I
was clinging to the rear-seat passenger handles of a snowmobile , whizzing through a polar-white forest on the Arctic Circle .
My wife was at the controls , and it was clear she had lost none of the dirt-bike skills she learned as a girl in rural Australia . She couldn ’ t see me getting airborne behind her as she rode over the bumps . She couldn ’ t hear me yelling at her to slow down above the roar of the engine and her own joyful whooping . Even when I headbutted her with my safety helmet to get her attention , she still rode on , oblivious .
She wasn ’ t even speeding , just staying on the track behind the guide , but from the backseat it felt like we were doing 100 km / hr .
Reindeer deep among the trees must have raised their eyebrows at my yells — if reindeer have eyebrows — as if to say , “ there goes another bunch of snowmobile newbies ”.
The forest we had ridden through had been coated with snow and ice for five months , since October ; snow upon snow upon snow had transformed it into a true winter wonderland .
As the trees began to thin out , our guide Alexis slowed to a crawl ahead of us and cruised to a halt on the edge of a vast frozen lake .
“ Everyone OK ?” he asked once we had dismounted . I was about to say it was a miracle I hadn ’ t been jettisoned off into a snowdrift a few kilometres back but once I lifted my helmet visor , all my fear subsided and was overtaken by awe .
The frozen lake spread at least five kilometres ahead of us . The silence was broken only holidaysforcouples . travel 33