Surely all this makes up for it?Īfter a couple of nights in the glass igloo, peering out from my bed into the sky at regular intervals and seeing nothing but clouds, I begin to understand their frustration. A husband and wife from Hong Kong tell me they’ve been here for a week and still haven’t seen the northern lights.
It’s an extraordinary moment – the light, a special kind of violet, blankets the west while, behind us, a huge moon rises from among the trees where wild reindeer observe us warily. But it’s only hot berry juice we drink as we pause a mile or so out of town to watch the sun go down. There’s even a snowmobile-mounted branch of the police who, we’re warned, may stop and breathalyse us. By that time I’m zipping across frozen marshland on a snowmobile, a piece of kit that Laplanders love to use for business – they’re handy for the annual reindeer roundup – and pleasure. Though there is daylight at this time of year, darkness creeps in from about 1.30pm. I feel like I’ve breached an unspoken rule: you just don’t talk about the fact that Santa might not be the real thing. “No, I’m not an actor,” he tells me firmly. Jaana, who accompanies me to Santa’s Village, tells me she was once a wedding elf, then a tour-bus elf, and that most of the locals have done their share of elfing: “They take it seriously, especially Father Christmas.”Īnd when I meet him, he stays resolutely in character.
Marko, who is 43, has already confided that he believes in him “in my heart”. It’s still dark as I prepare for a morning audience with Father Christmas, which inspires less mirth around here than might be expected. Dark furnishings are designed not to cast reflections on the heated-glass panels overhead and the adjustable bed allows you to prop yourself up, facing north, for the best possible view. In Lehtojärvi, there’s a definite no-frills feel – a basic bathroom and enough room to swing an arctic fox – but the focus is on looking out, not in. These are small, but toasty, borrowing the concept of 360-degree comfort-viewing of the night sky from luxurious resorts such as Kakslauttanen, 140 miles to the north. If you’re not keen on the prospect of a frozen bed in the snow hotel itself (rebuilt every year with ice from the nearby lake), there are 15 brand-new, glass-domed “igloo” rooms. My next chance will come 20 miles to the east, at the Arctic Snow Hotel in Lehtojärvi, also well out of the way of light pollution – a key demand among the steadily increasing numbers of aurora tourists. I don’t see anything apart from a clear sky that night, but I still have three more nights here and, in any case, the northern light I have already seen is exquisite: a hundred shades of blue under the moon and, in the morning, a slow dawn that scatters pink light over every snow-covered surface. We emerge on to an expanse of white that I assume is a clearing. Photograph: Antony Spencer/Getty Images/Vetta