Life coach Aoife Leggett’s ski adventure through the Arctic wilderness …
Misogi is the word that comes to mind when I think of my magical trip to Finland with my mum and aunt. In Japanese culture, misogi refers to a “cleansing challenge”. Something that strips you back, tests you, and ultimately renews you.
We were walking back to our accommodation after five nights of skiing hut to hut through Kiilopää National Park. We had covered close to 80km, pulling everything we needed behind us in sleds. Food, sleeping bags, layers of clothing, all our essentials. No power, no phone signal, no showers and no escape, for six full days. Just us, the snow and a silence that felt sacred.
Everyone quite literally pulled their weight. It felt like the kind of adventure few people attempt, but one you remember for the rest of your life if you do.
My mum, who turned 70 last year, suddenly stopped, turned to me and said, “I didn’t think I’d make it out alive. I thought I’d die on this trip.” She had been unusually quiet for at least two weeks before we left for Finland, which is always a sign of deep worry with her.
Aghast, I laughed. “Mum, why did you agree to come then?”
Her answer said everything about her zest for life. “I thought, ah, at least I’ll go out on a high.”
We burst out laughing and hugged. She added, “Champagne’s on me tonight. I think.” She is not a big drinker, so that was an indication of how momentous the achievement felt. Minutes later, I overheard her on the phone to my dad, telling him it was the best trip she had ever been on, the best thing she had ever done.
As your parents get older, you begin to see that time with them is no longer the limitless luxury your younger self assumed it would always be. This trip was a dream for that reason and so many more. The memories with my mum and aunt, the beauty and peace we found in the wilderness, the bonds we formed with the five others in our group, and the quiet pride that came from doing something so challenging together. Everyone quite literally pulled their weight. It felt like the kind of adventure few people attempt, but one you remember for the rest of your life if you do.
The seed for this journey was planted five years ago. I had just moved home after a break-up that left me starting over again, having walked away from my house, my job and my relationship. One evening, I stumbled across a post on Instagram about a backcountry ski trip in Kiilopää National Park in Finland. I remember thinking how much I’d love to go, but I had only just returned from trekking the Inca Trail. Another adventure wasn’t realistic.
Life moved on, as it does. Work, weddings, other trips. The idea faded until my best friend Emma announced she was hiking Kilimanjaro. The adventure spark reignited, I briefly considered joining them but knew, deep down, that I crave quiet, peaceful expeditions far from crowds and big tours. So I revisited the idea of Finland. And thought, if not now, then when.
As is typical for me, I decided I would go whether anyone joined or not. But if one of my nearest and dearest wanted to come, all the better. I asked my mum. She swims in the sea year round, adores the outdoors and has never once refused a challenge. She decided she needed strength in numbers, asked my aunt Jane, and suddenly there were three of us.
A work booking meant delaying the trip for a few weeks, until February, which turned out to be a blessing. We met the most amazing people, and were guided by the wonderfully warm and always chirpy Charly. Charly’s work ethic was relentless. He was first up every morning at 7am, last to bed, and always on during the day, whether guiding, cooking, apportioning tasks, or providing the craic. The later date of departure also meant we experienced more daylight than we would have had in January, when the sun does not rise until 11am and disappears again by 1pm, with temperatures dropping to around -20. Our timing felt perfect.
Then came the kit. No one wants to be cold in the wilderness, it can ruin everything. You can’t wash your clothes or shower for six days, so your gear must be reliable, preferably base layers in odour-resistant merino wool, for everyone’s sake. I needed a proper down jacket – the team in The Great Outdoors on George’s Street helped me choose something warm enough for the conditions. My mum and aunt took the pre-trip shopping slightly further. To be fair, I have worn my jacket almost daily this winter and my mum uses something from her haul every single day.
Getting to Kiilopää was not straightforward. We flew to Rovaniemi, spent a night there, then travelled three hours by bus to Kiilopää. The company we booked with encourages low-carbon travel and donates one per cent of revenue to climate charities. We had one night to ourselves before meeting the group for a safety briefing.
The sports centre at Kiilopää National Park, which was to be our base, was simple but had everything we needed, including an authentic Finnish wood-fired sauna with a natural ice-cold plunge pool and a small gym. When we reached the group cabin for the briefing, I was handed a plastic bag containing a roll of toilet paper and a box of matches, labelled in bold marker: AOIFE’S POO BAG. To this day I still do not know what the matches were for. Thankfully, I made excellent use of the compostable toilets at the huts, along with the occasional nature wee.
After a morning spent packing our sleds, we set off for the entrance of the national park. The first part of the route followed regular cross-country tracks. We skied on backcountry cross-country skis, wider and fitted with skins, designed for climbing, descending, and cutting across untouched terrain. As we approached the peak of the fell, the wind picked up and visibility faded, adding drama and a huge belt of nerves to the moment we dropped properly into the wild. No signal. No turning back. We climbed over the top of the fell and dropped into the wilderness beyond.
Our first stop was one of the beautiful day huts scattered throughout the park. Each hut has a small stove, a bench, and a table, offering shelter in bad weather. Rangers keep the woodsheds stocked, and the mountain rule is simple. Leave the hut ready for the next person who might desperately need warmth. Logs stacked. Fire set. Everything prepared.
We would sleep in wilderness huts. All had basic amenities: a gas bottle, a tworing cooker, a stove, buckets for water, a table and bench and, along the back wall, two platforms with wooden slats allowing eight people to sleep side by side. The huts were divided in two, with one half bookable and the other kept for drop-ins. The rule for the non-reservable side is simple: the last person to arrive gets the bed, regardless of who is already there. For that reason, some people bring tents and camp beside the huts. Each hut is located beside a stream for water and has a compostable toilet and a woodshed. Rangers maintain them, though there is a shovel provided for replacing wood chippings and other necessary tasks. The cabin at our midpoint also had a sauna and a water tank with a heater which we lit, providing an incredible burst of warmth, and a wash, after three days of skiing.
Day two was our hardest ski day, with long inclines. Each group pulled a sled, and the pulling was meant to be shared. Mum had previously had a rough experience cross-country skiing while visiting her slightly mad brother in France. She was nervous, so she declared on day one, “I’m not pulling that.” Jane and I took over, and I did not mind. It added to the physical challenge and we set out ready for the climbing. Charly, a mountain leader with endless knowledge of animals, trees, and the history of the park, shared beautiful insights about the land and its wildlife as we moved through it.
Our meals were hearty, and after a day of skiing absolutely everything tasted delicious. Rye bread cheese sandwiches and soup for lunch, chickpea curries, rainbow trout with noodles, and a dessert each night. Lunch prep and clean-up were shared and done by the light of head torches as we swapped stories from our lives. A few bottles of Mintu and Baileys added a little extra kick to nighttime hot chocolate and board games.
We saw the northern lights on two nights, skied across a frozen lake, had many falls, and cried with laughter, including at one famous moment, when a man from a neighbouring cabin came in to ours looking for his lost trousers after the sauna. Wearing only a green jacket, he opened the door and asked, “Has anyone seen my trousers?” I, unfortunately, or fortunately, missed the spectacle but returned to find the group crying with laughter. His line echoed through the group for the rest of the trip.
Our final night back in civilisation included a trip to the smoke sauna, dinner at the sports lodge restaurant, a real bed, and bubbles, courtesy of Mum. If you love nature, raw adventure, and journeys where you earn every meal and moment of comfort, Finland’s wilderness offers beauty and peace unmatched by anything I have experienced before or since. This was a trip of a lifetime with my mum – a misogi worth remembering. @aoifeleggettcoach
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