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From Times Online

February 23, 2008

A Swedish hotel on ice

Sitting on an Arctic lake, the Ark Hotel offers fishing through the bedroom floor in Northern Lights territory

The Ark Hotel’s huts offer an authentic taste of local life - as well as the chance to fish, and if you are lucky a perfect viewing platform for the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights)

Ian Belcher

Gallery: the Ark Hotel and the Northern Lights

I'VE SEEN the future of hotel-room entertainment and it involves a big drill, a small rod and a wriggling maggot.

After checking in to Sweden's latest accommodation with time to kill, I found pay-per-view movies and spa treatments weren't on the menu - they had been replaced by in-room fishing.

Do not adjust your sets. That was in-room fishing. Lifting a small trap door by my bed, I inserted a huge power drill provided by the hotel and burrowed into rigid ice beneath the floor. Minutes later I had punctured the metre-thick crust, impaled several maggots on a hook and lowered them into the dazzling blue water.

For the next hour I lay on my bed, twitching a child-sized ice-fishing rod. Far below, a shiny lure and increasingly comatose maggot awaited the plump trout and Arctic char. It was surreal, entertaining - unless you're a maggot - and strangely tense: the bite could come any second.

It was also unique. In-room fishing isn't offered at any other hotel on Earth. Nor is the setting. The Ark Hotel, which opened earlier this month, sits on frozen Lake Torneträsk, 250km (155 miles) inside the Arctic Circle.

Named after the small huts used by contemplative ice fishermen, it has five arks, each holding three guests, and a Sami tepee for communal eating, along with a hot tub, sauna and toilet ark. The wooden buildings - the only punctuation mark on the vast white landscape - cluster like nervous sheds in search of an allotment. The result is a perfect Coen Brothers' movie set.

Softies, however, won't be impressed. The nearest it comes to decadence are the gas-fired heaters, the blue polystyrene loo seat that is pleasantly warm on the buttocks, and a heart-shaped window in the toilet door. The glass was coated in ice, suggesting that it's not the WC for a leisurely read of Saturday's Times.

“It's minimalist, but not a design hotel,” said founder Putte Eby, a master of understatement. “It's strange and wonderful. You're sleeping in a house, but you're on a lake. When you wake up, you're surrounded by incredible scenery.”

You might well be. But first you have to travel 3km across the ice. You can cross-country ski, hike, snowmobile or skate - a good antidote to Britain's crowded artificial rinks. “It takes me about ten minutes,” said our guide, Lars Bergquist. “You should reach the arks in 30.”

Notice the word “should”. With limited experience, adult timidity and nothing to grab for support (apart from Lars), I was duncing on ice. Forget 30 minutes, I was threatening to take several days.

“I'm shocked how bad you are,” said Lars gently. “It's hard to believe an adult can't stand on one blade. You're hopeless.”

He had a point, although I suggest that he sticks to guiding rather than motivational psychology. I eventually swapped skates for a snowmobile and an exhilarating blast to the hotel.

Putte, who also runs the nearby Abisko Mountain Station, hadn't overhyped the setting. To one side, the ridge of the Abisko Alps was broken by the hanging valley of Lapporten. On the other, the peaks of Andra Sidan were tinged with the pink hue of an Arctic afternoon.

But the Ark Hotel offers more than scenic drama - it also provides an authentic taste of local life. As darkness fell, fishing gave way to Zeunerts beer and convivial discussion. “Arks are as much about drink and good conversation as about catching trout and char,” said Lars, cracking open a bottle of single malt. “They're largely for guys. They're about getting away into the wilderness - a freedom thing.”

Their role in regional culture has even been immortalised in Swedish literature. The crime writer Åsa Larsson opens her thriller The Black Trail with a murder in a Lake Torneträsk ark. A shocked fisherman discovers a bloodied corpse and rushes into the Abisko Mountain Station for help.

The local flavour extends to barbecued meals. With fish proving elusive, we chewed slabs of moose sausage and over the next 12 hours devoured fried reindeer pittas, raspberry soup and salt liquorice.

It sounds exotic, but it was a mere apéritif for nature's main course - a four-hour serving of the Northern Lights. They emerged like luridly green MGM spotlights raking the sky and, in freezing air untainted by light pollution, morphed into a supersized serpent. There were pulsing abstract designs, swirling rings and the climax: a torrent of white light cascading on all sides. It was like being engulfed by a heavenly jellyfish.

The display was awe-inspiring, but not surprising. The mountain geography spawns a microclimate known as the Abisko Blue Hole, with a generous supply of clear nights. Japanese research identified it as the most reliable place on Earth to see the aurora borealis, and many Japanese visit specifically to try to conceive, believing sex under the astral phenomenon produces more intelligent children.

But the ark sauna was much more inviting than subzero nooky. It packed serious heat - and a memorable method of cooling down. Fuelled by the euphoria of the lights and prolific quantities of booze, I found myself stepping outside and sprinting across the frozen lake, stark naked apart from flip-flops, howling at the sky. It's the first time I've skinny-dipped in the aurora borealis and it's highly recommended.

When we finally crawled into our sleeping bags, the arks were toasty. Add the warmth of three bodies and you didn't need thermals.

The loo, however, was more of a problem. Come 4.30am and I was desperate, but the thought of a minus 20C yomp to pee was awful. I lay awake, listening to the ice sheet flexing and booming, and contemplated using the fishing hole. That seemed a tad unfair on my fellow guests and the pristine environment, so I finally dressed and headed outside in the manner of Captain Oates; the only time I would have preferred a cushy hotel.

Next morning revealed a brilliant Lapland hangover cure. Within minutes of waking, still in my sleeping bag, I was dropping my line through the trap door - the local version of Nurofen and a fry-up. My final slightly sad catch was two tiny Arctic char. I'm sure fishing's easier in the summer when the arks are stored on dry land. But trust me, it wouldn't be half as much fun - and nor would the skinny-dipping.

Need to know

Ian Belcher travelled with Scandinavian Airlines (0871 5212772, www.flysas.co.uk), which flies daily to Kiruna from Heathrow via Stockholm from £233 return. The Ark Hotel (00 46 980 40200, www.abisko.nu) costs £230pp a night, based on three sharing, including lunch at the Abisko Mountain Station, transfers, fishing, a wilderness dinner, warm clothing and boots.

More information 020-7108 6168, www.visitsweden.com