Volvo takes its road-holding seriously. Motoring Editor Michael McAleer tests some nimble Swedes on a snow-bound landscape in northern Finland
About 250kms north of the Arctic circle lies snow-covered Saariselkä. Just 260kms west of the Russian port of Murmansk.
The Finnish town is home to the EU's most northerly ski slope and to what's said to be the world's most northerly rugby tournament, a "sevens" event played in the snow. It's also where towel-clad families in log cabins gather around heated stones to sweat, before rushing out into the cold to jump into a hole in the ice. Well, whatever you're into really.
And it's home to one of the best winter test tracks in the world, used by car-makers and tyre companies to perfect their wares in the frozen extremes.
With all these madcap ice antics, the local Sami people hone one ability above all others from an early age: balance. And as we all know, where you have balance the art of dance isn't far behind.
From the moment you alight from the plane to the time you race around an ice-covered go-kart track, it's all about defying nature's laws and reapportioning weight. When you're behind the wheel of two tonne of sliding metal on main roads, the dance can become a matter of life and death.
To find the source of the Sami mastery of icy roads, we were to be immersed in the local culture. First was the ritual sauna, then a slippy dash to a frozen lake into which a small two-metre square hole had been cut. From the heat of the sauna you slip and slide across the snow to the hole where you plunge into the heart-stopping chill.
Finns have a healthy interest in defying life's normal limits. They challenge nature - with the utmost respect. This is demonstrated by the "Scandinavian flick" - heading into a snow-covered hairpin bend at 70km/h and actually urging the car to spin.
"It gets the weight moving around, makes it more dynamic," explains Jordi, the man racing a Volvo S60R around a short rally track designed to show us how the professionals do it.
To improve our balance before we try the Scandinavian flick ourselves, we are bussed under the night sky to the top of one of Saariselka's surrounding hills. Each of us is handed a glorified dinner tray attached to a piece of string - our transport back down.
Just as we're easing into our descent they explain that it normally serves as a ski slope. Steering is achieved by shifting our weight or using our hands - the brakes are our feet. Barrelling down at hair-raising speed, we spend most of the time weaving through sprawled colleagues who have lost their trays.
If we have to meet our maker, at least it's an unusual story for the family to recount - "Michael died in a freak toboggan accident in northern Finland". It beats being run down by the 46A.
Thus honed, we face the ultimate test of balance - on one of the major test tracks in the northern hemisphere. Several kilometres outside the remote outpost town of Ivalo, the track is regularly used by car- and tyre-makers. Only weeks before we arrived, Porsche had been testing the Cayenne there.
The sliding metal gate and three-metre perimeter fence camouflaged by the snow gives the impression of a military base. In a basin between surrounding hills lie a series of test tracks, each glistening in the fading Arctic light.
Today we are testing Volvo's new V8 XC90, a 4.5-litre SUV offering 315 bhp. Though it's available only in left-hand-drive for now, there are suggestions it may cross-over in the near future. Of more interest to Irish motorists is the V50 T5 all-wheel-drive, with Volvo's 2.5-litre 220bhp 5-cylinder engine.
Our first adventure is with the XC90 over a seemingly tame collection of steep inclines and rugged tracks. All seems pretty mundane - the turning of the steering wheel and the grind of the engine broken by the whine of the brakes being automatically applied to prevent wheel spin.
The key to our balance and poise lies in the electronic gadgetry - there's a long list of abbreviations to send most motorists into comas. DSTC is the latest abbreviation - Dynamic Stability and Traction Control, but to all except Volvo boffins it stands for the sum of devices designed to keep you from killing yourself.
We leave the off-road tracks for a long frozen straight of sheet ice with a chicane of traffic cones. Again in the V50 T5 and the XC90 we glide majestically through the cones, virtually kissing each one in what amounted to a near perfect straight line. But turn the DSTC off and, even with the back-up of ABS and anti-skid devices still in operation, our path is like that of a drunk on the way home.
The return leg of what seemed like a runway straight was made on snow. One of the most interesting sensations of the exercise was the vast difference in grip between snow and ice. In Ireland both are considered treacherous, but snow retains a strong frictional force and, even with DSTC turned off, the deviation from the best line was limited.
From here it's over to the skid pan. We are expected to waltz the Volvo V50 T5 around this doughnut of ice surrounding a mound of snow. The trick is to build up speed in first gear - then it's into second for the rest of the time, keeping the car constantly sideways around and around the track using the slightest dabble of power and the odd flick of the wheel. At first there's great flailing of arms and spinning of the wheel, accompanied by a 5,000-rev chorus from the 2.5-litre 220bhp engine. But within minutes we've settled into the rhythm, one hand on the wheel gently brushing it one way or the other. It's beautiful, majestic - not about speed, all about balance.
With the DSTC on we still manage to flick out the rear and swirl around. Without it, our circle is wider. The point of this: even with the gadgetry there's still plenty of room for driver input and enjoyment.
It's only by pitting human against machine that you really get an idea of the advances in technology. During the off-road testing, we came upon what can only be described as the slightest of inclines. As we barrelled up the hill in our V8 Volvo XC90, our colleague, Paddy, decided it was the perfect photo opportunity. No sooner had he hopped out than the magic of the scenery seemed to take over and he broke into dance - a touch of Riverdance, a definite Charleston jive and even a hint of a Michael Jackson moonwalk before a finale that seemed to come together in an attempted double somersault.
While we scrambled for a scoreboard to give him marks out of 10, he hung in mid-air for one of those cartoon-like pauses before disappearing into the snow embankment. The Finns may have balance but the Irish know how to put on a show.
