Santa Claus’s office is at Joulumaantie 1, 96930 Arctic Circle. That’s a real
address, by the way, recognised by the Finnish post office. Most of the time
Santa’s not there, but as you read this he’s flat out preparing presents
with his “elves” — teams of postal workers and students.
As many as 400,000 people come to Joulumaantie 1 each year — along with
550,000 letters. It has become the centre of an industry worth millions and
without it this chunk of the frozen north would be propped up by European
Union aid.
But who is the man inside the red outfit and beard who carries so much
responsibility? How does the Finnish government find someone good humoured
and jolly enough? Can you imagine what would happen if Finland’s official
Santa got drunk or, heaven forbid, was abusive to visitors, or worse? To
uncover the true miracle of Christmas — the identity of the saintly man in
the Santa suit — I set off on a 500-mile drive from Helsinki. The road to
Santaland is a long one, and in the middle of winter it’s a daunting
prospect, especially when you come from a country that routinely grinds to a
halt when it gets the lightest dusting of the white stuff.
Here, even in the south of the country, the snow lies from December to March.
Further north it can stay for seven months and the night-time temperature
drops to –30C. If you break down, other motorists stop to see if you’re
okay. This isn’t a place to sit in the darkness waiting a couple of hours
for the AA to arrive.
It’s not just the weather that’s a worry. Fully grown elks weigh more than
half a ton and — quite understandably — prefer to walk the tarmac rather
than plough through the snow between the trees. Hit one and you’re in
trouble: an average of 10 motorists in Finland die each year in elk
collisions.
Further north the reindeer pose an even greater risk because they’re harder to
see, especially during the long hours of winter dusk. In the “greylight”
between day and night they move around like shadows.
For the journey I’d equipped myself with an all-wheel-drive Volvo V70. Now
obviously Jerry from The Good Life drove a Volvo. So did Lovejoy. These are
good reasons not to drive one. However, in the middle of an icy Route 4,
with a large logging truck bearing down on you, you suddenly find comfort in
a very traditional, very safe and very large estate.
Metal studs on the tyres are standard in this part of the world. So is the
normally optional “winter pack” of heated seats and automatic headlight
cleaners. And so is an attitude that is far more respectful of the
conditions: if the weather turns nasty you don’t plough on. You find the
first human settlement and get off the road.
So it was that I stopped at Jamsa, 100 miles north of the capital — forced to
cut short my driving by a blizzard that in 20 minutes put 2in of snow on the
road and cut visibility to a few yards.
I’m sure a few busloads of dancing girls and a new coat of paint could make
Jamsa a swinging city. As it is, it’s typical of the dozens of truckstops in
the vast emptiness of central Finland: the Rock and Roll burger bar was
closed, so was the steak and pizza bar (the one with the big stuffed
reindeer outside) and the Jamsan Portii restaurant. The only place to eat,
in fact, was the Shell garage, where the menu was reheated reindeer sausages
or defrosted pizza (with reindeer meat).
“Do you ever see Santa here?” I asked the lady at the till. She looked at me
as though I were mad. “Are you from Sweden?” she said, shaking her head.
“You should know Santa lives in Lapland.”
There weren’t too many signs of him in Oulu either, my next stop. Oulu is what
passes for bohemian in Finland: Lordi, the gothic-troll heavy metal band
that won this year’s Eurovision song contest, hail from hereabouts, and the
coastal town was host to the 2006 world air guitar championship.
It’s a not surprising that during Finland’s bonechilling winters, when the
suicide rate rises sharply, people want to let their hair down and indulge
in some serious vodka drinking and headbanging. Better that than the slow
torture of Sam Fox songs that provide a musical backdrop in many of
Finland’s shops and restaurants.
The former page three girl — whose main assets were once described by The
Sun’s picture editor as two loosely tethered Zeppelins — had a brief singing
career in Britain before it nosedived. Now she’s the Arctic Fox, as big in
parts of Finland as Abba in Britain. When I arrived in Oulu her forthcoming
concert was the talk of the town. (“You are from England, you must know Sam
Fox? She’s really big here.”) It’s only when you reach the far north that
the landscape turns properly Christmassy — a winter wonderland of pine trees
and sparkling snow. This is the most enjoyable section of the drive, too.
