This stunning winter wonderland is actually more magical in autumn
Reindeer and the colours of autumn in Lapland.
Snow, reindeer, Santa Claus. For most people, the far north of Scandinavia is synonymous with Christmas – a twinkling, wintry wonderland of snow-smothered forests and rosy-cheeked good cheer.
Visit during winter and you’ll certainly find a version of that. But you’ll also encounter temperatures that regularly plummet below minus 30 degrees and days where the sun never peeks above the horizon.
While every season in Lapland has its appeal, there’s a special allure to what the indigenous Sami people call “tjaktjagiesse” – the transition from summer to autumn that starts in August.
Autumn is the ideal time to venture outdoors.
It’s a period characterised by crisp mornings, warm sunny days and a colourful fanfare of autumn foliage. It’s the ideal time to venture outdoors – to fish, hike, bike and forage – and the lengthening nights offer the potential of glimpsing the fabled northern lights.
Although Lapland officially includes the northernmost parts of Norway, Sweden, Finland and the Kola Peninsula in Russia, the region one hour north of Lulea (pronounced Loo-lay-oh) in Sweden is particularly compelling.
Map of Swedish Lapland.Credit:
A forested wilderness of raging rivers and fish-filled lakes just below the Arctic Circle, it harbours a cluster of remarkable properties with innovative excursions and fabulous fare.
It’s also home to an intriguing cast of outdoor enthusiasts who embody the hardy pioneer spirit required to live and work in a place of climatic extremes. The secret of which appears to be drinking an inordinate amount of coffee.
Santa’s stunt double and me
“This is the worst weather for walking with bears,” says Mikael Suorra as we zigzag through bushy undergrowth in a forest of birch and pine trees.
We’re hiking into a blustery wind, which means that any bears in the vicinity are unlikely to smell us or hear us. This is a concern given Sweden’s forests are home to around 2500 brown bears and we just passed a clearing that had been completely stripped of berries – presumably by a hungry bear.
Not that Suorra is concerned. As the owner of Hide and See nature tours, he’s spent years exploring these undulating woodlands near the village of Harads and has been mock-charged by both a bear and a two-metre-high moose.
The secret with bears, he tells me, is not to play dead, but rather to shout and make yourself look as large as possible. And what happened with the moose? “I just hid behind a tree.”
During our two-hour hike, he explains that the “forest is always talking to you”. Moss on a tree trunk grows on the northern side while the branches reach south towards the sun.
I learn how to clear blocked sinuses using formic acid emitted by ants (a skill I hope I never actually have to use) and the most effective way to collect their protein-rich eggs to fry up for dinner.
After a lakeside “fika” (a cup of strong black coffee and a blueberry muffin made by his daughter), he demonstrates his most-prized skill: moose calling. Using a special conical loudhailer, he imitates the mournful cry of a cow in heat. “You can imagine how disappointed the bulls are when they turn up and find me,” he says.
In Sweden, the right to enjoy nature is enshrined in law.
The right to enjoy nature is so precious to Swedes, it’s enshrined in law. Called allemansratten, it’s a public access prerogative that means you can hike, forage and camp almost anywhere, provided you’re considerate and don’t litter.
That afternoon I join Robert Westin, owner of Arctic Adventure, for a kayak trip on the nearby Lule River – a broad, 450-kilometre-long waterway that starts in the far north of the country.
After selling his IT security business in 2019, he now offers fishing, kayaking and snowmobiling tours. “My father was a professional trapper and hunter,” he says, “so I spent every weekend in the wilderness.”
After paddling across the 200-metre-wide river, we skirt an island dotted with blood-red summer cottages and come ashore in a sheltered backwater by a small wooden hut.
Canoeing
Naturally, the first thing he does is light a fire to brew coffee. On an average day, he reckons he drinks at least 20 cups. “If you can’t make coffee in Sweden,” he says, smiling, “you won’t find a wife.”
Sitting in the warm, late-afternoon sun among a verdant landscape of fragrant pines, it’s hard to believe this entire river freezes solid in winter, transforming into a frosty playground for snowmobilers and ice fishers. The coldest temperature Westin has experienced is a frankly unimaginable minus 52 degrees. “It was fine,” he says. “You just need the right clothing.”
For the native Sami, who’ve been living in the Arctic for more than 2000 years, the right clothing was primarily animal hides and fur. Like many indigenous groups, they survived in the extreme conditions by utilising the natural resources around them.
The following day I meet Lars Eriksson, an 80-year-old Sami reindeer herder, at his property in the small hamlet of Flakaberg. With his snow-white beard, colourful wool gakti (a traditional tunic) and elaborately decorated leather belt, he could easily pass as Santa’s stunt double.
