Up to your knees in snow

(Photos of the diary entry can be found at the end of the text).

Click here for the podcasts!




Link to the current itinerary

(For more posts click on one of the flags in the map

“The Arctic Circle,” says Tanja a little later, pointing to a snow-covered sign. “Shall we pay another visit to the Arctic Circle Center?” I ask, because we were there a good two months ago. “Sure, why not. It certainly looks interesting in winter,” replies Tanja. Only minutes later, we turn left to reach the now completely deserted igloo-like building of the Arctic Circle Center. The access road and the large parking lot in front of the building are covered in a thick layer of snow. Careful not to hit any boundary posts or concrete pillars hidden under the snow, we drive up to the building, which lies at the magical latitude of 66°33′ N and is visited by hundreds of tourists in summer. Now, however, we are here alone. Of course, what would you want in these weather conditions in a place like this, where there is nothing but snow and barren landscape? “Come on Ajaci, let’s go for a walk,” Tanja asks our dog to leave the Terra. On our short hike up the hill next to the futuristic building, we sink up to our knees in snow. Huuiii, icy gusts of wind sweep across the barren land. Ice crystals needle our faces.

Although the thermometer, here at an altitude of around 680 meters, only shows minus five degrees, we quickly get cold. The chill factor makes it feel like at least minus ten degrees. In September, the tundra vegetation with its dwarf shrubs, mosses and lichens appears in a reddish-yellow autumnal blaze of color, but by the end of November the cold-resistant plant carpet is covered with an all-encompassing white layer. We trudge through the fjell (field), looking down to the Arctic Circle Center, which now has to wait at least half a year to be visited by travelers again. It is now 13:45. The sun is currently setting on a mountain ridge and will bid farewell to this hemisphere in 30 minutes at the latest. In the last golden rays of the day, we trudge back down to our mobile home. Frozen, I try to insert the key into the cabin door. “Go on, my fingers will soon freeze off,” Tanja urges me to hurry. In the rush, the key falls out of my hand and disappears in the deep snow. “Shit!” I curse indignantly. I carefully feel for it, but can’t grasp anything apart from the cold snow. “He’s gone!” I say and suddenly realize how hot I feel. “What? Please don’t make jokes.” “No joking. He’s gone.” “Don’t panic. He can’t be far away,” Tanja tries to reassure me in a trembling voice. “Where’s the spare key?” I ask. “I think we left it in the Terra,” Tanja replies, becoming increasingly nervous as she searches for it in her jacket pockets. “There he is,” we say at almost the same time as I pull my key out of the snow and Tanja pulls hers out of her jacket pocket. “Phew, how quickly you can get into a dicey situation,” I say thoughtfully, stepping into the comfortably warm cabin. “Yes, unbelievable,” Tanja replies, taking off her jacket and rubbing her hands together. “Shall we stay here overnight? We have enough space,” she asks. “Hm, I don’t know. We’ve only covered 35 kilometers so far. I think we should drive for a few more hours to cover some distance,” I think. “Then we’ll be out in the dark, but I agree with you,” Tanja replies, whereupon we leave the interesting place.