A Little Lapland Farm

To those unfamiliar, WWOOF is an exchange program connecting volunteers and farm owners around the globe, and it has been on my radar for quite some time. After graduating high school, I was eager to travel and expand my world beyond the slice of New England I’d grown up in, but between a pandemic, tight budgets, and faltering plans with friends, I was left wondering if this ambition was just going to fossilize into an unfulfilled dream and fizzle out. Over the past 5 years I’d forged about half a dozen plans that never came to fruition, so when Matt and I finally did purchase our WWOOF account and began messaging farmers, I wasn’t completely convinced that the trip would actually happen. By a few miracles, we made our budget goal, but as our decided departure date grew closer and no farm had yet confirmed with us, the plan still felt up in the air with no plan to ground. We could, of course, just book a hotel and travel abroad, but that wasn’t really the point in wanting to travel. What we really were looking for was exactly what we got when a little farm in the far north of Sweden accepted our call.

Though we’d been plotting for and anticipating the trip for the past year, it seemed like a whirlwind between the time we’d confirmed our visit and when we were stuffing ourselves onto a plane with a one way ticket. But sure enough, as we stepped into a wet and gray morning in Stockholm, it was real. We went without knowing much of what to expect, only that we hoped to meet good people, to learn, and to have fun. From Stockholm we took a little plane to a smaller airport farther north, and from there with all our belongings on our back, we hopped on a bus to drive another couple hours north to our destination. It was a small town with a population of over 60, and on the bus ride there in the fading day we spotted a moose and a pair of reindeer along the road which felt like a kind omen. Any concerns I’d felt evaporated the second we crossed the threshold of our host’s home. Against the blue evening, the warm light of their house illuminated the faces we’d be spending the next two weeks with. They bustled around the kitchen, setting the table for dinner as we dropped our things and we were given quick introductions to our host couple and the three other volunteers that would be there with us. A young couple from Germany, a woman from Hungary, and a few days later, a young man from Pakistan made up the full farm family along with our two hosts who had lived their whole lives in northern Sweden. 

Right away we fell into the groove of the small haven which raised sheep, and our daily tasks included feeding them and refreshing their water in the morning, noon, and night. The lambs were very loud and, with varying success, we would take turns distracting them in their pasture so we could fill their trough with pellets. I was amazed by how much they ate. The lambs and the full grown sheep seemed to think of nothing other than eating. They spent their entire days grazing on grass and when they’d eaten up all the greenery, we would move the fencing of their pasture to a different plot of land in the village. Despite eating all day, they were always so excited to see us when we brought them food that you’d think they’d been starving. 

Our hosts always had tasks around the property to be done, but they were also very keen to let us know that we were not slaves and if there was work we weren’t comfortable with or if we needed breaks, then that was okay. The projects varied from gathering hay with the tractor to painting the shed, but I think more than anything Matt and I spent our days doing what our hosts affectionately called “shit-shoveling”. On our first day we were knee deep in dried sheep droppings and scrubbing out the chicken coop. Later in the week, our task was tackling an old barn from the 1800’s where the sheep stayed. It was sporting a layered carpet about a foot deep made entirely of animal excrements and hay. With pitchforks, we ripped up layer by layer of the stuff which varied in both texture and stench and provided a pretty good workout as we hacked away. Nasty, but also sort of rewarding to finish. We also combined our amateur carpentry skills to expand the chicken coop and, on a more whimsical note, spent a few days in the woods foraging for lingonberries which are abundant at that time of year. 

Besides the work, we were given a great deal of free time to explore the quiet area and had the chance to boat out on the lake and drive the ATV around to some of the beautiful spots nearby. Our hosts were also very kind to share their time with us and brought us to visit the local airfield as well as on a trip into the mountains near the border of Norway. We spent meals together in the evening, more than a few times gathered around the great fire pit outside, cooking over the coals as we sat on reindeer pelts under the clear sky. And of course, one of the most spectacular and highly anticipated spectacles was the chance to see the northern lights. 

The first night we saw them came after we’d settled into bed and Matt’s phone gave the notification that they might be active in our area. Bundled in our pajamas and coats, we headed outside to where sure enough, there they were above us. At first, they might have just been pale whisps of cloud in the darkness, but as time crept on they gained energy and life and were suddenly dancing above us like spotlights moving across a landscape of stars. We lay on the pavement in the middle of the road to watch them dance which was really quite special. The next solar storm was predicted for 10:00 at night, so along with a couple of the other volunteers, we took the guest car up into the hills away from the village lights and parked off the street to look out more clearly into the darkness. I had visions of bears and moose tramping through the trees in front of us, but it was hard to stay paranoid when suddenly from the horizon to right overhead the sky was aglow with green. Though not as energetic in their dancing as the night before, these lights were much clearer, so much so that we were able to see the color with our naked eyes. Everywhere we looked the sky was different, and though the air was icy cold we stayed out there for a long time taking pictures and taking it in. 

When it came time to go we felt equally sad and satisfied. The farm and its people had provided everything we’d hoped for in our visit; the chance to meet kind people, try new things, and ultimately to have fun. When we drove away in the early morning mists to catch our flight from Umeå, we left with a lot of gratitude for our experience. I hope we do get to return. Our hosts invited us back again any time and we would love to take them up on it, but whether we make it back again or not, I know that I appreciate the time that we were all there together and the memories that we made.