When we eventually made it back to a tar seal road we did so with a feeling of insult, with a bad taste in the mouth. Russians are not exactly renowned for their ecological consideration and the mineral processing plant looked abhorrent after coming so suddenly after days of pristine wilderness. We weren’t long in the concrete town of Kirovsk and then thankfully we were heading off into the pristine mountains.
The Kibiny are old mountains, their black rocks towering over the narrow valley. It was late but Frank wanted to go and check the level of snow for the next day, but everyone in their 4WDs volunteered to go with him. We dropped our bags off at the spa hotel and I cancelled a massage I’d booked  - which actually wasn’t such a bad thing.
I’d had the mental image of a young blonde with delicate hands in a tight white uniform easing the travel fatigue out of my muscles. Well, her uniform was tight all right, but around her huge body so would have been a tent. She looked like the sort of woman they’d use to get her hands on you to extract a confession.
For months I’d been enjoying the positively balmy summer weather, taking the kids and dogs for walks in the lush woods behind the house, watching the corn grow in the fields, rubbing sun cream on noses on the beach, so I was totally unprepared to see the road blocked with deep snow that stretched all the way up both sides of the valley.
It was a totally alien scene and I felt as if I’d just woken up from a coma and realised that I’d missed a few months of my life. Our track was covered under a metre of snow so forward progress was impossible and as Frank fiddled with the gears I thought he was selecting reverse. Nope. He was locking the transmission so that could have more traction, and then at a terrifying angle we forced our way off the road into the river.
I was almost thrown out of my seat and was convinced that we must have severely damaged the vehicle, but Frank was laughing: this was exactly the kind of use the Soviets designed the truck for. The Land Rovers couldn’t follow in the Gaz’s massive tyre tracks though, but again, no problem, Robb was out tying the first three cars together and then still chuckling Frank calmly dragged them all into the river. `
The water had cut a channel through the snow but the banks were at least a couple of metres tall. I looked out the back and saw the 4WDs behind with the fast flowing water lapping over the bonnets. I guess that this is why it says on the website that snorkels are recommended. About 20 minutes further on though and our way seemed totally impassable.
An avalanche had dumped snow all the way across the river, which had cut a tunnel underneath. It seemed like we were going to have to reverse a few km, but no. It seems Robb and Frank don’t consider going back an option. Spades and ropes were brought out and a technique devised which included ramming the snow with the truck and then slicing through it with a loop of winch wire as the truck reversed.
Robb had hurt his back on his travels somewhere, but while he couldn’t dig he made a fire to boil the kettle and then started roasting some more shahkiks for us. To the smell of roasting pork and peppers we dug, winched the cars along, dug some more and then finally broke through.
And there it was, the perfect moment. The one scene that defined the whole trip. The image to put on the folder of all the other photos.
It was 3am on the Summer Solstice. In just a few hours the sun, which for us was high in the sky, would be rising between the Heel stones of Stonehenge, but here we were in Arctic Russia throwing snowballs at each other. No other words to describe it, just absolute magic! You’ll just have to go there yourself!
If you like the sound of this expedition please have a look at the World 4x4 Adventures website. www.world4x4.co.uk
And bear in mind that included in the tour price the company arranges all of your Russian paperwork for you, as well as all of your food and accommodation.