Short story: Northern Soul

Snowy landscapes and northern lights were all very well, but this trip wasn’t meeting expectations

Gazing at the mounds of blindingly white snow around her, perforated by pine trees and pathways compacted hard by the tread of boots and runners of sleds, Julia started to wonder why on earth she had chosen to come to such a cold, unforgiving place.

‘In fact,’ she ruminated, ‘this isn’t just cold.’

This was unlike anything she’d experienced before: the endless, dark sky, the bitter, icy air, the sense of emptiness.

Despite wearing more layers than a millefeuille, she was frozen to the bone, the wind whipping away her body heat in an instant, leaving her feeling numb.

It had all seemed so magical a year ago when she’d started planning her trip to the folkloric home of Santa Claus, Ivalo (even the name of the place sounded enchanting). It had been on her bucket list for years. She’d almost forgotten how many times she’d leafed through brochures, spent hours browsing the internet, fantasising about exhilarating husky trekking through the forests, curling up with hot chocolate at the end of the day and wrapping up to go out in search of the elusive northern lights.

Of course, she hadn’t planned to be alone. This was a trip she’d talked about endlessly with

Alexa. They’d compiled their

Lapland to-do list together.

Even now, she could recall

Alexa reeling off her list: ‘We’ll do a reindeer sleigh ride, then we’ll experience a real

Finnish sauna and run out and roll in the snow naked!’ she’d laughed. Julia blushed at the memory.

‘The next day, we can do a snowmobile safari, then we’ll go ice fishing. Oh, and the auroras, of course! We need to make sure we’re always looking up at night-time…’

The pair had first met as strangers in their 20s, having both rented rooms in a large house share. Julia was quiet, conservative and mild-mannered, while Alexa came with a personality as big as her heart. Despite the size of the house, her roaring laughter could often be heard reverberating around it. Yet she was inclined to small acts of thoughtfulness – leaving a chocolate muffin and a jar of bath salts at Julia’s door after she’d had a hard day, or cancelling her plans to go out when Julia was sick.

The two women had bonded over a love of travel and adventure, and their friendship had been unwavering ever since, surviving house moves, job changes, divorce and kids.

It had been two years since Alexa first started to feel unwell and exhausted all the time. Then there had been the unexplained pains.

‘It’s just old age,’ Alexa had joked, although Julia wasn’t convinced, and insisted Alexa go to the doctor.

Then, one day, sickness took her from Julia’s life, leaving a chasm that was too deep to be filled and still too raw to be soothed.

Now, here she was by herself, her cheeks red raw against the biting gusts of Arctic wind, gasping for lungfuls of air as she struggled along the icy trail to the meeting point.

She’d booked the dogsled ride that had initially been Alexa’s idea, and the anticipation was the only thing keeping her going as she trudged along. Even though she’d begun to feel congested and achy a few days before she flew, nothing would stop her from making it onto the sled.

As she grew closer to the large hut in the centre of the village, she knew she must be in the right place. The howls of impatient dogs were increasingly audible, echoing across the barren sky.

‘They’re just as keen as

I am to go racing across the countryside,’ she thought.

It lifted her spirits and, for a moment, her fuzzy head and heavy cough took a backseat in her mind.

Joining a crowd of tourists and heading into the hut, Julia began to pull on, over her own coat, an all-in-one insulated suit.

‘This is far too big for me, she thought. ‘I look ridiculous, and it doesn’t fasten up properly at the bottom. It’s missing a press stud. Alexa would be laughing herself silly at me right now. I can almost hear her chuckles.

She always was the more positive one.’

All around her, there was a clatter of people also struggling to get into suits,

It had all seemed so magical when she’d started planning it

bumping into each other, knocking over boots and dropping their phones.

‘It’s all starting to feel a lot less magical,’ thought Julia. And that was before she’d even tried to wrestle on the musty boots they’d given her to wear! Even as she put them on, she could feel that they weren’t going to be as warm and comfy as her own.

The group began to filter outside, and Julia followed. As they waited for the dogsled trainer to emerge from the hut, she watched the younger members of the group taking selfies and giggling while she stood apart, sniffling to herself. She was about to go back inside, having started to feel shivery, when the trainer appeared.

