An adventure journal about my experience on the Snow and Saunas in Estonia group trip with Much Better Adventures.
In part two of my three‑part Baltic adventure, I pick up right where I left my 36 Hours in Riga journal (hopefully you’ve read that post – and watched the videos). This time I’m heading to and spending time in Estonia, on a Much Better Adventures guided adventure featuring outdoorsy activities with a wintery flavour; some requiring a lot of energy (and some coordination…), and others designed to sooth the soul. And I can confirm, the Snow and Saunas in Estonia itinerary was as up my street as it sounds…
From Riga to Tallinn
After an it‑will‑do sleep in the Hilton Garden Inn Riga Old Town (not the hotel’s fault, just one of those nights where my brain wouldn’t settle), I walked the 10 minutes to the Central Market to pick up a €1 slice pizza for my road trip lunch, and then found my way to the bus station. One of the things I loved about Riga was how easy everything was: the airport bus, the compact Old Town, and now this – a central bus depo that was simple to navigate and perfectly placed for onward travel.
I’d chosen the Lux Express service to Tallinn, upgrading to the Comfort class for only a few euros more. Worth every bit. Instead of the usual 2–2 layout, Comfort has a 2–1 configuration, which meant I had a wide, plush seat all to myself, loads of legroom, and a little table that made the whole thing feel more like a moving workspace than a bus. There was a coffee machine, a toilet, and Wi‑Fi (not brilliant, but enough to save my data). The air‑cooling worked well, the ride was smooth, and we didn’t stop once – a straight‑through 4-hour 13-minute glide from one capital to the next.
I’d intended to spend the journey writing and sorting photos, but instead I watched a documentary and a musical, and ate snacks. No regrets. It was a relaxed, comfortable way to travel, and I was very glad I’d chosen the bus over heading back to the airport to fly. There’s more bus content in the video, naturally.
New City, New Group, New Adventure
Tallinn’s bus station sits a little outside the centre, about a 30‑minute walk, and although there are local buses and taxis, I chose to complete it on foot. After sitting for so long, stretching my legs felt good. I checked into Hotel St Barbara, the base for the first and last nights of the Much Better Adventures trip.
I’d booked this trip only weeks earlier, looking for something to pull me out of my head and into the world again; something physical, outdoorsy, and outside my usual routine. After dropping my bag and taking a moment to get sorted, I headed out to meet the rest of the group. There were five of us to start with – a Brit, an Australian, an American, someone from Northern Ireland, and me – plus our guide, Anton (with four more to arrive including a second guide, Ray). Anton was instantly reassuring: calm, organised, quietly funny, and clearly proud of his country.
Within minutes we were following him through Tallinn’s Old Town on an evening walking tour, learning about the city’s split‑level layout, its medieval walls, and its layers of occupation and resilience. It was a lovely way to ease into the group dynamic – walking tours are low‑stakes and always interesting. As we sat eating dinner together afterwards, I felt a sense that the next few days would be exactly what I’d hoped for: a chance to move, to breathe, and to be somewhere entirely different for a while.
I think I’ll take you through the trip as it happened – a bit of a ‘and then we’ account, perhaps, but doing my best to pick out the bits that really meant something…
Day 1: Waterfalls, Kick‑Sledding, Smoke Sauna
A (Nearly) Frozen Waterfall
The day began with breakfast at Hotel St Barbara, a lovely old limestone‑fronted building just outside Tallinn’s Old Town. It had that perfect city‑break balance: great location, quiet rooms, and a breakfast buffet that made it very easy to justify a second pastry. After checking out, we piled into our minibus and headed east, watching the city slip away into forests, fields, and long straight roads.
Our first stop was Jägala Waterfall, Estonia’s largest by width. In early March it was in that dramatic in‑between state: half frozen, half roaring, the river iced over on top but rushing fiercely underneath. Thick shelves of ice clung to the cliff edge, looking dirty from the winter weather. Every so often a chunk would crack and fall with a deep, echoing thud.
The ground around us was a patchwork of snow, very slippery ice, and thawing mud, and the air had that sharp, metallic chill that wakes you up from the inside out. A little touristy stop to get us started for sure, but my first taste of Estonia’s wildness was welcome. I found the waterfall to be powerful yet understated, clinging onto winter but giving into the inevitable melt. Standing there, watching the water force its way through the freeze, felt like a nod to its resilience.
I’m Rubbish at Kick Sledding
From the waterfall we drove deeper into Lahemaa National Park, where our kick‑sledding adventure awaited. I’d imagined something serene and gliding, a sort of Nordic winter stroll on runners. In reality, kick sledding is a full‑body workout disguised as a charming activity. The sled itself is two narrow skis with a handlebar attached, which you push, scooter‑style, while attempting to steer with a combination of hope and momentum.
