My Unforgettable 2025 Snowshoe and Ice Fishing Trip from Kemi: A Real Review

So, you are thinking about that snowshoe trip for ice fishing in Kemi. I get it, really. The idea of walking on a frozen sea, just you and the incredible quiet of the Arctic, is pretty much magnetic. Honestly, I had seen the pictures and, you know, sort of wondered if it could really be that peaceful. That special. Well, I finally did it, and to be honest, I want to share what the whole thing was actually like. Not just the highlights, but the feel of it. The crunch of the snow, the surprising warmth of the gear, and that moment when you’re just sitting by a little hole in the ice, feeling like you are the only person for miles. This is basically my story about the day, from start to finish. I mean, it’s about what you can really expect, the little things that, at the end of the day, make a trip like this something you talk about for years. So, you can sort of decide if it’s the right kind of adventure for you.

Kemi itself is, like, a really interesting little town right on the Bothnian Bay. It’s pretty much the gateway to a lot of these Lapland experiences. The trip itself usually starts from a central point, or they pick you up. It’s just very organized, you know. But the real feeling starts to kick in when you leave the town behind. The buildings just kind of disappear, and suddenly, you are surrounded by these snow-covered forests and then, the big one: the frozen sea stretching out. It is honestly vast. The sheer size of it is, like, something you can’t really get from a photograph. And knowing you are about to walk out onto that solid sheet of ice… it’s a little bit of a thrill, actually. For me, the anticipation was a huge part of the experience, kind of wondering what mysteries lay under the ice. You might find some interesting reads on these winter conditions if you are a bit of a planner like me. It was, frankly, the beginning of a truly different sort of day.

First Steps: Gearing Up and Meeting the Guide

Alright, so arriving at the starting point was actually very low-key and friendly. No big production or anything like that. We met our guide, a local Finnish guy named Mikko, who, you know, just had this really calm and competent air about him. You could just tell he’s been doing this forever. He wasn’t just a guide; he seemed like a part of the landscape. First things first was the gear. I was, like, a little bit worried about being cold. I mean, it’s the Arctic, right? But they provided these huge, padded thermal overalls that you just step into right over your own clothes. Honestly, you feel kind of like a fluffy astronaut, but let me tell you, they are incredibly warm. So, that was a huge relief, actually. Getting dressed up is kind of a fun ritual, you feel yourself transforming from a regular tourist into, well, an arctic explorer. Mikko was really patient, showing everyone how to zip up and get comfortable. It’s in these small moments that you begin to appreciate the local knowledge; you can explore similar stories about the value of local guides if you’re interested.

Next up were the snowshoes. Now, if you have never used them before, they look a little bit awkward. They’re basically like tennis rackets for your feet. Mikko gave a quick, super simple demonstration. “Just walk like you normally walk,” he said, “but with your feet a little wider.” And honestly, that was pretty much it. After a couple of wobbly steps, you just get the hang of it. It’s sort of a fun, rhythmic motion. The shoes just keep you on top of the deep snow instead of sinking in. We all sort of practiced for a minute in the snow by the shore, laughing at ourselves. It just broke the ice, literally and figuratively. This preparation phase was surprisingly not a chore at all; it was actually part of the adventure. It made everything feel a lot more real and, you know, got everyone in the group chatting and feeling more comfortable with each other.

You know, the feeling of putting on that thermal suit is a strange kind of comfort. It’s like you’re getting a big, warm hug from the arctic itself, preparing you for the quiet world you’re about to step into. It really changes your mindset from ‘surviving the cold’ to ‘enjoying the quiet’.

The guide also went over the plan for the day in a really clear way. No rushing. He just explained we would walk for about a kilometer or so out onto the frozen sea. He pointed to a spot that, frankly, looked just like any other spot on the massive white expanse. He said it was a good area for perch. It’s funny how a guide’s confidence can be so reassuring. We were basically putting our trust in his knowledge of this huge, seemingly uniform landscape. He handed out the fishing gear too, which was just surprisingly simple. A small rod called a ‘pimpli’ and a little box of lures. No complicated reels or anything. Just pure, simple, traditional fishing. That simplicity was, like, a recurring theme of the whole day. To be honest, finding that perfect starter kit for ice fishing isn’t as hard as it seems after an experience like this. It really stripped everything back to basics.

