A Finnish Winter Wonderland

Kakslauttanen Arctic Resort epitomises the ideals of a winter wonderland. Snow-frosted trees, log cabins, open fire-places, reindeers, horses and brandy hot-chocolates. Meanwhile, the sub-freezing temperatures, remote geographic location and the necessity for at least 4 layers renders it a little more real, but in an arctic exploration kind of way. Think, Scott of the Antartic meets His Dark Materials meets Frozen – a mix of a fear of getting frostbite and totally magical, impossible to imagine scenery.

Kakslauttanen is located in the Finnish Arctic Circle, with the nearest airport being Ivalo. It is an isolated destination, and those heading north tend to either to be tourists in search of the Northern Lights, or people heading to visit their rural roots. Northern Finland is sparse: expanses of snow-topped trees punctuate a bright white sky. This white cloud is of course not conducive to Aurora spotting, but it does create a mystical blueish hue, in which it is easy to get lost, both physically and mentally.

As arctic-explorer as I felt, Kakslauttanen is actually a well-managed resort, not a frozen wilderness. There is a well-stocked pantry, a restaurant, bar and a small gift shop on site. You can book to have a ‘fire-service’ come by your cabin each evening to stock up the logs and a cleaning service come by during the day whilst you’re at your various activities. Make no mistake, this is “adventuring” at its most luxurious.

If you’d prefer a more independent experience, renting a car may be a way forward. You can park by the cabin, utilise the kitchen area and have bigger flexibility to come and go. There is little to no public transport in the area: once you arrive at the resort, you are there for the duration, unless you invest in taxis.

The log cabins are particularly cozy, particularly with the log fire and the wooden furniture fittings, and the red bedding and rocking chair creating a rather Mr & Mrs Claus feel. It is the epitome winter warmth. While the yuletide atmosphere of the cabins is enticing, the whole draw of Kakslauttanen is the glass igloos. Being able to sleep under the Arctic stars, with the potential of witnessing the Northern Lights, or gaze out into the tall snow-laden woodland is a Romantic notion, and absolutely unmissable.

In addition to the accommodation, Kakslauttanen offers a plethora of activities: from the more active, explorer-like expeditions, to the more relaxed ventures into the landscape. We opted for a mixture: Aurora hunting in the evening, by way of horse-drawn sleigh or reindeer-pulled sled, and husky safaris, horse-riding and snow-mobiling in the day. With each endeavour including a hot drink – normally the Finnish speciality “Glogg” – and informative chats with tour guides, these trips offer combine the allurement to the beauty of the natural setting with an education on the local Suomi way of life. The activities are an insight into Finnish culture, although through the very tourist-oriented lens.

With a restaurant on-site, food is offered for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The food draws on local specialities as well as what is available from the local area: particularly ligonberries, reindeer, venison, soup, potatoes and plenty of pickled vegetable options. The bar offers a good drinks menu, with cocktails, liqueur, wine and beer – the firm favourite for me being the brandy and whipped cream hot chocolate.

The restaurant is fine, however they often only had one option for dinner (perhaps because we visited in the off-season), and after a couple of nights we fancied a bit more of a variety. We settled on a place in the local town, Teerenpesä in Saariselka, described as a ‘restaurant, pub and nightclub’. With this juxtaposition of categories, it was hard to know what we were getting ourselves into.

But, funnily enough, it was exactly what the website said. With a dancefloor and soft green lighting on one side of the rustic-looking bar, and a fire-lit restaurant with fishing memorabilia on the walls on the other. The only other table taken was by a an older, weather beaten man with a thick woollen jumper eating the Finnish specialty of Poronkäristys (sautéed reindeer, mashed potato and lingonberry sauce). Despite this strange, but intriguing, set-up – the food was actually delicious, and very impressive, absolutely surpassing our expectations. If ever we are back in the area, and looking for an evening of gastropub dining followed by all-night dancing, I’m sure we’ll return.

Kakslauttanen is an instagram-location of dreams, it is a resort certainly designed with tourists in mind but with the aim of providing an authentic Lappish experience. The location is breathtaking, and I was absolutely living my Princess Anna dreams. Certainly a trip of a lifetime.


All pictures are my own unless otherwise credited. Permission must be obtained before any reproduction and credit must be issued in any reproduction.


