The Evil Snowmobile continued.

After swapping snowmobiles twice (the second one overheated - not my fault, I promise), we were back on our way. We travelled for another good hour or so, and I thought we must be almost back at our starting point, because considering all the delays and the poor snow quality, we were never going to make the Snow Village and back again within the 5-7 hours they said the trip would take.

Imagine my surprise when at 2:30 pm, we checked in at the Snow Village. That means we were only halfway- and I had no feeling in my right thumb from the accelerator. The guide saids that in normal conditions (and with no fuckheads in the group), they would normally be back at the starting point by 3pm.

Now B will be bitchy and ask why my thumb was sore when I never accelerated, but please ignore her. It is a stated fact that people over 6 ft, with receding hairlines, weird second toes and gigantic craniums battle with snowmobiling.

We had a simple late lunch of fish soup (which was a relief as we were worried that they may sneak in reindeer) and then we walked around the Snow Village, with B taking beautiful pictures, me pondering my impending doom on the trip home, the Brits asking if they could travel by themselves. Apparently someone had irritated them....... I'm not sure who that was.

The snow hotel had many rooms, all designed differently with beautiful sculptures in the beds and walls. It wasn't a 100% complete yet, and we almost killed ourselves slipping on the icy floors, even with our snow boots on. Hopefully when they're done, they put something on the floors, as it would be a death trap for old people with dodgy hips.























The trip home was much less eventful, even though it was now pitch-dark. Visibility was really poor as it had started snowing really hard, and impossible to see out of the helmets' visors as a result. I had become very cautious, often finding myself well behind the group, with B yelling at me to grow a pair, but at least I was not killing trees nor myself.

We arrived back at 6:30pm, 9 hours after we set out, and it took about 15 minutes for me to be able to extricate my cramped thumb off the throttle. Our guide walked off, saying something to his colleague that made small children nearby start crying. I think it might have been some Finnish swear words about me.

I wasn't a big fan of the trip, but B was a machine on the snowmobiles, and she loved every minute of it. The harder the trip became, the more uphills and downhills, and the worse the visibility became, the more she seemed to enjoy herself - crazy wench. Quite the explorer and adrenaline junkie she turned out to be - makes life damn interesting.


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