The 4km trail we went on was a chaotic mix of ice, slush, and mud. Every time I found a smooth patch, it immediately turned into a skid; every time I braced for what looked like ice, I hit a puddle. Our little group slipped, laughed, swore, and encouraged each other around the forest loop, weaving between pines and birches under a bright, cold sun. It was harder than expected – properly sweaty, legs‑burning, heart‑thumping hard – but also brilliant fun.
Lunch was served outdoors at the centre café: beetroot soup, a goat cheese salad, and a slice of curd cheesecake that felt like a reward for surviving the ice. I sat in the sun, steaming gently from the effort, feeling that a mix of tired and celebratory thanks to doing something slightly ridiculous in beautiful surroundings.
Traditional Smoke Sauna
In the afternoon we had a taste of the traditional Estonian smoke sauna. I’ve already shared a full Sauna Stories on this one, but here’s the short version: two dark, timber‑lined chambers heated by a wood‑burning stove; a cauldron‑style hot tub simmering over an open fire; a plunge hole cut into bog water; and three hours of heat, steam, cold, peppermint tea, and stories about Estonian traditions.
After a bit more driving, we reached Vihula Manor Country Club & Spa, our base for the next two nights. It’s an extraordinary place: a restored 16th‑century estate with a long, layered history: once a noble family’s manor, later a Soviet collective farm, now a peaceful countryside retreat surrounded by forest and frozen ponds. My room was enormous, with a slanted ceiling, a comfortable bed, a couple of easy chairs, and a much needed shower!
We ended the night with dinner in the manor’s restaurant. While breakfasts and lunches were all included in the trip cost, evening meals were pay-as-you-go bar one. This one was incredibly tasty – if not slightly more fancy than my usual adventure trip meals! By the time I walked back to my room across the frosty courtyard, I felt that deep, satisfying tiredness that only comes from being outdoors all day. Day one had been full, physical, and really fun. An excellent start.
Day 2: Forest Snowshoeing, Hotel Spa, Night Hike
Carrying my Snowshoes
Our one full day in Lahemaa began with the luxury of leaving the big bags behind. I packed my daypack with layers and snacks, ready for a long snowshoe hike through the forest to the beach. Alas, there’s a reason I’ve put “snow” in brackets in the title of this article – there wasn’t much of it left. Enough to call it winter, certainly, but not enough to justify tennis rackets strapped to our feet.
In the end, we only needed the snowshoes for about 10-15 minutes: a short, fun stretch of deep, soft snow where they actually made sense. The rest of the time they clattered uselessly against everything as we carried them through forest, bog, over fallen trees, and along narrow tracks. I should have packed a couple of bungees to attach them to my pack.
Even without the flappy shoes, the three‑hour hike was a beautiful sensory wander through Estonia’s wild early‑spring landscape. We crossed mossy patches that bounced underfoot, stepped over narrow creeks, balanced along fallen logs, and paused often to examine wildlife signs; Ray and Anton pointed out moose tracks, the distinctive chiselling of a black woodpecker, even claw marks Anton said might belong to a bear. The forest felt ancient and quiet, a place where sound is absorbed rather than echoed.
Eventually the trees thinned and we emerged onto a frozen beach. A vast, pale expanse where the Baltic had iced over in smooth, wide sheets; one of the most striking landscapes I’ve ever seen. Cold, stark, otherworldly. I stood on the ice‑covered sand with the waves calmly lapping against my boots, feeling a deep sense of peace and tranquillity.
Happiness in a Campfire
Having rounded off the loop with a particularly picturesque walk back through the forest – less weaving this time, but no less beautiful – it was time for our next activity: lunch, cooked outdoors in the heart of the woods. We gathered beneath a wooden shelter beside a large, raised community firepit, set in a clearing by a river. The setting was part peaceful wilderness escape, part low‑budget horror film, but with enough new friends around me that the latter didn’t stand a chance.
Within minutes I’d relaxed completely. I was outside, I’d had a lovely hike, food was promised, and we were going to make fire. When Anton asked who wanted to build and light it, of course I volunteered – a task that always feels both primitive and deeply satisfying. Once the flames were going, he guided us through making a pot of lentil soup, to be served with Estonian bread and cheese spread, followed by little fat sausages roasted on sticks, and bananas stuffed with chocolate cooked in the embers.
It began to rain as we cooked and ate, but I didn’t care. We drifted between the shelter and the fire, ate soup from metal bowls, and laughed at how impossible it is to roast a sausage evenly. The bananas emerged molten and sweet, the chocolate melted into a gooey mess that unlocked a whole drawer of childhood campfire memories. It was simple, yes, but wonderful. A small, perfect pause in the middle of the forest, warmed by fire, food, and easy company.
