“Well, it’s not raining metal. Yet.” So says our new friend Jussi as we clip into our skis amid driving snow. A headwind is howling and it’s an intimidating and somewhat inauspicious way to start, but Jussi is right. It could be much worse. I am starting to get the jist of Finnish happiness.

Today is our longest day yet, at 70 km, and people seem to be a bit nervous. I know I am. We eat a big breakfast, including Karjalanpiirakka, small savory open faced pies made of rice porridge surrounded by a rye flour crust and baked until slightly browned. They are delicious. Our new friend Tukka sets the standard for a hearty breakfast. He and Jussi are veterans of this event and even longer ski tours (including skiing the length of Finland numerous times, an 1800 km month long adventure). They know what they are doing and I plan to keep them close.

Once we begin skiing, any concerns about the day’s distance slip away and the focus becomes the present. The first couple of hours are on a frozen river, a flat snow blown tundra of a landscape. Thick woods line the river banks and the sky is dark. We get into a pace line and take turns skiing into the wind. It is hard work but remarkable to be moving through this beautiful Arctic landscape using a technology not much changed from hundreds of years ago.

Midmorning, after almost three hours of hard skiing, we get a refueling stop. Harry, our self described Sherpa, meets us at a road crossing with hot water mixed with sweet lingonberry juice, pickles and chocolate malt balls. The guy in the foreground is Klaus, a phenomenal skier from a Swedish family that is practically skiing royalty (Olympians, World Cup winners, etc.). He reminds me of a freight train.

By lunchtime, the weather has cleared up and we arrive in bustling Pelkosenniemi, a riverfront village whose central plaza pays homage to Antti Hulkko. For those not versed in obscure 80’s Finnish punk rock, Antti went by Andy McCoy and was the front man for chart toppers Hanoi Rocks and Pelle Miljoona Oy.

We eat lunch at a gas station. While typically that might not be something to brag about, this was no ordinary gas station spread with squash soup with chicken, brown bread rolls with cheese and cucumber, and sour milk. Delicious.

The afternoon is hard. When you have skied for four hours and have three to go, it’s as much a mental challenge as a physical one. Jussi, Tukka, Jim and I get into a pace line with a Canadian (SW Ontario) woman named Diana and click off the kilometers. Our destination is Pyhätunturi, a downhill and cross country ski village that reminds me of Silver Star B.C. We arrive exhausted but exhilarated and enjoy a cold beer and pre-dinner sandwich, followed by a traditional sauna, dinner, a post-dinner snack and then bedtime.

We wake up the next morning with another 70 km ahead of us. But the sun is out and it promises to be a pretty day.

At breakfast, I discover an amazing culinary invention: Egg butter. It’s one part chopped hard boiled egg and one part butter, all whipped together into a spread that goes on fresh bread. It’s marvellous fuel ahead of a big ski. Especially with pickles on top.

The skiing today is fast and the first 30 km is on groomed track with excellent signage. For those not familiar, cross country skiing is often done on a track created by a large snow cat that sets a perfect track in place, so your skis glide perfectly along. That is not what we have had so far on this adventure, skiing mostly on snowmobile trails through forest and across frozen lakes and rivers. So a groomed trail feels luxurious and fast. So fast that we have time to stop for a coffee at a trail side cafe that features pastries and reindeer soup. Finland is a marvelous and quirky country.

Our reliable guide Harry meets us at a trail crossing in the forest with lunch. Amazingly, he has a delicious creamy soup made with potatoes and smoked salmon sitting in a huge soup pot in the snow. How Harry does it, I have no idea but lunch hits the spot. Harry later reveals his secret via our group WhatsApp.

The afternoon is, once again, hard. The terrain here is flat and we double pole for hours, so my arms, shoulders and chest are tired and start to cramp. The final 20 km takes us across a couple of frozen lakes and onto a frozen river, which we take right into the center of town, not a moment too soon.

We are now four days and about 210 kms into the trip. It’s a neat group of people and we are having fun. It’s a major challenge both physically and mentally but the scenery is exhilarating and the camaraderie inspiring.