Urho Kekkonen National Park, one of the most famous national parks in Finland, was founded in 1956 and is named after Urho Kekkonen, the former President of Finland who played a key role in the establishment of the park. The park spans over 2,550 square kilometers in the Lapland region, making it one of the largest protected areas in the country.
This national park is renowned for its stunning natural landscapes, ranging from rolling fells and dense forests to serene lakes and winding rivers. It offers a wide variety of outdoor activities, including hiking, skiing, snowshoeing, and wildlife watching. The park is particularly famous for its rich biodiversity, being home to a diverse array of animals, such as reindeer, moose, wolves, and lynx, as well as a vast number of bird species.
I still remember the moment I stepped onto the trail—the quiet was the first thing I noticed. Not the kind of silence that feels empty, but one that’s full, like the land itself was breathing. All around me stretched the northern boreal forest, trees standing tall and proud, their dark green needles brushing against a sky the color of cold slate.
I was in Urho Kekkonen National Park, and I felt small in the best way.
The air smelled like pine and something ancient. Moss blanketed the forest floor, soft beneath my boots, and the light filtered through the branches like stained glass. I could hear water somewhere—maybe a stream, maybe just the wind playing tricks. Every step forward felt like walking into a painting.
I took one of the easier trails to start, something gentle to ease into the wild. Families passed me with cheerful voices, their laughter echoing between the trees, but I kept moving forward, slowly, quietly, drawn by something deeper. Soon the forest began to thin, giving way to alpine tundra—a raw, open landscape that took my breath away. The sky widened, the wind picked up, and suddenly it was just me, the tundra, and the endless horizon.
I stood there for a while, letting it all sink in.
By the second day, I had moved onto a more challenging trail. The solitude was stronger out here, and I felt it in my bones. There were moments I wasn’t sure how far I’d come or how far I had to go—but then I’d reach a ridge or a frozen lake and forget everything except the stillness around me.
And then came the real magic.
At night, the stars burned so clearly it felt like I could reach out and brush them with my fingertips. And one evening, I saw them—the Northern Lights, faint and dancing just above the treetops. No camera could capture what I saw, not really. It was like the sky exhaled color.
But it wasn’t just the nature that moved me. I met a Sámi guide near one of the cultural areas in the park. He spoke quietly, calmly, as if time moved differently for him. He told stories—not just of reindeer and snow, but of a deep connection to the land, a respect I could feel in the way he spoke. He showed me tools carved from antler, and we stood together in front of ancient rock paintings that seemed to hum with memory.
In those moments, I saw the land differently—not just beautiful, but sacred.
As winter deepened, the park changed again. Snow softened every path. I tried cross-country skiing, awkward at first but soon like flying. The cold kissed my cheeks, the trees stood silver and silent, and I felt more alive than I had in years.
This place—it’s not just a park. It’s a heartbeat. A wild, whispering soul of Finland.
And as I see it now, in memory and in feeling, Urho Kekkonen is a place that doesn’t just show you nature—it shows you who you are when everything else falls away.
