointer, we search for patches of clear, inky sky.
The only stars are asterisks seen by my mind’s eye, but eventually there’s a hint of northern lights: a wispy grey streak, a ghost lurking in the clouds. This is nothing like the rippling curtains of colour we’re hoping for, though phone cameras, if held steady enough in the gale, do make the phantom appear green before it disappears.
Back in my cabin I look hopefully at the bedside “aurora alarm” which, along with all the others around the resort, will be activated if staff see those elusive lights. I’ll be ready, in bed under the transparent igloo dome, but then I wake in darkness to the sound of my own alarm starting a new day. Which is always ripe with possibility at the resort, whether you’re walking across the hushed landscape, snow softly squeaking underfoot, or enjoying activities such as horseriding, Nordic skiing and snowmobiling.
The tour’s first of three included resort activities is meeting Santa, who lives here in Finnish Lapland. We’re greeted by Sparkles the elf, who is far too tall to live in what I earlier mistook for elf houses, but her unflaggingly cute enthusiasm must be an elvish superpower. Surely no human could sustain it for two hours. Ringing an itty-bitty bell, Sparkles leads us to a wooden footbridge. If we scoop up snow and toss it behind us, she says, Santa will grant our wishes. Naturally I wish for the northern lights. Then we meet the man himself, in what looks like a giant gingerbread house. Santa’s English is limited but his manner warm, and Sparkles’ questions, photos and videos ensure each person’s time with him – even those requiring coaxing – is special.
Later, while feeding lichen to Santa’s reindeer, we’re still feeling chipper enough to chuckle when someone inevitably quips: “They’re likin’ the lichen.” Next day, others in the group report seeing Sparkles at reception and Santa repairing a bridge, both in civvies. They will always be Sparkles the enthusiastic elf and the real Father Christmas to me though.
The pinky-orange glow of sunset reminds me of my wish, but it’s cloudy as we wriggle into the resort’s polar-grade jumpsuits, boots, gloves and hats for a nighttime reindeer sleigh ride. These silent, rather sombre-looking creatures are harnessed to low wooden sleighs by their Sami owners, who wear a mix of modern and traditional Arctic attire.
Even the reindeers’ footfall is silent. I watch my ride’s furry, cloven hooves spread out on the snow with each step, hauling the sleigh, which makes a gentle whooshing sound. A red-ringed half moon peers through the clouds, lighting up the white terrain. In this magical moment I want for nothing else, even the aurora.
The spell is broken, albeit agreeably, as we arrive at a Sami-style tepee. Sipping hot, tasty forest-berry juice around the fire inside, we’re told it’s much larger than those used while herding. We are also shown reindeer antlers, which fall off annually – no wonder there are so many fashioned into chandeliers around the resort. They grow back, up to 2cm a day, in the exact same form.
I stare at the aurora alarm accusingly while getting into bed but the only colourful sky light is a brilliant sunrise after breakfast. Disappointment is banished, though, and excitement rises as we get ready for dog-sledding. Once again padded up like Michelin men, we hear the huskies barking well before reaching them. Harnessed to light wooden sleds and tethered to the ground, some leap into the air, desperate to run, while older, wiser dogs sit patiently, knowing the game’s afoot.
The tethers released, I take my boots off the simple metal brake, and my sledding partner and I are away with startlingly sudden speed. The barking stops, and there’s just the sled’s soft traction with the ice. Our six dogs sometimes snap at the snow – it’s hovering around 0C, so they’re hot and thirsty – but never break their bounding stride as we streak across the countryside. We’ve been briefed by our hosts, and are aided by rustic signs en route urging us to “Slow down!” and “Don’t brake!”. The huskies know the way, yet this much barely controlled dogpower makes for a wonderfully wild ride.
On the last morning in Lapland I look forlornly at the aurora alarm, then while heading to the airport and the tour’s final night in Helsinki, scan the darkness beyond the coach’s lights. Rounding a bend, a ribbon of light appears but it’s just the pale yellow dawn breaking through clouds. This time the northern lights of Finland was just that ghostly grey streak, but I’m determined to see the aurora someday, somewhere, asterisks be damned.
In the know
Collette’s seven-day Northern Lights of Finland tour is available November to March, from $7999 a person, twin-share. Includes accommodation, internal flights and 12 meals. Pack for Arctic conditions; winter gear is provided only for resort activities.
Patricia Maunder was a guest of Collette.
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