'Reindeers don’t like people' – and other things we learned on a family holiday to Finnish Lapland

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of Father Christmas. Defying the laws of physics by being simultaneously everywhere for one night of the year is a pretty awesome super-power, after all. A grown man squeezing down my chimney? Brilliant, and in no way a security risk. Reindeer-powered flight? The future of aviation, almost certainly. Stuffing socks with gifts, asking whether I’ve been a “good little boy”, the white beard, the ho-ho-hos: all part of the wonder of growing up. 

The idea of going to visit him, though, has never particularly appealed. Plenty of families do it each year; he’s the major draw to Finnish Lapland, with Rovaniemi on the Arctic Circle (“the official hometown of Father Christmas”) luring more than 300,000 visitors annually. Christmas-themed packages deliver childish delight in abundance, from sleigh rides to ice hotels, as well as that all-important audience with the big man himself.

All wonderful of course, and now’s your last chance to book, but the festive season always seems frantic enough to me without throwing a three-night mini-break to the frozen North into the mix. Besides, as my children get older, a trip to see Father Christmas appears increasingly less necessary. (After all, he’s almost certainly due to visit us on the evening of the 24th, so why complicate matters?)

At the same time, the idea of experiencing Lapland’s winter wonderland without the festive glitter is now rather alluring. My sons, aged 14 and 12, are husky-mad for a start, and have often expressed a desire to try cross-country skiing, a Lappish speciality. For my own part, zipping across a frozen lake on a snowmobile sounds pretty exciting, and even snowshoeing feels like one of those life-skills not to be overlooked. 

This is why, last Easter, we found ourselves heading towards the ski resort of Kittila, 90 miles north of Rovaniemi and 75 miles inside the Arctic Circle (but still some 1,500 miles from the North Pole, where Father Christmas used to hang out before the Finns got their hands on him).

There are benefits to a late-season arrival in Lapland. The crowds are long gone, for a start. At Easter, the Lappish days are considerably longer than in December (when there are only about four hours of daylight) while the average temperature is a balmy 28F (-2C), as opposed to 10F (-12C). 

And there was still plenty of snow around during our visit. On the hour-long transfer to our hotel we witnessed a land clad in white: the stuff was piled high at the side of the road, packed on to roof tops and spread beneath the pine trees, which spiked the landscape like stubble on a giant’s chin. There was even a brief flurry – a snowstorm in April! – before we arrived at our destination: Hotel Harriniva, on the shore of the River Muonio, which marks the border between Finland and Sweden.

The Harriniva is essentially a pumped-up bunkhouse that makes the most of its rural setting by providing access to all sorts of family-friendly winter activities. The rather graceless car park at the front aside, it’s an endearing sort of place, designed for those with a can-do sensibility. There’s an airy dining room where guests, exhausted from the day’s activities, devour ample set menus, and a modest bar which doubles as a briefing room at busier times of year, plus a gift shop that goes big on reindeer-based trinkets. The wood-lined bedrooms are sturdy and comfortable rather than chic and sophisticated – and all the better for it, given the likely context of your stay. Our family suite came complete with a sauna, and the boys immediately seized the opportunity to steam themselves beetroot before running straight into the snow outside, wild with excitement and clad only in their underpants.

This turned out to be standard-issue enthusiasm on our long weekend in Lapland. Later that first evening, dressed rather more appropriately in ski jackets and scarves, we set out for a stroll northwards on the partially frozen river. Yet even this simple outing saw them rushing to locate a sledge, throwing snowballs and collapsing with laughter as they plunged neck-deep into drifts. Then they clambered up on to the bridge over to Sweden, racing each other to see who could be the first to visit a new country. 

It wasn’t as if they had never seen snow before. More that the sheer heft of the winter landscape, the stillness of the night and the distant yapping of huskies had conspired to make everything that little bit more magical than usual. Santa’s influence, no doubt.

We’d travelled with tour operator Activities Abroad, which offers a “pick and mix” package where a range of individual activities can be added to the cost of flights and accommodation. First up the next morning was a visit to the local reindeer farm, but not before we’d been dressed in Harriniva’s winter gear: boiler suits, gloves, big boots and snoods. “Now you look like proper tourists,” giggled the receptionist as we headed outside. 

The reindeer briefing was fairly simple: don’t startle them, don’t annoy them, don’t – whatever you do – pat them. Reindeers don’t like people much, we were told, which can cause problems with young Disney fans intent on stroking a real-life Rudolph. We dutifully avoided eye contact while two reindeers called Visa and Orebo pulled us round a frozen lake at a surprisingly brisk place (apparently a tourist-toting reindeer is worth around £27,000, which is considerably more than the price of a snowmobile). 

Afterwards the boys – newly prepared to be dazzled by everything – were thrilled about being allowed to feed Visa and Orebo some moss, which is about the only thing reindeers do like. We all gamely had a go at reindeer-lassoing (using a discarded antler as a prop), then had lunch of stew and blueberry juice in a nearby log cabin, where our guide, Darren, revealed that his wife spent much of the winter as an elf, part of Father Christmas’s vast contingent of human helpers. Making childish dreams come true was a stressful business, he said. The pressure to get it perfect was huge.  

But perfect happens pretty regularly round here, with or without the national elf service. Take the “husky night adventure”: an inky sky, a cacophony of barking dogs, then the sudden silence as the sledges crackled off into the gloom, the huskies tearing to get ahead as we scored a route over frozen lakes and through hidden paths in dark woods. At the end you can pet the pooches (who have names like Buddha and Ironman), which makes a nice change from the grumpy reindeer. 

And it’s not just children who find this sort of thing utterly wonderful. The 25-year-old French tourist who was part of our group had spent the early part of the evening complaining about not being allowed on a snowmobile because he’d forgotten his driver’s licence, but later blurted almost tearfully: “In my life, that is the best experience so far.”  

For the rest of our trip our guide was Toini, a no-nonsense, non-stop Finn. As I’d remembered my driver’s licence, she took us on a snowmobile trail across to the Harriniva’s sister property, the Hotel Jeris, a journey notable mostly for my elder son’s continual demands that we maintain a faster speed than necessary at all times (thankfully under-18s have to travel as passengers). 

Toini took us snowshoeing, too, in the Pallas-Yllastunturi National Park: a far more peaceful way of getting around, as you are suddenly transformed into the human equivalent of an off-road vehicle, able to get at parts of the forest normal walkers can’t reach.

However, the single best moment from a parental point of view occurred during our cross-country skiing session. I’d managed pretty well, adjusting to the slender skis and the swing and glide technique on a two-and-a-half mile loop from the hotel. But the boys worked it out instantly, racing off as fast as they could. And Toini, suddenly, was impressed: “No family I’ve taken on this route has ever done this as fast as you,” she said. “We shall do the loop again.” 

Quite frankly, that sort of praise is worth any number of Christmas presents. Sorry we missed you, Santa, but we had a great time round at your place – and you’re welcome to visit us whenever you like.

The essentials

Ben Ross travelled with Activities Abroad on the three-night Harriniva Activity Pick and Mix trip to Finnish Lapland. With departures from January 7 - April 18 2018, prices start from £915 per adult and £815 per child (aged 5-12) including return flights (London), transfers, half-board hotel accommodation, cold weather clothing and expert guides. A programme of chargeable activities includes Northern Lights excursions, husky and reindeer safaris, snowmobiling, ice fishing, cross-country skiing, snowshoeing and more.

For more tips on visiting Father Christmas, see telegraph.co.uk/tt-father-christmas-trip.