“My life is reindeer,” he says, explaining that he would spend the summers tending his herd in the forest before moving them to the coast in winter. All the reindeer in Sweden belong to the Sami; a mark on each animal’s ear uniquely identifies its owner.
All the reindeer in Sweden belong to the Sami.Credit: iStock
Having sold most of his herd, he now dwells in the same wooden house with no electricity where five generations of his ancestors lived.
“Everything has changed,” he says, wistfully. “You used to be able to survive on 400 reindeer. Now you’d need 1000.”
He explains that climate change and excessive logging have made it harder for the reindeer to find lichen, their main food source, so herders have to supplement their diet with hay.
Reindeer are unusual in that both males and females have antlers, which regrow every year. In an impressive feat of yogic dexterity, they shape them using their back legs, a process done by feel to ensure they grow symmetrically. When a reindeer is slaughtered, the Sami use everything, even down to the ligaments, which are dried and repurposed as thread.
Having devoted his life to reindeer, Eriksson is now happy to be home with his wife and a small herd of 40 animals that live in the surrounding forest. “I know every one of them,” he says, fondly. “They all have different personalities.”
Running with the pack
Training for winter – booties and a wheeled cart for the huskies.
If there’s one other animal that’s synonymous with the far north, it’s the husky. It’s believed that Arctic dwellers have been using huskies to haul supplies on sleds for more than 8000 years. Today, they’re employed mainly for racing and tourist rides, most of which take place in the snowy depths of winter.
At the amusingly-named Yellow Snow Husky Tours, located 70 kilometres north of Lulea, they have 39 Alaskan huskies and a busy winter programme that ranges from half-day sled rides and snowshoe walks to multi-day expeditions where you drive your own sled team.
During summer, it’s too hot for the dogs to pull, so tours are limited to kennel visits and short walks. However, as the temperatures start to drop in autumn, they begin training for the winter using wheeled carts.
Entering the outdoor kennel with Dutch owner Sanne Kouwenhoven, it’s immediately obvious who’s in charge. The dogs never take their eyes off her.
As soon as she starts opening the cages of the 10 huskies we’ll take out today, the rest of the pack go berserk – barking, jumping and racing around their enclosures. If only I got that excited at the prospect of going for a run.
While I put on their harnesses, she attaches them in pairs to the cart, carefully matching animals based on personality and experience. And then we’re off, out of the paddock, along a back road and onto a dirt trail that weaves through a dense forest of birch saplings.
After a while, she hands over the controls, showing me how to steer and when to use the brake to keep the pack at a comfortable trot. It’s an unexpectedly exhilarating experience. Standing on a raised platform at the back of the cart, I feel like a chariot driver as we charge through the forest.
While the dogs cool down with a splash in the lake next to the kennel, I ask Kouwenhoven the obvious question: how does a Dutch lady who once worked on an Australian outback crocodile farm end up running husky tours in Lapland? “I just found my place,” she replies, and her smile says it all.
Of Arctic baths and reindeer stroganoff
Aurora Safari’s floating cabin on the invigorating Rane River.
I’m visiting on a four-night itinerary organised by 50 Degrees North, the Scandinavian travel specialists. When we first discussed the trip, I assumed I’d have to endure some fairly “rustic” wilderness digs.
After all, Lapland is one of Sweden’s most sparsely populated regions, an area larger than Denmark plus Belgium with only about 250,000 people. And, of course, every building has to withstand the brutal onslaught of winter, a requirement that doesn’t leave much room for architectural creativity.
All of which makes the accommodation options all the more extraordinary. Over four nights, I stay in a minimalist floating cabin accessed via a creaking pontoon, a whimsical bird box-covered treehouse, a swish self-contained villa with a lakeside sauna and a safari-inspired glamping tent.
Leaping into the 15 degree river water, I emit a shriek that can be heard in Finland.
Any one of them would be notable in its own right but to have four in such close proximity is astonishing. The floating cabin is at Arctic Bath, a daringly designed spa hotel with six cosy pine villas in the Lule River and a striking log-crowned spa with two saunas and a bracing river water-filled plunge pool.
Guests are encouraged to follow the spa’s sauna ritual, which involves alternating between the saunas and the outdoor pool before finishing in the jacuzzi. Leaping into the 15 degree river water, I emit a shriek that can be heard in Finland.
Magical evenings at Arctic Bath spa hotel on the Lule River.
The glamping tent is part of Aurora Safari Camp, an all-inclusive wilderness lodge overlooking the Rane River that’s been inspired by the bush camps of Kenya. Comprising a communal dining lounge, three tipi-style cabins and two futuristic glass-roofed pods, the property’s headline attraction is the floating camp.
Moored in a nearby bay, this self-contained pontoon sleeps six and has an outdoor kitchen, a sauna, an alfresco wood-fired bath and a firepit.