The Walk Across the Frozen Sea

Okay, so that first step onto the sea ice is… something else. It feels solid, really solid. But your brain is still, like, screaming “you’re walking on water!” It’s a very strange and amazing feeling. The sound is the first thing you notice. Or rather, the lack of it. Once you are a few hundred meters from the shore, the sounds of the world just… stop. The only thing you hear is the soft, rhythmic *crunch… crunch… crunch* of your snowshoes on the snow. That, and the sound of your own breathing inside your hood. It is so incredibly peaceful. You can almost feel the silence on your skin. We walked in a loose line behind Mikko, everyone sort of lost in their own thoughts. The landscape is so minimal. It’s just white snow, blue sky, and maybe some gray ice patches. It sort of forces your mind to slow down.

As we walked, Mikko would occasionally stop and point out things you would never notice on your own. For example, he showed us a track in the snow and explained it was from an arctic hare. Then he pointed to the pressure ridges in the ice, explaining how the sea freezes and moves. It was like getting a little geology and biology lesson all at once. It made the seemingly empty landscape feel alive, you know? Like it had a story to tell. It’s actually fascinating stuff. These little details really transform the walk from just a physical activity to, like, a deep dive into the environment. We were probably walking for about 30 minutes, but honestly, it didn’t feel like it. The air was crisp and cold, but not biting, and with the thermal suits on, I was perfectly warm. It’s an experience that really makes you feel small in the best possible way, humbled by the scale of nature. Some people get really into the science of it, and you can definitely read more about how this sea ice forms if you find that sort of thing interesting.

Finding Our Fishing Spot

Finally, Mikko stopped. He looked around, stamped his foot a couple of times, and said, “Okay, this seems like a good place.” To us, it looked exactly the same as everywhere else we had just walked over. But he knew. This is where that local expertise really shines. He pulled out this big, hand-cranked ice auger. It’s basically a giant corkscrew for ice. He let a few of us have a go at drilling a hole. It’s harder work than it looks! You have to put your weight into it, and it makes this amazing grinding sound as it chews through the ice. The ice was incredibly thick, probably about two feet deep. When the auger finally punched through, there was this gush of dark seawater that welled up. It was so cool to see. We had made a connection to the sea beneath our feet. Each person got their own hole, spaced out a bit so we all had our own little patch of ocean to work with. The whole process of setting up camp was very deliberate and unhurried.

The Quiet Art of Ice Fishing

So, once the holes were drilled, the actual fishing began. Mikko gave us these small, foldable stools to sit on. He showed us how to bait the tiny, shiny lure on the ‘pimpli’ rod. The technique is basically just dropping the line all the way to the bottom, then jigging it up and down a little bit to attract the fish. And then… you wait. You just sit there, on your little stool, staring at this small, dark hole in a universe of white. The silence comes back, but now it’s different. It’s a silence filled with anticipation. You are just listening. Watching the tip of your tiny rod for any little twitch. It’s incredibly meditative. You start to notice things. The way the light hits the snow. The distant shape of the shoreline. The feel of the slight breeze on the tiny bit of your face that is exposed. It’s really not about catching a huge fish, at the end of the day. It’s about this moment of complete stillness. You know what I mean? It’s a type of peace that is hard to find. Exploring activities that bring this kind of mindfulness has become a bit of a passion for me since this trip.

Time just kind of melts away. I honestly don’t know if I sat there for 20 minutes or an hour. At one point, a lady from our group let out a little yelp. She had a bite! Everyone turned to watch as she excitedly reeled in her line. On the end was a small, silvery perch, flapping on the ice. It was a really exciting moment! Mikko helped her get it off the hook. Not everyone caught something, and I was one of them. And you know what? It didn’t matter at all. I was genuinely happy for the person who did. The experience wasn’t lessened one bit by not having a fish to show for it. That was a big realization for me. The whole point was just *being* there.

Frankly, you could sit there all day. The world just shrinks down to you, your little stool, and that dark circle of water. It’s a kind of therapy, really. You forget about emails, schedules, and all the noise. It’s just you and the possibility of what’s underneath.

While we were fishing, Mikko was busy building a small fire on the ice in a portable fire pit. It seemed kind of magical, having a warm, crackling fire in the middle of a frozen sea. The smell of the burning wood was amazing. He started preparing lunch, and the aroma of sausages grilling just made the whole scene even more surreal and wonderful. It was like the coziest little campsite in the most epic location you could think of. The shift from silent, solitary fishing to a communal, warm campfire gathering was just perfect. It marked a new chapter in the day’s adventure. And seriously, who doesn’t love a good campfire? You could probably find some great info on how to manage a winter fire safely if that sort of survival skill is your thing.

