Cross-country ski trip in northern Finland

2–9 March 2026

Routes: (1) Pyhätunturi – Luosto – Vaiskontie (bus stop); (2) Saariselkä – Luirojärvi – Sokosti mountain – Kakslauttanen; ~300 km in 7 days
map
Routes on the interactive topographic map

This is my third winter trip to northern Finland and second with "backcountry" elements. Last March I followed a linear route from Levi to Äkäslompolo and then north through the Pallas–Yllästunturi national park to Enontekiö, and this time I explore another couple of hilly regions to the east: Pyhä–Luosto (the first national park in Finland) and a larger Urho Kekkosen park near Saariselkä. As before, it's a combination of daytime skiing on prepared tracks while staying at airbnbs in some towns and multi-day tours to more remote backcountry regions, staying in wilderness cabins.

Finland is ideally suited for these activities thanks to a well-maintained network of long-distance ski trails and a large number of open wilderness huts, which are free to use and stocked with firewood. This makes it possible to travel fairly lightweight – I had a less than 10kg backpack with a goose down sleeping bag (rated at 0˚C, i.e. not suitable for staying outdoors in winter), an inflatable mat, a small gas cooker, a thermos, and food supplies for a few days. I also used rather narrow classic style cross-country skis, which are optimized for speedy gliding on groomed tracks (well, relatively: my average speed is 8–10 km/h on distances of several dozen km, while olympic champions take just over 2h for a 50km course), but become challenging in more serious backcountry terrain. By contrast, other hikers I met on these multi-day trips use much sturdier and wider backcountry skis with grip skins, often pull massive sleds (locally known as pulks), and seem to be equipped for at least a few months long expedition to the pole of inaccessibility! Sure, this enables them to be independent of the existing ski trails and stay outside cabins (many of them do this anyway, since their sleeping bags are too warm for indoor sleeping!), but the price to pay is much reduced mobility.. Anyhow, I had my own share of challenges with skiing in the deep snow, but still prefer the lightweight style.

As last year, I stayed at an airbnb for the first two nights, and started the trip with a day-long warm-up loop around the Pyhätunturi fell (local name for treeless hills, somewhat similar to Peak District moors). My airbnb host was a versatile outdoor specialist, at times acting as a ski instructor, a sailboat pilot, or a fishing guide, and we had great conversations about various trips across the world. This region has some downhill ski slopes, but is mostly known domestically rather than internationally (unlike Levi or Ylläs), and is also famous for off-piste skiing (I met a few of these folks on the way). Next day I took the backpack and followed a bunch of prepared trails along the main ridge towards Luosto and further, staying in the Yli-Luosto wilderness hut at the north-west end of this ridge. It seems to be quite often visited in the winter, presumably by snowshoe hikers following the trails on top of the ridge, but it was empty on that night. Next morning, after a few more km, the first part of the trip ended by catching a bus to Saariselkä (a couple of hours to the north).

Saariselkä is a more internationally popular destination (to the extent that most of the bus passengers are Asian tourists and a few remaining are mainland Europeans); it also has a few downhill slopes, but also a bunch of other usual winter activities (snowmobile tours, husky and raindeer sledge rides, etc.). The town felt more touristy indeed, but most of the ~150km of cross-country ski trails around it were only visited by Finnish skiers (the first week of March is the last of three weeks for nation-wide "winter vacations"), and were by no means packed. Here I also stayed at an airbnb for two nights, and made a few loops around the town: the north-west segment was a "nature ski" trail (i.e. single-track, for classic style only) going through and around some very beautiful gorges, particularly Kulmakuru: at this time of year, there is more than 12h of daylight, but the sun still does not rise too high, creating a very dramatic oblique illumination.