Heat and Cold as Therapy
Back at Vihula Manor, we had a stretch of downtime before dinner. I’d felt steady all day; tired in a good way, soothed by movement, fresh air, and the simple joy of that frozen beach and smoky campfire. But a difficult phone call back in my room knocked me sideways. A sharp reminder of the real life I’d briefly stepped away from, and of why I’d booked this trip in the first place: to find breathing space in nature.
I took myself to the hotel spa, tucked quietly beneath the manor’s old beams. The sauna was exactly what I needed, the heat softening the edges of my thoughts, and a cold plunge bracing enough to shock everything into momentary silence. No one around me knew what that phone call had stirred up, and that anonymity felt like a kindness. I didn’t need conversation, I needed peace.
I moved between heat and cold until my breathing slowed and my shoulders dropped, and even swam a few lengths in the pool. It wasn’t a fix, but it helped. Sometimes that’s enough.
It’s no secret I’ve fallen in love with sauna culture over the last six months, and while this one wasn’t a lakeside horsebox or a smoke‑filled hut worthy of a full Sauna Stories entry, it was exactly what I needed in that moment. More health‑club than wild sauna, but lovely all the same. And I didn’t smell of bog water like the previous day!
Hiking by Lantern Light
Dinner that evening was at a local restaurant owned by an Estonian TV chef – the grilled meat-based dishes were hearty and comforting. It was good fuel for our nighttime nature walk, which was our final activity of the day. I’ll admit I wasn’t convinced I’d enjoy it more than simply going to bed, but it turned out to be one of the unexpected highlights of the trip.
Bundled in every layer I’d brought, I took of one of the oil lanterns provided, its soft circle of light bobbing on the forest path, and followed Anton into the trees. He and Ray told stories as we walked: old village traditions, how people here lived off the sea, the rhythms of Estonian life shaped by the contrast of long winters and proper summers. The forest felt different at night, quieter, more intimate, as if we were borrowing it for a few hours.
By the time we reached the coast, our eyes had fully adjusted. The sky was filled with stars, the waves rolling in with a steady hush, and the air smelt of pine and salt. We shifted between lively conversation and complete silence, each of us taking in the strangeness and beauty of walking through a dark forest guided only by lantern light. Underfoot it was tricky thanks to the same refrozen ice we’d battled on the kick‑sleds, but it was worth each careful step.
On the way back we stopped at a traditional village swing, a huge wooden structure built for festivals. And by the time we completed the loop, it struck me how long the day had been: morning to night, almost entirely outdoors. Hard work, fresh air, good food, peaceful moments, unexpected joy. That’s the kind of day that stays with you.
Part 3: Fat Biking, Igloo Sauna, Return to Tallinn
Fat Bikes and Ice Cream
I woke up on day three feeling every minute of the previous day. It was gone midnight when we finally got back to our rooms, and the alarm felt… optimistic. But breakfast at the hotel was excellent (strong tea and an extensive buffet), and after packing up, we piled back into the van for another day of wintery Estonian fun.
We returned to the same outdoor sports centre where we’d kick‑sledded on the first day, and were handed Trek fat bikes: wide‑tyred, sturdy, and surprisingly heavy. The forest trails were off‑limits thanks to the thaw‑freeze cycle, which had turned them into a mix of ice sheets and ankle‑deep mud. So, Anton rerouted us into the nearby village for ice cream. Honestly? While disappointed I wouldn’t be taking this hunk of a bike deep into the wilderness, it was an inspired decision. And not only because my last mountain‑bike experience ended… ungracefully.
We pedalled along the cycle path, wind in our faces, legs protesting at the headwind, until we reached a shop. I don’t know if it was the effort, the cold, or the sheer absurdity of eating ice cream in early March, but it was perfect – sweet and silly in equal measure. My kind of adventure.
Ice creams demolished, we continued to a short but absolutely stunning nature trail where we left the bikes and walked the mile‑long boardwalk loop. Somewhere along the way, Anton mentioned Estonia’s 360km Oandu–Ikla hiking route. A seed planted. Maybe.
Thankfully the wind didn’t change direction, and we had a tail wind for the return trip to the centre. The soundtrack this time was one of giggles, which was ridiculously good for the soul. We all need more childlike wonder as adults, I reckon.
Igloo Sauna
Our final sauna experience of the Much Better Adventures trip took place beside a frozen lake – a wide, pale sheet of ice stretching out from the shore, the air sharp enough to sting your nose. The igloo sauna itself was a curved structure perched on a deck on the bank, warm and glowing from within. Compared to the smoke sauna, it felt lighter and brighter, eras more modern. But with no less personality.
