Toubkal Trekking

Snowmobiling Tour at Camp Tamok from Tromsø

Somewhere in the snowy wilderness of northern Norway, a group of slightly overconfident travelers waddled off a minibus like marshmallows in Michelin Man costumes. The journey began in Tromsø, the Arctic capital known for northern lights, codfish, and the persistent chill that laughs in the face of thermal underwear. Snowmobiling Tour at Camp Tamok from Tromsø is worth it!

Camp Tamok, nestled 75 minutes away, promised an Arctic playground. Our ragtag crew of adventurers—half thrilled, half terrified—arrived wondering if they’d signed up for snowmobiling or an elaborate polar survival challenge.

Spoiler alert: it was both.

Suit Up: Layers Upon Layers Upon Layers

At Camp Tamok, the first task is suiting up. Not for war, but for windchill. The staff issued gear that looked like it was borrowed from a deep-sea diver who moonlights as an astronaut. Once inside these snowsuits, people transformed into anonymous puffballs. Nobody knew who was who anymore. Even your best friend could be hiding inside that helmet, or maybe a random Swede. Who can tell?

The guides, calm and suspiciously good-looking in that rugged Scandinavian way, gave a safety briefing. They said words like “brake gently” and “avoid tipping over.” Everyone nodded like they understood. No one really did.

Let the Snowmobiling Begin (Cue the Screaming)

And then: ignition. With a roar, the snowmobiles came to life like Arctic beasts awakening from hibernation. One by one, the convoy set off into the wilderness. The first few minutes were wobbly—snowbanks were narrowly missed, trees gave dirty looks, and one snowmobile did a slow-motion tip-over that looked like performance art.

But soon, everyone found their rhythm. The snowmobiles glided across frozen lakes and pine-lined trails, spraying powder like they were auditioning for an extreme sports commercial. Helmets muffled the screams of joy, terror, and whatever noise that one guy in the back kept making.

Arctic Zen… Until You Hit a Bump

At one point, the convoy stopped to marvel at the surreal beauty around them—miles of unspoiled white silence, broken only by the occasional “Whoa!” from someone discovering snow had crept inside their boots. It was peaceful, breathtaking, and wildly Instagrammable, if your fingers weren’t frozen solid.

But just when people started getting philosophical—“Isn’t this what life is all about?”—someone hit a bump, flew half a meter into the air, and came down giggling like a kid on a sugar high.

The Afterparty: Sausages, Stories, and Maybe Frostbite

Back at the camp, everyone peeled off their suits like molting snow-dragons and stumbled into a cozy wooden cabin where sausages sizzled over an open fire. Hot drinks flowed, fingers thawed, and stories got exaggerated: “I was going at least 70 kilometers an hour,” someone claimed, despite strict speed limits.

Everyone laughed, everyone had survived, and everyone agreed on one thing: they’d totally do it again—preferably after giving their thighs a few days to recover.

Camp Tamok’s Snowmobiling Tour?

Think winter wonderland meets adrenaline fix, with a side of slapstick comedy. Highly recommended—just bring your sense of adventure and maybe some extra socks.