Rovaniemi Memory Lane
Rovaniemi, Finland, April 2023
I walked the same path up to the hill called Ounasvaara, yet the sun was still above the horizon after eight in the evening, the snow has melted, and the trees showed greenery and were painted orange by the last rays of the sun. The dark sky, the frozen forest, and the raging snowstorm were nowhere to be found.
It seemed that ice and snow froze and held time, and once you left and came back after four seasons have passed, the warmth of the sun already melted the snow and released time, drastically accelerating the pace of change and making everything you were familiar with somehow unrecognizable. You felt in awe once more, just like when you first saw the humbling frozen world.
Gallery & Notes
At twilight, from the top of Näköalatorni (observation tower on Ounasvaara), you could see Kemijoki stretching to the horizon. On the east (left side) was the forest on the hill, and on the west were city lights, which lit up the sky together with the setting sun. More cities have been booming in the far north, and even though challenges of development still exist with all the remoteness and cold, modernization has brought these cities new blood and stories in different ways since the last century. // Back in that deep winter, the steps of Näköalatorni were all frozen and slippery, and the top was even more freezing with the wind. Näköalatorni is very special to me. We ran up the snowy hill on New Year’s Eve of 2021 having no direction, yet somehow saw the light from the bonfire giving us hope. We got there at exactly 12:00am. Then I saw northern lights for the first time in my life, at the very beginning of 2022, lighting up the sky with the fireworks.
One day last year in February, I was in the forest of Ounasvaara alone at midnight, moving wood to the bonfire to keep myself warm in deep winter. This time I met a German family traveling here and a Rovaniemi local. The mom of the family was really kind and shared some marshmallow with us. The local was amazed by a picture I took on the observation tower and saved it on his phone. "I have a car," said the local as he offered me a ride back to city center in the end knowing how far it was to walk there from my hostel. A kind act that reminds me of last year, when a local saw me lost on the snow-covered highway and drove me to my appointment at the optician's.
Some traditional Finnish houses could be seen outside the window of Florian's car as he drove us to Bruce's house for dinner (where I also cooked a reindeer dish as the main course). Yellow, red, and blue, the signature colors. // Florian, a professor at the Arctic Centre and also Bruce's friend, was someone that I only had a few conversations and interactions with but inspired me deeply every time as he told me stories. Both Bruce and Florian went to many places in the far north had epic stories, just like what the most experienced and wise nomads would tell you as you sit with them by the fireplace. Florian has profound experiences living with the Indigenous communities in the Russian far north (Yamal Peninsula) and has also worked with documentary crews. His car was old but big, perfect for traversing the Arctic.
Karu, one of Bruce's two lovely Lapphunds, looked at me on the porch. Bruce is my amazing mentor and dear friend; every time in Finland, Bruce would invite me to his beautiful Finnish house in the snowy forest of Sinettä and have delicious dinner with his family and sometimes his friends as well. Cozy and wonderfully decorated, the house always gives me a feeling of family, love, and warmth.
It looked like a wooden playground hanging high up among the trees on the way up to the top of Ounasvaara. There were no stairs or ropes - I still wonder how people would get up there, especially in winter. This unique and fascinating playground caught my attention back in the winter as well.
Mural could be hard to find in Rovaniemi, yet in this unknown street, I saw some beautiful drawings on a seemingly abandoned building about the northern way of life: snowmobiles, reindeer sledding, traditional Sami clothing, the intimacy with nature, etc.
This is the top of Ounasvaara at sunset, when the clouds were pink and surreal. While I was living in a student dorm on Kuntotie ("-tie": "street" in Finnish) in winter 2022, I would often go to Ounasvaara late at night for a little solo hike since it was really close by. Whether it was clear, cloudy, or a large and endless snowfall, I always enjoyed the precious alone time, being in the middle of the forest with nobody around me. I had honest conversations with myself and also heard nature’s wise words. It was a very spiritual experience. One time I accidentally hiked to the top of Ounasvaara and stood in awe and happiness as I saw the sparse households on the other side of the hill extending to the hills from afar, the yellow lights glimmering under a pitch black sky. // Spring 2023. I saw the view from the top of Ounasvaara, for the first time in daylight. A year felt like forever; even though what actually changed was just one season, time seemed to pass so fast and changes seemed to be so dramatic after you left this place that you previously thought was timeless. The frozen time slipped away as the ice and snow melted, I guess.
The boy on the bike reminds me of those days when I rode my mountain bike every day - to the Arctic Centre and back, and to many adventures in the area. One day I felt energetic and biked to the North across the Arctic Circle and back. Another day I biked around Salmijärvi ("järvi": "lake" in Finnish). Growing up in cities, it was quite a drastic change to spend most of the night barely seeing anybody on the roads. // However, I do vividly remember one time when I fell off the bike as I tried to avoid a car and the tripped on an icy bump as I hit the brake, and came across a local who kindly helped me fix my chains. He wished me a good weekend. It is always the people and their kindness that warm you up in the remote far north.
I ran up this hill chasing sunset. The same hill I would bike up to chase aurora borealis late at night.
Snow melted from the spruce trees, and the sky was full of colors. Last year in winter, it would have already been dark.
This is what you will see on the east side of Kemijoki looking to the west. The river was still frozen in early April, even though it was obviously thinning, and the spruce trees were not covered by snow anymore. Back in that winter I would bike across the bridge every day, for almost three months. I remember pushing my bike through it in snowstorms as the bike always got stuck in new snow. Whenever I got back to my apartment, my cheeks would always be red and I would be still sniffling. The room was always warm and cozy though. I loved it.
There are many snow-covered trails in Ounasvaara that cross each other. Back in winter I would bring a flashlight or use my own phone to light up the path ahead of me. I had never walked on those paths in daylight before until this revisit. In winter, the paths was full of the unknown (which brought extreme excitement and sometime pleasant surprises), but also danger. I do vividly remember how I fell off my bike while going down an icy section, how I almost got stuck by accidentally falling in knee-deep snow, and also the two hospital visits as I had both cracked and swollen skin from being exposed to extremely low temperatures for hours without wearing enough layers. Did it hurt? Yes. Would I do it again? Absolutely - but this time with more layers. Not the girl from the tropics who were put in the hard mode for her first experience of a real winter anymore. Learned my lesson the hard way.
Accidentally captured the flying sparks in a fun way.