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NORDIC ROADTRIP

Europe's Arctic Frontier

By Nick Gates

March 31^st, 2019

A trip to the wild...

Finland. A country with more saunas than cars, which is probably why it's one of the happiest countries in the world. Importantly for me, it is also the most sparsely populated country in the European Union, making it an ideal place to go searching for great wildlife in epic wilderness.

What's the world's toughest carnivore?

There are a few contenders. Tasmanian devils have the toughest bite force per bodyweight of any animal. Polar bears are capable of hunting whales. Siberian tigers thrive in, well, Siberia. But I have always been fascinated by wolverines, a real animal that most people first learn about as the name of a Marvel character. These stocky mustelids are the Northern Hemisphere's answer to the honey badger; seriously feisty, wickedly determined and capable of holding their own against all challengers. To add to their charm, they are the largest mustelid in Europe, and are capable of taking down an adult reindeer. Not an animal to be messed with.

And my good friend Ben (www.ben-macdonald.co.uk) and I really wanted to see one. So we set off on an adventure.

A tough place to survive

In winter, their home freezes solid. The mercury rarely gets up to zero. Yet with oversized paws and a thick coat, they strut around as if the freezing winds barely register. I on the other hand layered up with almost every bit of warm clothing I owned. Double thermals were essential. Despite heading for an insulated hide near the Russian border, the cold here was like nothing I'd felt before.

There are a range of great companies who offer the chance of seeing a wolverine at a baited hide, but after plotting out our route we decided to chose one of Lassi Rautiainen's. He runs a company called Wildlife Safaris Finland - and specialises in large carnivores. His hides are superb, and Lassi and his team put in an awful lot of effort to ensure they're well stocked up with food across the winter to help out the local scavengers. Of course, this means that it isn't just wolverines making the most of the banquet...

As soon as we arrived, we saw our first apex carnivore. It wasn't on four legs but instead scattered about 30 ravens as it flew by. White-tailed eagles are one of the most impressive flying birds you'll see, and a first sighting of this bird is unforgettable. They are truly enormous, with a wingspan that can approach 2.5 metres and over half a metre deep; it is no wonder they are frequently nicknamed 'flying barn doors'. Yet despite their imposing presence, they are not top bird in these parts - as we saw when a young golden eagle flew in and in turn scattered the adult white-tailed eagle from its perch.

This dynamic between the two North European eagle species is similar to that seen if you've spent time observing golden and white-tailed eagles interacting in the Hebrides, with the Haliaeetus always waiting for the Aquila to finish up or move on before approaching.

There is no love lost between these two giants, and the young goldie took great delight in antagonising its larger cousin, buzzing it frequently to remind the bigger eagle who was 'Top Gun' round these parts. The white-tail in turn buzzed the ravens, before eventually retreating to a distance that didn't attract too much attention.

And then, it happened. Whilst we were distracted by the eagle showdown, a wolverine had been confidently making its way along the treeline on our far left, which we spotted as it broke cover, nose held-high scenting the air as it beelined for the carcass. Every few dozen steps it would stop and backtrack, sniffing the snow, perhaps picking up a trace of some piece of meat it had once buried nearby.

THOSE. FEET! It made walking through the snow look like an art form, strutting and bouncing off the fresh powder as if it were walking on solid tarmac. My efforts to walk through the same were met with shin-deep cavities, yet here was a creature who couldn't have been more at home in this landscape. Once it saw the ravens and eagles around the carcass, its leisurely tree-edge stroll turned into a purposeful gait, which gave way to a wolverine canter as it ran straight into the other scavengers.

Heat haze: photographers beware!

As you can probably see from the above images, which were all taken on a Nikon D800 paired with a Sigma 150-500, the heat haze was extreme. A combination of a low-angle hide, frozen ground and a sunny day made for a heat differential that was like shooting through opaque glass. This didn't detract from what was a phenomenal experience, but if your goal is trophy shots, then perhaps chat with Lassi about the best hide timings and conditions to try and reduce this as much as possible.

Across the session, we ended up seeing two and possibly three different wolverines, which all took the same route in from stage left and then carried a bit of meat back into the forest, likely to be cached for a rainier day. We also had at least five different eagles visit across the day and more ravens than we could count.

This hide also has a good chance of wolf, and we saw fresh tracks on our drive back to the lodgings. In season, it is also excellent for brown bears. We purposefully chose this time of year (March) to ensure that the bears wouldn't be visiting, upping our chances of the wolverines staying for longer.

Grouseland!

