Finally my hands are warm(ish), I’m somewhere on the last hill of the route. A street light appears over the brow of the hill, incongruous in the vast forest. Street light means road, road means end of the hard stuff, I cross and drop down to the Ounasjoki which will lead me to the finish. Suddenly the temperature plummets and in the 200 metres between the road and river my hands become blocks of ice. The next, final, checkpoint is a kilometre along the ice. I can warm up there. I turn my head and notice something. There, hanging in the sky, is a curtain of green light with translucent veils to...