Next day I started the last and most challenging part of the journey into the more remote eastern part of the Urho Kekkosen national park. When planning the trip, I read a few reports (listed at the end) for the trails from Saariselkä or nearby Kiilopää up to the Luirojärvi lake and the nearby mountain Sokosti (the highest point of this area, a little over 700m), and these trails were visible on the Strava heatmap, but found nothing about routes further east. So the plan was to make Luirojärvi the furthest destination. As I learned from conversations with other travellers in the huts, there are indeed trails further east, but not everywhere, and it is still not clear how to find them (the only other resource I've been told about is Suunto route planner, but it doesn't show much more than what I already knew).

On the first day, I planned to get to a hut at Lankojärvi, but since it was actually not that far, I dropped the backpack halfway and added a ~25km loop in the Kiilopää region before continuing. It was a bit snowy and windy, but worst of all, got fairly warm in the afternoon (a few degrees above freezing! thankfully, it was not raining, but in these conditions, the grip and glide on the trail become very unpredictable). Nevertheless, it cleared up in the evening, and I was treated to a starry night with some northern lights. The most amazing part of the day, however, was the evening conversation with fellow Finnish skiers in the hut. As usual, we chatted a bit about outdoor experiences, but once they learned that I am an astrophysicist, the discussion took a much more scientific flavour. They asked a lot of interesting questions, one guy in particular had a really deep knowledge about modern developments in astronomy, from biosignatures in exoplanet atmospheres to the Hubble tension, all thanks to watching outreach video podcasts by professional astronomers. I am not sure which of us two was more delighted by this conversation, but it was both exciting and unexpected in the middle of the snowy wilderness!..

Next day was the only one with clear and sunny weather in the entire week, and the one when it was most needed. In a few hours, I got to my next camp – the hut at Luirojärvi, and after a lunch, set off for an expedition to the mighty Sokosti peak. The most challenging part was to get through the forest to the open area above the tree line: there was an old and faint ski trail, but it was clearly made by someone using proper backcountry skis with skins, whereas I had a narrower running skis with a grip wax that didn't really work in this warm weather at all. So the only way of negotiating steeper segments of the trail was a laborious sidestep climb, but the snow around was fluffy and very, very deep (probably well over a metre); even on ski I dived knee deep on each step. After a couple of hours of struggling, I was almost ready to call off the mission, but the trail gradually pulled out of the forest into the open tundra, where the snow is firmer thanks to the wind. From there, the remaining 300m of altitude went quickly, and I was rewarded with great views from the top of the fell (see here for an illustration). And to round up the gorgeous day, there was a wood-fired sauna next to the hut, which I shared with a few fellow hikers from France and Czechia. Just like last year at Hannukuru, a sauna in the middle of wilderness is amazing, and the fluffy snow is just perfect to jump into!..

Now it's time to head back, the next day it started snowing again (which is good, since after the warm days and below-freezing nights, the ski trail is icy and would be very unpleasant without a fresh snow). The trail is mostly in the forest zone, but in a couple of places it crosses open areas or climbs above the tree line. Here the snowdrift is quick to cover any traces of previous skiers (it takes less than an hour to completely erase the visible trail). And the snow around is still deep and fluffy, unlike the last year, when a warmer period before my arrival created a firmer layer beneath the surface, making it possible to walk in almost any direction with relative ease. Now this is out of question: one has to follow the trail, even if it is invisible on the surface! One can feel the firmer snow while standing on the trail, and needs to move in the right direction, constantly poking the snow around with poles to keep track of the hidden trail. And when losing it, immediately launch a lateral search campaign. This reminded me very much the experience of "holding onto the trail" in the bushes of New Zealand, where instead of a deep snow, I was treated to a dense undergrowth around a similarly elusive path. The motion requires full concentration, very differently from a casual glide over a prepared ski trail (I'd say I equally like both experiences). To up the challenge, the cloudy weather and snowfall create such lighting conditions that it is impossible to discern any features in the open landscape – the slope can only be felt by moving feet, but not visually, and at one point, I found myself almost stepping over a snow cornice of a few metres high (would've been fun to fall off it; I knew that there are no high cliffs on my way, but a small trench was indeed unexpected). And then a group of hikers appeared "out of the white" ahead of me, finally bringing the trail-finding exercise to a close. It was fun, after all!

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