The reindeer herders of Russia’s Kola Peninsula struggle in solitude against the Polar night, the wind and fatigue, "Russia & India Report" reports.

The flat-topped hills and boundless tundra of the Kola Peninsula resemble the landscapes Ray Bradbury describes in “The Martian Chronicles.” This may be part of Russia, populated by Russians, but the local residents live in houses built on sleds and often walk through a wind that blows so fiercely that it can carry a dog away. When they look up, they see a crimson sky – when it isn’t completely dark.

The younger generation of residents affectionately calls the town of Lovozero Love-Ozero (“Love Lake”). Source: Anton Panin/Viacheslav Vaziulya

For all intents and purposes, there is no light at all from Dec. 10-Jan. 3, but routines don’t alter much during the 2,000 hours of dark the region experiences each year.

Located in the center of the Kola Peninsula, the town of Lovozero, which the younger generation of residents affectionately calls Love-Ozero (“Love Lake”) is the capital of Russian Lapland. The district by the same name is the largest, yet most sparsely populated district in Murmansk Region.

To the east of Lovozero, on the coast, is Gremikha – the “village of flying dogs.” The only way to the village is by water, and only then if the weather is good. In winter, the blizzards and sea storms may keep visitors stuck there for weeks. The strong winds can carry off dogs or small animals, and when the weather is really bad, people have to cling onto metal handrails that line the pedestrian footpaths that run through the whole settlement.

Compared with Gremikha, Lovozero can be called a quiet little hamlet in the tundra.

“We’ve got an apartment in Lovozero, and a house too. But we can’t leave the deer. We go into town around once a month to buy provisions and have a bath,” said Tatyana, a reindeer herder in Gremikha. “Our son Yegor said he’d build us a bathhouse a while ago, but he never managed to. He drowned six years ago.”

Tatyana and her husband Valery live in a small wooden house held together with resin. Jars of canned cloudberries and cranberries line the walls.  When she has to go outside, Tatyana wears a reindeer-skin coat. Reindeer stew is also a common meal for the couple. These visible ties aren’t the only things that bind Tatyana and Valery to the reindeer. They are Komi – a semi-nomadic ethnic minority native to the Russian north, and following the deer is in their blood.

Their friend Misha has other ideas. “Do you know why the reindeer herders don’t want to move back into town? It’s because they know that if they relocate, they’ll hit the bottle. People turn to booze rapidly in Lovozero. Boredom, cold and lack of money – life is tough,” Misha said.

Misha prefers to travel by snowmobile. During the winter, he organizes sledding and snowmobile trips, while in summer, he heads off on treks around the Kola Peninsula. Sometimes he brings tourists to reindeer-herding families, who give the tourists rides on the reindeer for a small fee.

“The tourists come mostly from Russia, Scandinavia and the United States – fans of extreme conditions. No one turns up here by accident. Of course, you need to prepare for the trip; not everyone can live in a teepee or ride 13 hours on a snowmobile. But there’s a romance to things here. The landscape here is as though you’ve landed on a different planet,” Misha said.

“The local authorities had an idea for a project called ‘Russian Lapland,’ with a hotel and ski slopes. The whole thing’s gone sour, but we really wouldn’t need much to get tourism started here. If they could only help small business to get started!”

Misha and his brother are also volunteers in rescue searches for people who get buried in snowstorms, assisting crews from Murmansk and Khibiny. “We don’t have a rescue team in our district. People who aren’t from here lose their way. We guide them on snowmobiles,” Misha said. “But the downside is that no one gives us a penny towards the gas or maintenance of the vehicles.”

Misha prefers to travel by snowmobile. During the winter, he organizes sledding and snowmobile trips, while in summer, he heads off on treks around the Kola Peninsula. Sometimes he brings tourists to reindeer-herding families, who give the tourists rides on the reindeer for a small fee.

“The tourists come mostly from Russia, Scandinavia and the United States – fans of extreme conditions. No one turns up here by accident. Of course, you need to prepare for the trip; not everyone can live in a teepee or ride 13 hours on a snowmobile. But there’s a romance to things here. The landscape here is as though you’ve landed on a different planet,” Misha said.

“The local authorities had an idea for a project called ‘Russian Lapland,’ with a hotel and ski slopes. The whole thing’s gone sour, but we really wouldn’t need much to get tourism started here. If they could only help small business to get started!”

Misha and his brother are also volunteers in rescue searches for people who get buried in snowstorms, assisting crews from Murmansk and Khibiny. “We don’t have a rescue team in our district. People who aren’t from here lose their way. We guide them on snowmobiles,” Misha said. “But the downside is that no one gives us a penny towards the gas or maintenance of the vehicles.”