I spend a lazy afternoon on it with the owner, Jonas Gejke, and his stepson, rotating between the sauna and the bath with invigorating dips in the lake. As the sun sinks towards the horizon, Gejke cooks a delicious reindeer stroganoff over an open grill on the back deck.
For sheer wow-factor, it’s hard to top Treehotel, a property on the outskirts of Harads that combines a heritage-listed guesthouse and restaurant with eight architect-designed rooms concealed in a pine forest. Every installation is an audacious design feat, ranging from a UFO and a bird’s nest to an entirely mirrored cube.
The bird lovers’ Biosphere.
I stay in the newest addition, Biosphere, which was designed by Danish architectural firm Bjarke Ingels Group. A glass-panelled cube suspended among the trees and covered with 350 bird boxes, the two-level structure has an inbuilt sauna, a high-tech water-recycling shower and a 360-degree treetop roof terrace. It’s like waking up in a fairy tale.
While the region’s accommodation is an unexpected highlight, the exemplary food scene is no surprise. Scandinavian cuisine has rightfully taken its place among the world’s best, showcasing a laudable commitment to seasonal produce and locally foraged ingredients.
Standout dishes include a cherry smoked Arctic char with fingerling potato foam at Arctic Bath that’s theatrically unveiled from beneath a smoke-filled glass dome, plus a delicious reindeer tartare with pickled red onions and cloudberries at Treehotel.
The fish is matched with a tropical white wine made using solaris grapes from Kullabergs Vineyard (who knew Sweden made wine?) and the tartare is served with an intensely fruity Ralund berry wine created using hand-picked local blueberries (who knew you could make wine from berries?).
Locals have been filling their larders with wild berries, mushrooms and herbs for generations, but it wasn’t until 1996 that they discovered their backyard is home to one of the world’s most valuable mushrooms, a pungent species called matsutake.
On an outing with local mushroom expert Petri Storlopare (an endeavour preceded by a strong black coffee served from the back of his battered Volvo, naturally), we scour the forest floor, finding several matsutake among the dozens of other edible species.
I get to sample them later that day when Gejke fries some up to accompany our reindeer stroganoff at Aurora Safari Camp. To my uneducated palate, they taste pretty much like any other mushroom, but in Japan they can fetch a staggering $3000 per kilogram.
Behold the Arctic Fantasia
The northern lights in autumn.
Before letting me depart, Lapland has one final flourish up its sleeve – a sky-flooding display of its most elusive but sought-after spectacle: the northern lights.
Normally, winter offers the best chance of seeing them, but as we’re nearing the peak of an 11-year solar cycle (predicted to occur between November 2024 and March 2026), autumn also offers this tantalising prospect.
The uninspiring scientific explanation for the aurora borealis is that it’s the interaction of solar winds with the Earth’s magnetic fields. Which does nothing to convey the soul-stirring impact of actually witnessing it.
On my penultimate night, the stars and the solar flares align and the show begins at 11pm. For the next two hours, I lie on the deck outside my cabin at Sorbyn Lodge, watching shimmering plumes of blue, green and purple dance across the inky night sky. It’s an appropriately dramatic finale to the trip – a natural spectacle that’s wild, primeval and utterly mesmerising.
Five reasons to do another Lap in winter
Winter activities … dog sledding.Credit: Getty Images
Dog sledding
Experience the thrill of driving a team of huskies through the snow-smothered Arctic. Choose from a half-day outing to a multi-day expedition staying in remote wilderness cabins. See yellowsnowhuskytours.com
Ice fishing
Fish for Arctic char and redfin perch through a hole cut in a remote frozen lake surrounded by woodlands. See hideandsee.se
Snowmobile safari
Weave through snow-laden pine forests looking for moose and reindeer, then enjoy a wilderness lunch cooked on an open fire. See arcticadventure.se
Aurora photography
Learn how to capture the majesty of the northern lights with a professional photographer from a prime viewpoint near Arctic Retreat eco-lodge. See arcticretreat.se
Ice sculpting
Unleash your inner Rodin with an ice sculpting workshop using blocks carved from the frozen Rane River. See aurorasafaris.com
The details
Tour
Scandinavian specialist 50 Degrees North can organise a bespoke Swedish Lapland itinerary including flights, accommodation, activities and meals. See fiftydegreesnorth.com
When
While unpredictable, the northern lights can generally be seen from late-August until late-March. August is the best time for foraging for berries and mushrooms while September normally has the best of the autumn colours.
Fly
Emirates, Qatar Airways and Thai Airways all fly to Lulea via Stockholm. See emirates.com; qatarairways.com; thaiairways.com
The writer was a guest of Fifty Degrees North.