Travelling light

Anything it touches becomes instantly more beautiful, colourful. It chases away gloom and despair as effectively as a teddy bear chases away monsters under the bed. The nearer you come to the polar circles, the softer it gets. I am talking about light, of course.

Before coming to Lapland, all I knew was that winter here is dark and depressingly long. I thought it would be devoid of all those qualities that light lends a day; I pictured it as the Dementor of seasons – that it would suck all joy, the will to live, and even the soul out of anyone who has to live through it.

Turns out, I was wrong. Lapland in winter is actually lighter than home. Everything is covered in powdery white, glittering snow that reflects the sunlight in every direction. When the skies are clear, they are the brightest blue you could possibly imagine. The air is clean, cold and crisp. With temperatures far below zero for extended periods of time, the humidity is extremely low, and in a region covered in forests, mökkis and some of the cleanest lakes of the world, the air feels fresher and purer than I ever thought possible.

Trees and forests appear magical, especially when the skies aren’t actually open: When the sun is only visible as a big round disk with a warm glow behind a translucent screen of clouds, its light diffused and golden, the trees, covered in a thick layer of snow, start looking like an army of little elves and gnomes.

And while days are shorter, twilight is longer than back home. The sun comes up and sets slowly, and the light blushes: It turns a pretty hue of pink. Or, if you are really lucky, it will turn bright red or violet, making your photographs look as if you had sent the through an editing program and let your imagination go wild.

But it’s not as if it stopped in the twilight hours. Many visitors come specifically to see nature’s light show, the aurora. The phenomenon actually occurs irrespective of the time of day, even in broad daylight, but its effect – the polar lights – only become visible against the contrast of a pitch-dark sky. I have not been lucky enough to witness them myself yet, but anyone who has tells me that they are absolutely magical.

So, I stand corrected. Winter in Finland is not the Dementor of seasons; it’s the light portal to fairy land, and I am not surprised Santa chose it as his residence!

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