A Ski Trip at the Edge of the World

Family ski trip to an island, campfire moments, and dense winter fog

Last weekend, we headed to our cottage on Lake Päijänne with a car full of skis and poles. We arrived Friday night, and on Saturday we set off skiing to the island.

First, my partner and 9yo went walking out onto the ice to drill a few holes and check that the ice was thick enough. Currents can be tricky. The ice, however, was about 20 cm thick at each test hole.

The younger kids skied on the cottage shore while we adults were still packing. So 3yo didn’t have the energy to ski by the time we left. That was fine — she got to sit in the pulk (a Nordic sled for carrying children and gear) on a sheepskin and enjoy the scenery.

In the morning, I had been worrying that we probably wouldn’t see any sun all day. The sky and snow were the same shade of gray. Yet, once we got properly moving, my mood changed. The day was, in its own way, really beautiful and special.

5yo skied quickly at first and couldn’t wait for the rest of us, but once we caught up to her, the situation reversed: we had to wait for her. She kept stopping to reflect on how we had been paddleboarding in the same spots during the summer.

I completely understand — it feels amazing to think that I was in the same spot on the water with soft waves around me in the summer, and now I was standing in the same place on a hard surface on skis.

We reached the shore of the island. On our right was small Moss Island, where we’ve taken small trips throughout the summer, both in my son’s boat and on paddleboards. But we turned left, behind a larger island.

Our plan was to reach the rocky spot and fire pit on the far side, where we had stayed overnight and taken day trips in the summer. We’ve named the island Mother’s Day Island because we first visited it on Mother’s Day. That time, we made a cake there and explored the island.

We stopped to admire the icicles formed under a large shoreline rock. I literally ran aground on my skis. A few rocks were just barely above the ice surface, hidden under the snow. I skied straight into them and fell.

From the other side of the island, a beautiful, eerie sight revealed itself. Little Swan Island rose like a quiet sentinel against the endless white. Like the last place on earth, untouched and still. The final stop for humankind, a place where those who leave pause for a moment of rest before continuing their journey into eternity.

We reached the fire pit on Mother’s Day Island. We climbed from the ice onto the land, and my partner immediately started building a fire. The fire spot is simple, just a few stones around it. The kids watched with curiosity as he used a fire steel to start the fire.

We had hot chocolate (of course, it’s a must for a winter ski trip!), meatballs, Karelian pasties and cinnamon rolls. We made cowboy coffee, which is made with just water, coffee, and a coffee pot over a campfire. You can start it as soon as the fire is lit, even directly on the burning logs or you can hang it with a thick stick.

Cowboy coffee tastes like pure magic. You know how everything somehow tastes better outdoors? This isn’t just that. The landscape and the weather add their own special flavors to the coffee. It never tastes the same twice, and sometimes it’s so good that when you remember the trip, that particular cup of coffee comes to mind as well.

Cowboy coffee

I don’t measure anything myself. I let the water boil and then add the coffee grounds — better a bit too much than too little. I put the pot back on the fire, and once it boils, I take it off.

The coffee needs to be shocked by tapping the pot. You can do this however you like. I usually tap the pot gently against a rock or a piece of wood. Then we wait a moment for the grounds to settle at the bottom. You can pour a little out before filling your cup, so the grounds left in the spout don’t end up in the coffee.

We returned along the other side of the island. 5yo moved along quite slowly, and 3yo fell asleep in the pulk. 9yo could have easily skied a much longer distance.

On the horizon, three rounded stretches of the mainland were visible. Each one was wrapped in fog to a different degree — the farthest barely visible, the middle one a little clearer, and the closest standing out the most. Taking pictures in this kind of weather was an experience of its own. The photos could be almost completely white, except for the dark outline of the shoreline.

At the end, there’s also a photo of some ice fishers, who turned out to be the only other people on the ice besides us.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This last one seems to have lost them somewhere in the snow.

Thank you for skiing along! ♡

🌿 GROW WILD IN FOREST SOIL 🌿

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