Red squirrels

Sadly, we had scheduled just the one overnight at this lodge but on getting back to the camp we took an hour to enjoy time with the local red squirrels that were regular visitors to the feeders here. These have got to be one of the Northern Hemisphere's most loved species, with their characteristic ear tufts particularly prominent now they had their full winter coats on.

Finnish forest reindeer

With our first stop of the trip a resounding success, we packed the car and headed north. Our first target was a patch of forest where the last of Finland's truly wild reindeer can be found. Unlike the domesticated reindeer herds of the north, these wild reindeer strongly prefer to spend time in dense boreal forest, rather than open tundra - making finding them somewhat tricky. They are also still locally migratory, spending time both sides of the border. You can find out a bit more about these wild reindeer here: https://www.luke.fi/en/natural-resources/game-and-hunting/finnish-forest-reindeer/

"According to the most recent surveys, there are approximately 2,200–2,300 wild forest reindeers in Finland."

Unfortunately, despite finding trails, we didn't come across them passing through this time. Jens Krause has provided a helpful report of his efforts to spot them here: https://www.mammalwatching.com/2019/09/05/new-trip-report-forest-reindeer-kuhmo-finland/

The area to the east of Kuhmo and up to the Russian border seems to be a favoured patch of forest. Though we didn't connect with them on this trip, carefully driving these roads did deliver first a willow grouse whizzing low through the trees and then another one of Finland's secretive species, a bird we were particularly keen to spot: the hazel grouse.

With this fast becoming a red-letter day, despite the lack of wild reindeer, it was time to get off the ice roads and back onto the main road to continue north.

With all the lakes frozen, we'd frequently be crossing them on temporary 'winter roads' that are installed each winter.

Red Letter Day Confirmed!

We were heading for a pit stop near Kaamanen, and there was just one long road, the E63, all the way there. Every so often we'd pass another feeding group of black grouse in the tree tops, with the occasional capercaillie too. It got to the point where we didn't stop for them, just slowed down as we passed, enjoying every sighting of these giant grouse.

With the light just starting to fade, we rounded a long bend and in the distance, very close to the side of the road, we saw a large bird sitting on some low scrub. We both pointed at it and said "caper", then revised that to "eagle?" as we got nearer, before practically shouting in excitement as said bird transfigured into its final form "GREAT GREY OWL!!!"

There are few species more enigmatic than a great grey owl. Even for seasoned birders, this is a species that no one will pass up an opportunity to see, and here was one affording stunning views to us on the side of the road. I know people who have paid hundreds of pounds to be guided to see these rare creatures. Even in prime habitat they are still a very low density species. We had just struck natural history gold, yet there was still better to come. As the owl relocated from watching the margin for prey to a nearby tree line, we spotted a second great grey; presumably the partner of the first. We enjoyed about 20 minutes with them as they patiently worked the boundary of a scrubby field, before they retreated over behind the tree line to continue their dusk meal-search.

It is testament to the community-spirit and good nature of the Finnish people that in the time that we were watching these owls, no fewer than three passing cars (i.e. almost every passing car...) stopped to check if we were OK. No one gets left stranded here, the risks of hypothermia are too high, so everyone has everyone else's back. I like that. I've come across similar in the Hebrides. And so we continued our travels north, heading for the Kaamasen Kievari guesthouse. This was a lovely lodgings: good food, a comfy bed and friendly smiles, the ideal pit stop.

By morning, the car was well frozen again.

Arctic avian rarities

After a warm breakfast, and armed with freshly-filled flasks, we continued north for our next stop. Tuulen Tupa is an extraordinary place. A small hotel run by nature lovers, the honesty box on the wall with a sign for 'bird food contributions' doesn't do justice to what they have hiding round the corner. For this is paradise for winter birds. In a cold landscape, where only the specialists eek out a living, finding Tuulen Tupa must seem like an oasis for the dozens of small birds using the myriad feeders here. All topped up with a whole smörgåsbord of goodies, from seeds to suet cakes, peanuts to fat balls.

House sparrows, willow tits, coal tits, great tits, blue tits, greenfinches and bramblings were joined by birding royalty: Siberian tits, pine grosbeaks and Siberian jays.

Siberian tit was high on our target list of species to see. Their diminutive size and subtle presence can make them a tough find, even at the reliable sites, so we had a few pins lined up at which to try and see them. They're also rapidly declining across much of their range, particularly as their northerly haunts become increasingly habitable to their bullish southern cousins - great tits and blue tits.

“Ecologists in Folldal, Hedmark, Norway found that the Siberian tits accounted for only 1% of all tit individuals in lichen-dominated pine forest in 2011 as opposed to 64% in 1982.”

