Page 201 - WDT INTERACTIVE

hotels, and a slew of souvenir shops, at best I might net
Snowmobile riders prepare to set off
across a hilltop in Saariselkä, Finland
as the sun begins to set.
a haul of reindeer magnets, plush polar bears which roar
when you press their belly, and a few sticks of salted
licorice (a coveted local specialty, but perhaps not worth
being sentenced to years wearing an orange jumpsuit).
Abandoning my criminal reverie, I direct my attention
back to Niskala, who is explaining how to steer, acceler-
ate, brake, and---perhaps most importantly---operate the
hand-warmer. With one last word of warning---“Try not
to kill anyone”---we’re off!
I feel like an Ewok, flying through the sugar-dusted
forest past snow-pregnant pines, many bent double,
as if praying on their knees for an early spring. As we
approach a vast, windy hilltop, the trees disappear,
replaced by an otherworldly moonscape. The terrain is
barren and unrelentingly white, tinged with long, purple
shadows cast by the setting sun. Then, as if on cue,
Niskala announces, “The reindeer are coming.”
Sure enough, a few hundred yards away, Donner and
Blitzen and their posse are teetering over the horizon.
Spotting us, the herd stands stock-still, frozen (probably
literally) in place. As the rest keep a wary watch on us,
the lead reindeer suddenly plunges her head deep into
the snow, like an ostrich. “She’s digging for moss to eat,”
our guide tells us. And here I was thinking that reindeer
subsisted on a diet of candy canes and Christmas
cookies.
I’ll have an opportunity to meet these critters up close
and personal before the week’s out, but first, I plan to try
my hand at husky-sledding. We hear the dogs, baying
as if for blood, long before we reach the farm 12 miles
away. After a few quick instructions---lean left to steer
left, lean right to steer right, break by pressing down on
the serrated metal blade at the back of the sled---we
pair off two-by-two. My friend takes a seat while I man
the reins, following our guide, who leads the pack on a
snowmobile.
Our dogs, unlike the others, aren’t particularly
bothered about speed. They trot along contentedly,
nipping at the snow and barely breaking stride as they
answer nature’s call. Easy peasy, I think, until I notice
a tree perilously close on our right. Desperately, I shift
all my weight to the left…but the dogs make a beeline
for it as though it’s the last fire hydrant on earth. In the
blink of an eye and a bump of the sled, I find myself
being dragged along behind, clinging helplessly to the
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