Snowmobiling in Finland

Last Updated on June 13, 2022 by Adam Watts

As part of a work trip, I went snowmobiling in Finland. More accurately, it was listed as a “secret activity”, but one of our hosts had to pull out and was replaced by someone else from the office who asked, as soon as we got in the van, “So, have any of you been snowmobiling before?” Groans from our hosts, fake surprised excitement from us since we’d already figured out what the activity was.

The minivan dropped the nine of us off at the top of an icy slope leading down to a big wooden cabin. The driver said, “sorry, I can’t get down there.” Turns out we barely could either. We slipped and slided and struggled down the hill, but nobody was injured. Yet.

Suiting Up

Our guide and leader was a burly, bearded Finn named Aapo. “Come here, WiFi,” he said, surprisingly tenderly for someone with a lifetime’s experience in the Finnish wilderness. Then an adorable beagle trotted in. “Say hello to everyone, WiFi.” Oh, the dog’s name was WiFi. Cute. WiFi bounded around the room and greeted everyone with a face lick.

Aapo and a few other people provided us with lots of warm-weather and safety gear until we all looked like astronauts heading out onto the Moon. Astronauts with zero training or experience who are surely about to die. Thankfully Aapo then spent a full 60 seconds giving us a rundown on all the things we needed to do to not die at the hands of these death machines. “And don’t forget to have fun!” He added.

On the Ice

In case you can’t tell, all my excitement had evaporated as the prospect of actually driving one of these beasts loomed, replaced by sheer terror. But like everyone else, I climbed on a snowmobile. We would ride single file so I made sure I wasn’t in the front few. That way if the ice cracked and swallowed the first few people I’d have time to veer sideways, make a U-turn and wait quietly in the minivan.

Ahead of us was maybe twenty feet of flat snow, then a right turn out onto the frozen sea. It occurred to me that maybe I’d accidentally accelerate too much and tip over at the corner, then I’d crawl, bleeding, back to the minivan.

The best outcome seemed to always result in returning prematurely to the sweet safety of the minivan.

With the myriad ways this could go wrong still bubbling in my head, Aapo told us to turn the ignition on. Vrooooom all nine of us went. Snowmobiles are loud, jeez! The sound reminded me of the karting track from my twelfth birthday, back in the days when I had no concept of mortality. Now death had never seemed closer.

The front few people sputtered forward, everyone gripping tight and uncertain on the handlebars like kids learning to ride a bike. My turn came all too quickly. I twisted the throttle, a little too gently and I barely moved, but I twisted again, spurting forward a few feet at a time, and eventually I made it around the corner and onto the ice.

Now the snowmobile seemed almost to know what was expected of it, following the tracks of the person in front. Before long, I was brave enough to lift my nose and peek left and right. The landscape really was beautiful. Just look at it! If I was seconds away from collapsing through a thin patch of ice, I couldn’t have asked for a more picturesque vista to take with me to the seabed.

We stopped after maybe half a mile for a check-in, to make sure everyone was comfortable. My hands were shaking, as were a few others, but everyone was loving this. Snowmobiling in Finland like this was not just some casual Tuesday after the office. As one of us put it, “We are very lucky people.” Indeed.

Aapo told us that Russia was only a few miles away. Suddenly the thought of tearing away across the ice and going to live in a cabin in Siberia seemed like my life’s dream. Why was I waking up every day and sitting at desk? But just as I was pondering the practical aspects of ice-fishing for my food and how much more challenging that would be than making my ten-thousandth pivot table, we reached land.

Into the Woods

We were heading off the ice and into the woods. Flat, expansive ice was easy as one foot in front of the other compared to this snow trail. Now I was the snowmobile equivalent of two left feet.

There were sharp turns and pools of water to skim through. All around us were trees that would put a swift stop to our fun if we were to miss a turn and drive straight into one.

Again we survived. But the most dangerous part, as it turned out, was still in front of us.

The Final Hurdle

We came back out onto the ice, then eased our snowmobiles to a stop on the ice close to a tuft of land at the edge of the forest. This was our final stop, and it was for hot blueberry juice, grilled sausages, and some delicious pulla (bread flavored with cardamom).

But before we could enjoy the snacks, we had to walk fifty feet from the snowmobiles up to the picnic bench and BBQ pit. The walk was across ice, but we’d all had many years putting one foot in front of the other. We didn’t give this portion of the journey a second thought. And after all, walking was nothing compared to riding giant death machines over the frozen sea at 25km/hr.

Famous last words.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, thwack. One of our group hit the deck. Hard. She landed right on her tailbone and struggled to her feet, breath knocked out of her. She was okay, but as we munched on the delicious sausages and pulla, we mused on possible life lessons here. Don’t take things for granted? Accidents sometimes happen for no reason to completely competent people? Seemingly dangerous and terrifying activities like snowmobiling are actually a piece of cake so everyone should take lots of risks all the time? Ice is a treacherous little bitch? 

Whatever lesson we were supposed to learn, what we actually learned was that snowmobiling in Finland is seriously good fun and will live long in the memory!

For more Europe in winter content from me, check out Chasing the Northern Lights in Iceland or a Christmas Market in Budapest. If you can’t get enough of snowmobiling content, check out the rest of the WordPress world.