The Siberian jay was another species we were very keen to connect with. The smallest of the Western Palearctic corvids, their subtle colouration can make them harder to spot in the vegetation. However, it turns out that if you're in the right place, they can be incredibly obliging. I have friends in Sweden who regularly hand feed their local Siberian jays, and with equal intelligence to our own Eurasian jays, the birds learn individual humans and know which to trust (/which conjure up food!). These jays are strictly monogamous, holding onto the same territory for life. Interestingly, these birds will collect scarce nesting material such as reindeer fur over the winter, and cache it ready for nest-building in March.

The final instalment of the Boreal Forest Passerine Trilogy is, in my opinion, one of the prettiest birds in the Western Palearctic: the pine grosbeak. With exquisite sexual dimorphism between male and females, these huge finches are unmistakeable when viewed feeding in the snow. Females are a deep olive-yellow on the head and breast, fading to grey moving towards the tail. Males have a rose-red head and back, with black and white barred wings, and a black tail. They're an unusual species, occupying their own genus, Pinicola. Broadly resembling a crossbill, they are in fact most closely related to the bullfinch.

Varanger

With some of the prettiest and rarest boreal forest species seen, we carried on up the E63 to our next destination: Norway! Our targets up here were equally specific: hawk owl, gyrfalcon, King eider, Steller's eider and the world-renowned 'seabird city' of Hornøya.

Hawk owls are the Arctic's answer to kestrels. Diurnal small prey specialists, they particularly like hunting rodents. Sitting on prominent perches, they'll patiently scan the landscape looking for the giveaway signs that a vole is working under the snow. This makes the birch-clad rolling valleys north of Tana Bru an excellent place to look for them. Driving north up to Vestertana proved a very successful way of finding these pocket-sized owls.

Our first sighting of this species was perched atop a pylon on the side of the road just north of Tana Bru, showing how at home they are around human-shaped landscapes. It was quite content to watch (/glare... well, death stare) as we got out of the car to photograph it, clearly not seeing us as any threat.

As we left town however, heading north into more remote areas, the available perching sites for the owls to scan from were all replaced by trees. This actually made it easier to spot them, as any unfamiliar shape perched high in the spindly leafless branches was very distinctive. A few turned out to be hooded crows but driving around we soon learnt their distinctive silhouette.

We also found a bonus pair of white-tailed eagles perched atop a snowy ridge in the Tana Valley.

In one afternoon we came across no fewer than four different hawk owls; a spectacular density of these fierce-eyed hunters.

As we were driving back down the valley, we were looking at the ice-covered bays and discussing whether or not Eurasian otters could survive this far north. The water quality appeared to be very good and judging by the numbers of diving ducks, auks and other seabirds that lived here, were clearly full of fish too. I know Eurasian otters can survive in very cold conditions as I've watched them hunting in icy lakes in the Somerset Levels, and they thrive on the Shetlands and Hebrides. Unlike other marine mammals such as seals, otters carry very little body fat which means they have to feed regularly to avoid catching hypothermia.

We found ourselves discussing otters for a while as we kept an eye out for further hawk owls, eagles, and any other creatures of note. And then, as we rounded a bend to reveal a shallow, ice-rimmed bay, there, sitting on the edge of the ice enjoying a recently caught meal, was an otter! Though about 500 metres away, contrasting with such white surroundings it was an immediately unmistakeable silhouette. Having subsequently studied a range map of the species, it was exciting to find that the Varanger population is the most northerly of Lutra lutra in the whole world! And as my favourite mammal, a delightful and unexpected treat for the trip.

With far-better views of hawk owls than we could have hoped for secured, plus bonus eagles and otter, we headed back via the E75 for our overnight accomodation in Vadsø - a good base for this whole area in winter. The road between Varangerbotn and Vadsø is an excellent place to pickup reindeer and (more) white-tailed eagles on land, and seaducks out on the water.

The following day we explored more along the E75, checking all the bays and working through the huge rafts of eider that were present all along this sheltered coastline. The majority were common eider but there were good numbers of Steller's eider in the harbours at Vadsø, and the odd small party of King eider too.

King eider drake. I didn't capture a good shot of the King, so I've borrowed a picture from a previous trip

There were also smaller groups of long-tailed duck encountered quite frequently, looking stunning in their winter plumage. In small rafts of one to ten individuals, they'd frequently disappear under the water to feed, usually in sync causing you to double take the spot you'd just been watching as they all vanished!

Svartnes

Travelling to the easternmost tip of Varanger takes you to Svartnes. The large sheltered harbour here is a superb place to look for interesting Western Palearctic gulls, thanks to the seafood factory with its outlet into the harbour. This draws in good numbers of glaucous gulls and is one of the best places in the region (perhaps due to search bias) in which ivory gulls are spotted every few years. It's a really good opportunity to see every plumage of glaucous alongside some of our more familiar gulls.

