At 37 km, our penultimate day is the second shortest of the tour. It is a climb to the Sweden Norway border, taking us across the top of Torneträsk lake, past the famous Lapporten (Lapponian Gate) valley and up to the mountain pass separating the two countries. Having done multiple 70 and 80 km days thus far, how hard can 37 km be? Very hard. In fact, easily the most challenging day of the tour. Stepping outside the lodge at Abisko National Park, it is apparent that we will be skiing into a fierce and biting headwind. The same wind that yesterday was at our backs and made us feel like heroes is now howling in our faces. As we ski down to the frozen lake, we see a covey of ptarmigan, with full white plumage, sheltering from the wind. We disregard their example and push on, which either speaks to our determination or our intelligence relative to small ground fowl. Torneträsk lake is huge, 70 km long, and the wind comes down from the mountain range separating Norway and Sweden and whips across the lake. We ski 10 km with heads down, directly into the wind, making very slow progress. My cheeks and nose are numb from the cold.

After 10 km, we climb off the lake and towards the pass. The fresh snow is ankle deep, very dry and fine, which causes our skis to slip out from underneath us as we climb. It is frustratingly hard and slow and my cheeks and nose feel raw from the cold.

As I push slowly into the wind, I think about the concept of sisu. Sisu is a Finnish word that means inner strength, perseverance, and determination. It can also be translated as grit, bravery, resilience, and hardiness. It’s not just momentary courage, but the ability to sustain courage, hour after hour and day after day. It’s the ability to commit fully to your dreams and face challenges with unwavering resolve. I dig deep and try to find my sisu reservoir.

Five hours in, Lapporten emerges into view, the Gate to Lapland shrouded in white clouds.

Eventually, I see Riksgränsen, a small border town under snowy peaks with a small train station, downhill ski lift and collection of cabins and hostels. Riksgränsen is among the few places in the world where one can ski in the midnight sun. From late May to mid July, the midnight sun bathes northern Sweden in constant daylight and the snow here typically lasts well into July.

As I near the village, a man skis by me pulling a “pulka” or sled. He smiles and asks in perfect English, “Have you skied from Russia?” I am astonished and answer yes, to which he offers a hearty congratulations. I must look really tired if it is obvious I have skied from Russia, but as I push through the final climb, I well up with emotion at being able to answer his question affirmatively. This has been a hell of a challenge and I can see Norway just meters ahead.

I find Jim at the hostel. He reassuringly tells me that he also found it to be the hardest day of the tour and we compare notes on the day while wolfing down sandwiches. Our faces are chapped from the wind.

A sauna, a lot of water and a smoked reindeer pizza and I am revived.

The following day is our  last. At breakfast, I enjoy a croissant with Nutella because my window of burning 5,000 calories a day and being able to justify a breakfast dessert course is coming to a close.

We ski from our hostel to the Norwegian border. It’s not far, but in typical fashion the wind is whipping and heavy snow is falling. We’ve crossed Finland and Sweden and the fjords of Norway are just down the hill.

We shuttle down to Ankenes for our final ski of the trip, a steep climb up the side of a mountain with majestic views of the Oforfjord surrounding Narvik.

Appropriately, a couple of hearty Finns take a celebratory plunge in the fjord.

It’s bittersweet to take off our skis. We have covered so much ground as a group, struggling together, teaching and encouraging each other, and laughing a lot. We have grown close, as happens with intense shared experiences.

We share a final dinner together, everyone happy to be together and to be done. Our guide presides over a small ceremony, calling our names one by one, presenting diplomas, shaking hands and offering words of praise. Everyone claps and cheers as each name is read. It’s sincere and celebratory and a fitting way to end the trip.