Driving Across an Ice Lake in Finland by Simon Heptinstall
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It was late at night, 30 degrees below zero and the dense forest was several feet deep in snow. We were driving at 100 mph along a narrow, twisting ice track a few feet from the tree trunks. A steep hairpin bend suddenly appeared in our headlamps. I reached for the grab handle, closed my eyes and prepared for what must be a certain crash.
It flashed through my mind that tourists in these huge Arctic forests of northern Finland normally take a leisurely coachride to see Father Christmas. Your correspondent from Travel Intelligence, however, was strapped into one of the scariest white-knuckle rides imaginable - a night-time rally in special race-prepared Mini driven by former Monte Carlo champion Rauno Aaltonen. As the tree trunks flew towards us I wondered what hospital staff would say when they found I was keeping warm by wearing my pyjama bottoms under my trousers.
Yet my driver looked unperturbed. He was cheerfully talking about his rally-driving son Tino, who was chasing us through the forest in a similar car. At the last moment Rauno seemed to notice the corner ahead. In a fraction of a second there was a roar of the special-tuned engine and a flick of the steering wheel as he pirouetted the car sideways. I flayed around inside like a rag doll while Rauno's hands were a blur on the steering wheel. The back wheels danced across the ice and we were round the corner, racing off through a cloud of snow dust, Tino's car hard on our heels, Rauno chuckling, me gasping for breath.
For anyone who lived through the sixties, this drive with Rauno was more than just a brief but sensational winter holiday treat. For the man they used to call the 'Flying Finn' was as much a part of that era as Mary Quant and Carnaby Street.
The quietly-spoken Scandinavian had taken a humble little British car called the Mini and thrashed bigger, more powerful cars like Porsches and Saabs to become European Rally Champion in 1965. Rauno's stunning victory for the Union Jack waving BMC team in 1967's Monte Carlo Rally won even more international acclaim. At the finish line, fellow Mini drivers Paddy Hopkirk and Timo Makinen were close behind, in what was then the world's most prestigious motorsport event.
Mini's motorsport success helped it become one of the symbols of that time. Many of today's cars may seem interchangeable, but the Mini had a unique character. It broke down a lot but everyone loved it anyway. 1969's Italian Job couldn't have been made with any other car. Zoom forward 37 years and the old Mini has been replaced by the new, the Aaltonens now run a specialist driving school and today's youngsters have forgotten all about the feats of the Flying Finn.
No-one notices who won the Monte Carlo rally any more - and today's thrillseekers are more likely to head for the end of a bunjee-rope or a paragliding kite than bolting some new spotlights on the front of their Mini and trying to get it up to 60mph down a steep hill.
That's why this three-day trip to Lapland seemed an ideal way to show that the thrills of the sixties were just as exciting as anything that the trendiest extreme sports can dream up today. In fact the night race through the forest must be one of the most memorable ways of scaring yourself yet devised. I confess to several loud "Oh My God!" outbursts en route. When I got out I was unsteady on my feet and as breathless as if I'd run round the circuit.
But the big surprise of the holiday was Rauno and Tino's driving masterclasses out on a frozen lake. It was like a sporty activity break and tuition holiday combined; but rather than a few days learning woodcarving and abseiling, I had a completely hilarious and exhilarating time. And I learnt more about driving than I have in 30 years on the road.
I'd flown across the white expanses of northern Finland to Rovaniemi, the main city in Finland's Lapland region, which is best known as the location of Santa Claus's village. Thousands of British families make short Christmas trips to the out-of-town complex of log cabin shops and Santa attractions.
The town of Rovaniemi itself is a bland concrete fortress against Arctic winters that can see temperatures of minus 54. Surprisingly however there are more things to do here than the average beach resort.
I visited one of several local shops that runs snowmobile and dog sledge expeditions. The prices include being dressed in sturdy specialist clothing to keep out the biting cold. It was 26 below zero. Shop boss Pasi Leinonen shrugged as if that was a mild spring day. He said that at 40 below they cancel their trips because the snowmobiles are difficult to start and if anything happened out on an expedition it could quickly become "very serious".
But it can get even colder: At minus 50 Rauno said cars have to be started in the garage and driven outside very, very slowly "or the tyres pop off the wheels".
Pasi took me on a snowmobile adventure along frozen rivers and wooded hills near Rovaniemi. After a while he asked "Do you want to go faster and do more difficult things?" Why did I nod? I spent the next hour wondering, between heart-stopping descents of icy clefts and high speed slaloms through woods.
Our lunch stop was in an Inuit-style tepee. Pasi and I huddled round a log fire inside and warmed ourselves with hot salmon soup and berry juice. Then it was time to learn how to drive a dog sledge. This was more fun than almost anything I've ever done until I fell off in a deep snowdrift and my dog team disappeared out of sight yelping merrily.
But the greatest hilarity of all was out on the ice, whooping with excitement as I was shown how to control a car skidding round a circuit of cones. "The fun starts when the car is moving in all dimensions at once," laughed Rauno.
In these days of speed cameras, road rage and congestion charges, the freedom of hurling a car round a huge frozen lake was a surprising joy. Learning how to hurtle round a corner sideways was tricky because I was laughing so much, though I think I got there in the end. It was late at night, 30 degrees below zero and the dense forest was several feet deep in snow. We were driving at 100 mph along a narrow, twisting ice track a few feet from the tree trunks. A steep hairpin bend suddenly appeared in our headlamps. I reached for the grab handle, closed my eyes and prepared for what must be a certain crash.
But as for racing through the trees at midnight - I think I'll still leave that to experts like the Flying Finn.