As you enter Vartnes, you can't miss the very clear signs to the large tunnel under the sea across to Vardø - the gateway to Hornøya. Vardø is a surprisingly pretty town, clearly completely shaped around its fishing industry heritage but offering a good range of food and accommodation options for tourists. It is also apparently the kittiwake capital* of Varanger, with some parts of town hosting nests on every available ledge.

(*unofficial...)

The town is still a working fishing port, though some bits don't appear to be in use anymore

The Kittiwake Capital

Purple sandpipers

The rocky point at the gateway to Vardø harbour, and the seaweed strewn small beach in Vadsø harbour both proved to be top spots for picking up close views of confiding purple sandpipers. These are entertaining little birds to watch as they work their way over the rocks and seaweed, turning over anything that might be hiding a tasty invertebrate to snack on.

Hornøya

Having made it to Vardø, we could see our next destination for the trip across the water. Hornøya has a formidable island as one of the most spectacular seabird cities in Europe. Home to a dazzling cast including the rare Brunnich's guillemot, a stunning shag colony, ravens on the tops and about 80,000 seabirds - it is a simply unforgettable experience. Boat tickets are available from the inconspicuous harbour office (Vardø Havn located here) situated on the north east side of the harbour.

"Situated as far north as Point Barrow, Alaska and further east than Istanbul and Cairo; Hornøya is the last piece of Norwegian soil before the vast expanse of the Barents Sea."

First impressions were somewhat excitable..!

March also sees the return of Atlantic puffins which spend their time tustling in the snow in anticipation of it melting to reveal their favoured nesting burrows. At the very base of the cliffs, shags with the opposite temperament sit serenely, posing for photographs from the daily visits by keen naturalists.

White-tailed eagles and gyrfalcons offer daily flybys, causing the whole cliff-face to 'fall of' as thousands of alcids pour off the rocks and into the air in a chaos of noise and wingbeats. Spotting gyrs in the carnage can be difficult - as we found as we failed to do so despite two full-scale seabird city panics.

The number and density of guillemots is extraordinary.

Whilst the vast majority of the auks are common guillemots (including many of the bridled form), with a few razorbills, if you scan carefully you'll come across the odd small cluster of Brünnich's guillemots - as in the lower half of this photo:

"...flight costs for [common guillemots] (Uria lomvia), which are wing-propelled divers (...) are the highest recorded for vertebrates."

Interestingly, flightlessness has evolved at least five different times in seabirds. Perhaps most well known amongst penguins in the Southern Hemisphere, in the Northern Hemisphere it was just one seabird, the great auk, that evolved this trait. An all too familiar tale, this species is yet another tragic example of a creature confined to extinction almost as soon as it was described.

But there is another bird in the North Atlantic that may be on its way to flightlessness. A study published in 2013 compares various different species and showed how wings evolved for excellent diving ability are extremely inefficient for flight. And the least efficient flyer of all? It appears that the common guillemot is as close as it's possible to be before becoming flightless. You can find out more in this fascinating paper.

Back to Hornøya. I cannot impress how immersive an experience standing below the rocks here was. To try and give some sense of the density of birds, I left my camera videoing an empty patch of sky:

Sadly (or fortunately judging by the increasingly pale colour of my hands), the return ferry to the mainland appeared at its scheduled hourly slot and it was time for us to head back.

The ferry across to Hornoya has a cabin to protect visitors from the weather.

The Aurora Borealis

One goal for all Nordic travellers is to experience the Northern Lights. If you're keen to see these for yourself and are new to knowing how to predict them, then here's a quick overview:

The most important thing to be aware of is that the appearance of the aurora depends on the activity of the sun. If there are large solar flares happening, there is a good chance that the requisite conditions will be present for the aurora to form. This is because auroras are the result of disturbances to charged particles in the atmosphere caused by solar wind. When these charged particles are ionised, they emit light. This solar activity is rated using a scale known as The Kp Index. You can find out more about it here: http://www.aurora-service.eu/aurora-school/all-about-the-kp-index/
Depending on where you are in the Northern (or Southern) Hemisphere, your odds of seeing the Lights will increase the further north (or south) you travel. So when you get to your destination, search for what the Kp number is for where you are staying (e.g. for much of Varanger the Kp is around 1.5, whilst for Iceland it is 2-3 and for Shetland it is 4.5). This Kp number for a given location never changes.
What does change however, is the Kp forecast each night, which dictates your chances of seeing the aurora. If you're in Shetland, on a clear night, and the Kp forecast is 6 - there's a very good chance you'll get an excellent showing. However, if you're in Shetland, and the Kp forecast is 3 - you're unlikely to see anything there, but in Varanger (as long as there aren't clouds) - you'll likely get a strong showing.
The easiest way to monitor all this is to download one of the aurora tracker apps onto your phone, and set it up so that it automatically alerts you when the conditions are looking promising for your given location. I used an app called 'Aurora', and it was absolutely spot on. Helpfully, it offers both a short range and long range forecast for upcoming predicted Kp, so you can tailor where you stay based on the probability of a good aurora showing.