A Campfire Lunch on the Ice

Gathering around that fire was just a fantastic feeling. After the quiet of the fishing, the crackle of the fire and the friendly chatter of the group was really welcoming. The cold that you didn’t even notice you were feeling just seemed to melt away. Mikko handed out grilled pork sausages, or ‘makkara’ as they call them in Finland, which we ate with mustard. Simple, but oh-so-good. They were honestly some of the best sausages I’ve ever had, probably because of the location! We also had hot berry juice, which is a classic Finnish outdoor drink. It’s sweet, warm, and just absolutely perfect for a day like this. It warms you up from the inside out. This little meal was more than just food; it was a completely immersive cultural experience. We were sharing a tradition that Finnish people have enjoyed for generations.

For the woman who caught the perch, Mikko skillfully cleaned it and cooked it right there on the fire. We all got to taste a little piece of fresh, fire-grilled fish pulled from the sea just minutes before. You can’t get fresher than that! It was delicate and delicious. This is what makes a tour like this so special. It’s not just sightseeing. It’s interactive. It’s about tasting, feeling, and participating. Sitting there, eating our simple lunch, surrounded by this huge expanse of ice and sky, we all just shared stories and laughed. It was a really wonderful, communal moment. These are the kinds of memories that stick with you. The story behind these traditional foods is actually really interesting if you are a foodie. It speaks to a way of life that is very connected to nature.

After lunch, we just relaxed by the fire for a bit, soaking in the last of the atmosphere. There was no rush to pack up and leave. The guide just let us enjoy the moment. This relaxed pacing is, I think, really important. You never felt like you were on a strict schedule. It allowed the experience to unfold naturally. We took more pictures, of course. The landscape, with the little fire pit smoking away, was just too beautiful not to. The walk back to shore felt different. We were more chatty, more bonded as a group. We were returning with a shared story. The sun was starting to get a little lower in the sky, casting these long, beautiful shadows on the snow. It was, in a word, magical. It felt like walking back from another world. The entire experience was planned perfectly from a logistical standpoint, which is honestly key for these sorts of specialized adventure tours. It lets you just focus on the moment.

Final Thoughts and Practical Advice

So, who is this trip for? Honestly, I think it’s for anyone with a little bit of an adventurous spirit. You definitely do not need to be an expert winter adventurer or a seasoned fisherman. Not at all. It’s actually perfect for beginners. The walking is flat and not too strenuous, and the guide takes care of everything technical. It’s for people who want to experience the Arctic in a really authentic, hands-on way. If you are looking for peace, quiet, and a chance to just disconnect from the busy world, this is absolutely it. Families with older children would probably love it too. It’s a very safe and controlled environment, but it feels like a grand expedition.

Here’s some practical advice if you decide to go. First, dress in layers. Even with the thermal suits, it’s good to have a base layer, a fleece, and good wool socks. They provide the outer suit and boots, which are excellent, but your personal layers are what manage your comfort. Also, bring sunglasses! The sun reflecting off the snow is incredibly bright, even on an overcast day. A camera is a must, obviously, but also take time to put it away and just be present. You’ll want to absorb the feeling of the place, not just see it through a lens. Lastly, just come with an open mind. You might not catch a fish, and that’s perfectly okay. The real catch of the day is the experience itself. If you’re looking for more info on how to dress, checking out a guide to arctic layering can be super helpful.

A Few Key Takeaways

• It’s surprisingly warm. The provided thermal suits are fantastic. Don’t let a fear of the cold stop you; you’ll be pretty cozy.
• The silence is powerful. Be prepared for a level of quiet that is rare in modern life. It’s one of the most memorable parts of the trip.
• It’s for everyone. You really don’t need any prior experience in snowshoeing or ice fishing to have an amazing time.
• The guide makes the trip. Their knowledge of the area, the ice, and the local traditions truly makes the experience rich and safe.
• It’s more than just an activity. It’s a meditative and cultural experience that connects you with the Finnish landscape in a very real way.
• The food is part of the fun. A simple campfire lunch of sausages and hot berry juice on a frozen sea is an unforgettable memory.