‘Right, everyone, gather round,’ he barked. ‘You need to learn how to control the sleds or the dogs will run for hours. Make sure you hold onto the reins tightly, like this,’ and he proceeded to wrap them around his gloved hands. ‘You’ll also need to familiarise yourself with the brake pedal on the sled – and don’t take your foot off it until you’re ready to start off again. OK? Let’s go!’

Beginning to shiver uncontrollably, Julia put up her hand.

‘Could I just go inside and get a different pair of boots?’ she asked. ‘I’m cold.’

‘Why do you need different boots?’ shouted the trainer. ‘We all have the same. In all my time here, I’ve never known anyone to want their own special footwear. What did you expect in the Arctic? Balmy breezes?’ he laughed.

The group set off to meet the dogs. They turned the corner and entered the kennels. Julia’s face fell once again. She’d been expecting fluffy, white-and-grey huskies; these were scrawny hounds, growling and whining. And the noise of their yelping was deafening.

Sitting herself on a rickety sled, covered with a reindeer skin that was more compacted snow than fur, Julia wondered if coming here had been a mistake.

Was there time to get off?

Before she had a chance to rethink, however, they were off, the dogs pulling at the reins with the sort of strength she would never have expected from such slender creatures. Her sled hurtled along, throwing up clumps of hard snow at her face, the dogs panting and the piercing sound of the wind whistling in her ears.

Struggling to breathe, holding onto the reins as tightly as she could every time the sled went over a bump or careened around a bend, Julia wished she was somewhere else.

As they reached open countryside, the scenery grew more both beautiful and unbearably cold. Not even the sparkling trees, boughs straining under heavy drifts of snow, could distract her from the pain in her throat. Julia shifted her position and suddenly realised that she couldn’t feel either of her feet. Starting to panic, one thought echoed in her mind: ‘I’m going to lose a toe!’

After what seemed like hours, the caravan of sleds pulled back into the kennel area. Leaping off, Julia raced back to the hut as fast as her frozen feet would allow her, tearing off the boots and peeling off her cold, damp socks to thaw her toes.

Finally, after a fraught few minutes, she felt them begin to move. ‘Alexa would have laughed at me for this, too,’ she thought.

Feeling miserable and coughing heavily, Julia could only reflect that her holiday wasn’t living up to expectation.

Heading back to her log cabin – with the memory of Alexa’s insistence that they choose this option over a hotel (‘Just think how lovely it will be with an open fire burning’) – Julia resolved to spend the evening in with a book instead of venturing back out into the cold. After taking off all her outdoor layers, she lit the fire that had thrilled Alexa so much.

As the logs began to hiss and crackle, Julia searched through her luggage. Thankfully, after some rummaging, she found what she’d been looking for – the remaining sachet of cold-and-flu powders.

‘That’s one good thing,’ she said to herself. ‘The day is finally starting to look up.’

She made the drink, but, rather than heading to bed, went to sit beneath the building’s domed, glass-roof section. This was something that Alexa had marvelled at, too. Curved like the top of an igloo, with hexagons of glass glinting, the clear roof meant she was able to gaze at the night sky without leaving the snug cabin.

She switched the main lights off and settled in with her mug, wrapping herself up in a thick, soft blanket. Even when she remembered this moment years later, she couldn’t say what had made her look up at that exact moment – but, instinctively, she had. What had been pitch-black was illuminated with a glorious ripple of luminosity – bright white, tinged with emerald green; a swirl of iridescence lighting up the sky and glowing with mesmerising brilliance. It was as magical as Alexa had imagined it would be, its seemingly preternatural gleam leaving Julia unable to tear her eyes away.

Suddenly, nothing else mattered – not the cold, not the coughing or the loss of her dearest friend. The well of tangible joy rising inside her was overwhelming.

Just for a moment, Julia felt Alexa sitting beside her, and warmth spread through her, radiating from her chest right down to her toes. They had, after all, planned this trip together. She was not alone.

What had been pitch-black was illuminated with a glorious ripple of luminosity