Once you're setup, it's then just a waiting game. Fortunately, on one of our nights in Varanger, we had a small solar storm forecast, with a predicted Kp of 4. Given our location, we just needed clear conditions, and to stay awake, and the odds were in our favour to get an excellent showing.

So we prepped. Early food, flasks filled, batteries charged, and waited. Sunset was about 5pm. As it got dark, we could see on the Kp tracker that the aurora activity was approaching. By 7pm, we were driving out to what we thought would be a good spot. A little light pollution from the nearby town as a backdrop, but that could work. It was so cold we resorted to sitting in the car, constantly scanning for any hint of charged protons pinging their light energy our way. By 9pm, our faith in the apps began to wear off. According to all the data, we were sitting underneath a solar storm, with a hotspot of auroral activity overhead. Except, we couldn't see anything but the stars.

And then it started. A faint green glow appeared, a whisp of light at first than soon became a shaft cutting wide across the sky; hooked like a teaspoon that kept filling up with auroral sugar. It was slowly moving, gaining new ripples and curls each time you watched a section for long enough. We both jumped out the car and began to fumble around with clumsy gloves to setup tripods and time-lapses to capture some of the unfolding spectacle.

Reflecting in the calm bay in front of us, the green of the aurora continued to intensify. But now, instead of slowly morphing, the whole sky began to dance. I had seen a weak aurora borealis before this, in Sweden but I'd always assumed that those videos of it moving were sped up. We can confirm that standing watching it, it is very much capable of moving in real time, as the whole sky whirred with green waves rolling around the magnetosphere. I took a couple more pictures, and then simply sat back to enjoy watching this stunning natural wonder.

Reindeer

When you drive north through Finland (and Norway and Sweden) you'll likely at some point cross a barrier that tells you you're entering the reindeer herding area. This is the designated locality across Lapland in which the Sámi and other herders keep their animals. Occasionally you'll come across large numbers of the reindeer but more often you'll just come across small herds and individuals. Though appearing and behaving as wild, these are in fact part of the large herds of domesticated animals that are left to free roam across the landscape. More information about the history and current practices around this herding can be found from the International Centre for Reindeer Husbandry.

Elk

Alongside reindeer, we were always on the lookout for elk. Known as moose in North America, these are the largest member of the deer family. Sadly long extinct in Britain, they thrive across Scandinavia where they are still an important source of wild meat. I hope that with our fast-changing attitudes towards wild herbivores in Britain that these important habitat-shapers will be reintroduced. I'm not sure they're quite in the league of ecosystem engineers alongside beavers, but their importance in shaping everything from young conifers to birch scrub to wetlands can't be overlooked - performing a quite different role to red deer and creating habitat for myriad species.

As with the other larger species in the region, one of the best places to look for them is simply along the sides of the roads on your travels. Scan open glades but also pay close attention in the thinner woodland, where it can be relatively easy to pick out an elk even if they're a few trees back into the scrub forest. If you're only familiar with seeing red deer, you can look forward to being impressed by just how much bigger elk are over their red cousins.

If you do spot one elk, it's always worth waiting and watching as there's a fair chance there will be another hiding nearby. Elk calves stay with their mothers for around 18 months, and it's not uncommon to see small groups of a couple of cows with calves in tow.

The end of the road

After an epic 10 days travelling in Finland and Norway, it was finally time to return home. As we travelled back south, we ticked off our final mammal of the trip. A distant movement on the edge of a frozen lake caught our attention. My immediate, ever-optimistic but somewhat knee jerk reaction was "LYNX!" but once we had the scope on it, we had hazy views of the finest looking red fox I've ever seen. It was pulling away at a piece of carrion buried in the snow, with little luck at dislodging it. Watching it as best we could through the haze, it appeared to be the leg of a reindeer. Perhaps the victim of a wolverine, cached for a future meal but helping get this red fox through its next few days here.

Did this trip report help you?

If you're planning a trip to this region, I hope this report has proved helpful? If so, why not buy us a beer or a coffee, it really helps the long nights spent planning the next trip: