The wind is biting my cheeks, hard. They hurt. I wish I could put my scarf around my face, but I can’t. I can’t do anything. I’m hanging on for dear life. I have my weight forward over the handle and I don’t want to do anything that might unbalance me. I nearly came a cropper on the very first bend after we left the corral. Björn turned to look at me, and there was no way I was going to let him see me falling straight away and managed to throw my weight forward and right myself. Now we’re moving across the soft snow, out into . . . well, nowhere, it feels like. There’s nothing around, just clumps of trees, their boughs heavy with snow like they’ve been dipped in royal icing. The road is no longer in sight.
I grip the handle, my whole body shaking, absolutely freezing cold as the wind cuts through my clothing, and absolutely bloody terrified. Other than the wind in my ears, there is just the sound of the whooshing of the sled across the snow, and a strange clicking noise, though I have no idea where that’s coming from.
‘Hike!’ I hear Björn call as we work our way up an incline in the snowy wasteland, and the dogs push forward. I have no idea how he knows where we’re heading. His collie-type dogs are sitting on the sled like royalty, pink tongues lolling out in pleasure. They only jump off when instructed to keep the herd moving together.
Just when I think I might die from cold and being bent over in the same position for what seems like forever, to my utter relief Björn seems to be slowing down and bringing his sled team to a halt. Mine slows behind him, and I could cry with relief that we’re nearing the end of the day’s journey. The reindeer slow up too, and begin to wander around, snuffling at the snow with their big soft noses. All I want now is a hot bath, a large glass of wine, a bowl of steaming chips, and bed, where I think that for the first time in a long time I will sleep. Proper sleep. The slowly drifting off and having nice dreams sort of sleep that has evaded me for so long. Or maybe I’ll just fall into an exhausted coma that I’ll never wake up from.
‘We’re heading for that forest,’ Björn shouts over his shoulder, pointing to the thick wall of snow-covered trees ahead. He slows the dogs right down and moves his sled out wide so he’s beside me. ‘Put on your brake!’ He points to where he’s standing on his own brake at the back of the sled. I try and move my frozen foot over the bar and fumble but finally step on it, wincing with the pain.
Above us, the sky is full of thick cloud and the gentle snow continues to fall like someone’s dusting us with icing sugar. I take some big gulps of air. Despite it being freezing cold, I’m hot and my throat is dry. Björn puts his hand inside his coat and pulls out a bottle of water. I’m terrified about taking my hands off the handle. The dogs are straining to keep moving, and I’m standing on the brake as hard as I can, but the sled is still moving forward. But I manage to take the bottle and have a couple of gulps of the water.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks. ‘We can stop here for a bit, take a rest. I’ll light a fire and we can have coffee.’ He looks at me, concerned.
I nod, despite my entire body screaming. I’m far from okay. I ache all down my legs and my lower back from balancing on the sled. My arms are stiff from the sheer tension of holding on for the hours we’ve been travelling across that wasteland. And my cheeks, feet and fingers feel like they’re going to drop off with cold.
I wave a hand towards the forest. ‘Let’s keep going,’ I rasp through my dry throat. I can only think about the warmth of a hotel, a fire and a bed.
‘Are you sure? We’ve made good time.’
I shake my head.
‘You want to push on? We could stop here, camp for the night.’
Camp? Is he mad? Clearly. Which makes me want to get to civilisation even faster.
‘No,’ I rasp again and shake my weary head. ‘Keep going.’ The quicker we get there, the sooner this will all be over. I survey the dogs in front of me. At least I’ve managed to stay on so far. Björn’s lead dog turns and looks at me, one eye blue, the other yellow, and the fear runs up and down my spine all over again.
‘Well, if you’re sure you’re up for this. We should get a couple more miles under our belt before we lose the light for the day, if we can keep up a good pace. It’s a slightly trickier ride. But keep inside the sticks. See them? Markers pushed into the snow to show the way. Keep inside them and you’ll be fine. It’ll be colder over this bit and the dogs will want to run.’
I nod, ignoring the ‘trickier ride’. How much harder can it be?
I’m so tired and numb from the cold, I don’t know if I’ve nodded or shaken my head. My stomach roars with hunger as I realise breakfast was a long time ago, and I dream about Lars’s sandwiches, regretting now that I turned them down.
‘Try and stick behind the herd. That way you’ll keep a steady pace. I’ll move either side of them to stop them drifting.’ He pauses. ‘You’re sure you’re up for this? You don’t have to. You’re a beginner.’
I don’t know if that’s a compliment or a swipe at my lack of skills. Perhaps he thinks I’m no help at all and just a hindrance.
I nod again, more definitely this time. I pull off my gloves and run a hand over my numb face, but my fingers freeze in an instant.
‘I’m fine. Let’s push on,’ I manage through short breaths. Big plumes of hot air billow out in front of me. Shaking more than ever from fear and exhaustion, I put my gloves back on.
He pulls out his phone, checking our location by the looks of it.
‘We’ll take a straight line across this way, through those poles.’ He points ahead. ‘Then we’ll rejoin the path that will take us through the forest.’ Snow is settling on the dogs’ backs, on the luggage on the sled too and even on his outstretched arm. ‘We have an hour or so before we lose the light, and we’ll need to get the dogs and reindeer settled for the night,’ he continues, and then turns to look at me, making the knot of tension in my stomach twist even tighter
‘My dogs are ready. Let’s go! Hike!’ He steps off and releases his brake and commands his collie dogs to round up the herd, and I grip the handlebar and take my foot off the brake and we’re off again. This time at a whole different speed. The dogs seem to be in control and I’m just clinging on, bent at the knees, hunched over the handle against the wind. The reindeer are running as a huge herd together and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. This is insane! a voice says as we plunge forward into the great white expanse. Insane!