Trapped Literary Spectres: the Best of Victorian Gothic

Nobody does ghost stories quite like the Victorians. Perhaps it’s because death infiltrated every aspect of Victorian life: people died at home, they were buried in over-flowing graveyards, disease was rife, putrescence was prevalent, grave-digging was real and public mourning was ritual. I consider the Victorians as a society to have a much more intimate understanding of death than we will ever have.

But the aptitude of nineteenth-century authors to flourish in capturing everything sinister, supernatural and suspenseful could also be down to the rise of the Gothic. The growth and popularity of Gothic architecture and Gothic literature in the 1800s went hand in hand. It is best to clarify that Gothic architecture originated in the middle ages: think medieval cathedrals, spires, rose windows, flying buttresses, gargoyles – the works. This architectural style came back in fashion in the late 1700s and was retitled High Victorian Gothic, or Gothic Revival. Enter contemporary buildings in the medieval Gothic style: Strawberry Hill House (1749) and the Houses of Parliament (1835), amongst others.

Another layer to add to this context is the growth of the urban space. Cities were where social realms collided. Poverty-stricken slums backed on to aristocratic townhouses, crime flourished and diseases spread while petticoated-women ambled through Regent’s Park. The city was the underbelly, and the manifestation of all the upper classes’s irrational fears came to fruition: sickness, filth and crime – quite literarally all just around the corner.

Combine all three – proximity to death, Gothic revival and urban anxieties – however, and the elements that constitute an unparalleled ghost story come together: death, suspense, superstition, fear. It’s the perfect concoction.

Below are listed my favourite tales of the nineteenth century, from short stories to poems, these tales trap spectres on the page and allow readers to delight in the supernatural suspense over and over again.


1 Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë (1847)

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you—haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”


2 Turn of the Screw, Henry James (1898)

There had been a moment when I believed I recognized, faint and far, the cry of a child; there had been another when I found myself just consciously starting as at the passage, before my door, of a light footstep. But these fancies were not marked enough not to be thrown off, and it is only in the light, or the gloom, I should rather say, of other and subsequent matters that they now come back to me.



3 The Old Nurses Story, Elizabeth Gaskell (1852)

I turned towards the long, narrow windows, and there, sure enough, I saw a little girl, less than my Miss Rosamond dressed all unfit to be out-of-doors such a bitter night – crying, and beating against the windowpanes, as if she wanted to be let in. She seemed to sob and wail, till Miss Rosamond could bear it no longer, and was flying to the door to open it, when, all of a sudden, and close upon us, the great organ pealed out so loud and thundering, it fairly made me tremble; and all the more, when I remembered me that, even in the stillness of that dead-cold weather, I had heard no sound of little battering hands upon the window-glass, although the Phantom Child had seemed to put forth all its force; and, although I had seen it wail and cry, no faintest touch of sound had fallen upon my ears.


4 Thrawn Janet, Robert Louis Stevenson (1881)

By this time the foot was comin’ through the passage for the door; he could hear a hand skirt alang the wa’, as if the fearsome thing was feelin’ for its way.  The saughs tossed an’ maned thegether, a lang sigh cam’ ower the hills, the flame o’ the can’le was blawn aboot; an’ there stood the corp of Thrawn Janet, wi’ her grogram goun an’ her black mutch, wi’ the heid aye upon the shouther, an’ the girn still upon the face o’t—leevin’, ye wad hae said—deid, as Mr. Soulis weel kenned—upon the threshold o’ the manse.”



5 A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens (1843)

“The bells ceased as they had begun, together. They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine-merchant’s cellar. Scrooge then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains.”


6 Ghosts, Emily Dickinson (1924)

One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.

Far safer, of a midnight meeting
External ghost,
Than an interior confronting
That whiter host.

Far safer through an Abbey gallop,
The stones achase,
Than, moonless, one’s own self encounter
In lonesome place.

Ourself, behind ourself concealed,
Should startle most;
Assassin, hid in our apartment,
Be horror’s least.

The prudent carries a revolver,
He bolts the door,
O’erlooking a superior spectre
More near.


All pictures are my own unless otherwise credited. Permission must be obtained before any reproduction and credit must be issued in any reproduction.