It’s a marvel, really, that there are any surfaced roads here at all, but
they’re beautifully maintained and kept clear by a well organised fleet of
snowploughs. Here, where the population density is 1.5 people per square
kilometre, there’s a sense of space and adventure. There are no bus lanes or
congestion charges or speed cameras: just you and the grey ribbon of tarmac
unwinding into the distance.
Then, without warning, you arrive at the Arctic Circle. Santa’s village near
Rovaniemi straddles the circle and you can step from one side of a painted
line to the other.
In Santa’s grotto are pictures of famous visitors — John Cleese and the Spice
Girls — and you can buy Santa playing cards and golf balls for £1.70. The
place may be a tourist dive but the staff, dressed as Santa’s helpers, are
so friendly it’s impossible not to share their Christmas cheer.
Do they mind listening to God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen 40 times a day? “No,”
said Karen, a student from Lapland. “After a while you don’t hear the songs,
but sometimes you wake at night with them playing in your head.”
Santa wasn’t in his grotto when I got there. The Finnish tourist authority had
arranged for me to meet him and I was directed by his elves to the middle of
a nearby frozen river where he was ice fishing in full costume. Stranger
still, he had driven there in an electric car, a Ligier.
“Well you know my reindeer are in their stable getting ready for their long
journey so I need another way to travel,” he said. “And I’m looking after
the planet for all the young children.” Right. Even on his break he wasn’t
giving away any secrets. I quickly got to the point.
“What’s your real name?” He leant closer as though to confide.
“My full name is Santa Claus, and I am 2,000 years old.”
With that he took off his hat and revealed a full white wig of human hair.
But Santa did confess that he and about 30 other Santas attend a 3½-year
course at Rovaniemi University where their training includes drama,
international culture and languages. Graduates must be able to ask “What
would you like for Christmas?” and “Have you been good?” in 20 languages
including Cantonese and Mandarin.
Luckily, Santa had also learnt something about car maintenance, because when
my Volvo wouldn’t start he knew where to find the fusebox.
“By the way, I’d like a new Lamborghini for Christmas,” I told him when the
engine finally started.
“Ho, ho ho,” he said.
For more information on visiting Finland call 020 7365 2512 or go to www.visitfinland.com
Getting about in Santaland
MACH Z SKI-DOO
What is it? The Mach Z is the Ferrari of snowmobiles. The most
powerful model is capable of speeds of more than 100mph
Powered by Rotax two-stroke 1000cc engine, 170bhp
Cost £7,700
Who makes it? Bombardier Recreational Products, inventor of
the snowmobile, www.ski-doo.com
LEITWOLF SNOW GROOMER
What is it? The caterpillar-tracked Leitwolf is Prinoth’s flagship
snow groomer, designed to flatten snow for smooth skiing. It travels at up
to 14mph and grooms more than 24 acres of snow an hour.
Powered by MAN turbocharged 12.8 litre diesel engine, 435bhp
Cost £255,000
Who makes it? Prinoth, www.prinoth.com
DISTANCE DOG SLED
What is it? The preferred choice of participants in the Yukon Quest,
an annual 1,000-mile race from Whitehorse in the Yukon Territories to
Fairbanks, Alaska. Designed to withstand bumpy trails, the hardy wooden
frame is roomy enough to carry not just your camping gear but even an
injured husky.
Powered by A team of “canine athletes”. Mushing breeds
include alaskan malamutes and siberian huskies
Cost £864
Who makes it? Husky Creek Sleds, www.huskycreeksleds.com
AULIS ALATALO’S REINDEER SLED
What is it? Essential kit not just for Santa Claus but reindeer
herders too. Made from birch, each one measures about 8ft by 4ft and is used
for everything from Easter racing to transporting lavvo, the tents of the
indigenous Sami.
Powered by One to four reindeer
Cost £310
Who makes it? Aulis Alatalo, who lives in Enontekio, Finnish
Lapland, 150 miles north of the Arctic Circle. You can write to him at:
Aulis Alatalo, Enontekio, Finland.