The cute low building had two rooms – the sauna itself, with just about enough room for all nine of us at a squeeze, and a space for changing and relaxing. The main feature was that the side overlooking the lake was glazed, a picture window that made this a very outdoorsy-feeling place to sit. From the sauna bench I could sit and enjoy the view and watch my group-mates take on the cold plunge.
Said plunge was a hole cut into the lake beside a floating pontoon, and the water was so cold it felt like stepping into electricity. I dipped multiple times, each one a jolt that left my skin buzzing. The star of the show was Ray, who – in a moment of pure drama – swam under the ice sheet and popped up through another opening like a triumphant seal. We all cheered, half impressed, half horrified.
Of all the sauna sessions, this was the one I enjoyed most physically: the rhythm of heat and cold, the laughter, the shared ridiculousness of it all. But culturally, the smoke sauna still wins, thanks to the depth of the story that it told.
Back to Tallinn
Our last evening together was gentle, almost muted. We returned to Tallinn, checked back into the same hotel as the first night, and met for a final dinner in the centre of the old town. We ate traditional Estonian dishes, enjoyed warm conversation, but it was of slightly anticlimactic farewell that happens when everyone is tired.
Afterwards, we wandered to the Depeche Mode Bar, which is exactly what it sounds like: a shrine to the band, dimly lit, slightly surreal, and oddly perfect as a final stop for the group. I didn’t stay long, I was far too tired for a ‘night out’ and it’s not my thing anyway, but it was fun in its briefness.
The following morning, I had a few quiet hours before my ferry to Helsinki (more on that in part three). After a long and slow breakfast in the hotel’s basement restaurant with a couple of my new friends, I wandered for miles along Tallinn’s medieval walls, through parks still edged with frost, past towers and cobbled streets that looked different now that I’d spent days in Estonia’s forests and lakes. Tallinn really is a lovely city, worth a visit if you’re looking for city break options sometime, I barely scratched the surface in terms of things to do – you could easily fill a long weekend exploring.
On Much Better Adventures
This Snow and Saunas trip was my first experience with Much Better Adventures, and it set the bar high. I’d heard good things – small groups, thoughtful itineraries, a focus on local guides and meaningful experiences – but it was reassuring to see how well all of that translated in real life. For a short trip, it was impressively full: waterfalls, forests, beaches, saunas, and more. It felt like a week’s worth of variety condensed into three very full days, without ever tipping into overwhelm.
A huge part of that was Anton, our guide. Calm, organised, quietly funny, and deeply knowledgeable, he made our group of strangers feel instantly at ease. He told stories with warmth and clarity, always reading the mood of the group. And then there was Ray, whose under‑ice swim during the igloo sauna session deserves a special mention – equal parts impressive and unhinged, and exactly the kind of moment that becomes group folklore.
As for the activities, I loved it all, not least the long forest hike, the campfire lunch, the igloo sauna, and the night walk under the stars. What I appreciated most was how physical the days were without being competitive, movement for the sake of being outdoors, not for performance. New skills, new landscapes, new small challenges that felt good to rise to. It was a thoughtfully balanced itinerary, full without being frantic, and it left me feeling like I’d genuinely made the most of my time in Estonia.
I’d book another. In fact, I already have – I’ll be joining a second MBA trip later in the year, and I’m already looking forward to more of the same.
Reflections on Estonia
I booked this trip almost by accident. I’d been looking for a relaxing week away in March, but was tempted by the promise of a last slice of winter, the lure of saunas, and the idea of simple, safe adventures with an organised group. And it delivered. It was structured enough to hold me, but spacious enough to let me breathe, which was exactly what I needed.
Estonia turned out to be the perfect place for that. There was a gentleness to Lahemaa National Park, even in early March when everything was half‑frozen and half‑thawing. I fell in love with the lime‑green mossy bog forests; soft, spongy landscapes that look almost enchanted. And that ice‑covered sandy beach is an image I’ll carry for a long time.
Tallinn, too, surprised me. I’d expected a medieval postcard; I hadn’t expected the warmth, the stories, the layers of history that Anton revealed on that first evening walk. And Vihula Manor, with its quiet courtyards and centuries‑old buildings, felt like a small world of its own, a place to reset, to rest, to remember what it feels like to be fully present.
This trip was physical, cultural, emotional, and it met me exactly where I was. It reminded me that movement helps, that nature helps, that being around good people helps. And that resilience isn’t always loud; sometimes it’s built step by step through forests, across frozen beaches, and in the quiet heat of a sauna.
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