Is this Michigan city the most Finnish place in the U.S.?

Michigan’s remote, northern Keweenaw Peninsula can sometimes feel a bit more Nordic than stereotypically Midwestern.

For starters, there’s the landscape: A glaciated terrain littered with colonnades of pine and birch that line their way to a craggy coastline, where high winds bellow from unpredictable waters. Summers are cool and bright, winters harsh with sign-high mountains of snow. Then, there’s the literal connection. Stroll through a town like Hancock, and you’ll see as many Finnish flags as American flags. They’re painted on mailboxes and flying in front of houses. Even the street signs are written in both languages.

This year, Hancock and the faraway peninsula has been named the 2026 Finno-Ugric Capital of Culture, the first such city outside of Europe to earn such an honor. In fact, more people of Finnish descent live here than anywhere else in the United States, and their heritage isn’t some faded memory, but it’s actively present and part of the culture. 

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“Our region stood out because we don’t act Finnish. We are Finnish,” says David Maki, director of the Finnish American Heritage Center and editor of the Finnish American Reporter in Hancock. “We’ve always been this way. The culture is about as authentic as it can be, considering it’s now several generations removed from those Finns who brought it here.”

From the sauna obsession to the enduring sisu philosophy (a mindset based on perseverance), Juhannus celebrations (or, Midsummer), and folkloric pelimanni concerts, Hancock and the Keweenaw are serving up a taste of Finland you won’t find elsewhere in the country.

The start of the Finnish in Michigan

The first wave of Finnish immigrants to the Keweenaw Peninsula arrived in the mid-to-late 1800s to work in Keweenaw’s copper mines. At the time, these mines were a literal smelting pot powering America’s (and, to an extent, the world’s) industrial revolution, where the region’s prized copper was used to electrify houses, cars, stores, and factories.

To experience what life was like for those early laborers, Quincy Mine—the same employer who brought over the area’s first Finnish workers—is one of many mines part of the Keweenaw National Historical Park that offers a glimpse into their daily hardships. Led by expert guides and historians like Clayton Gomez, Quincy Mine’s chief interpretation officer, tour groups can venture deep into the bowels of Keweenaw Mountains, 350-feet underground, and witness the damp, dark conditions in which these miners worked for 10-hours a day, six days a week at a meager rate of $2 a day. Clayton switches off the dim electric lights, leaving just a single lit candle and explains, “this is all the light the miners had to work down here.” He mimics the hammering, hoisting, and cart-loading they endured—where death and injuries were far too common. 

Still today, there’s a ton of copper embedded in the Keweenaw, but mining ceased in the mid-20th-century because it was cheaper elsewhere. Towns shrank. People left. Except for one group.

“I like to say, the Finns came here because they had to,” says Maki. “They stayed here because they wanted to.”

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Sisu and sauna: A culture of fortitude

Sisu is the Finnish concept of perseverance and resilience, and this spirit is alive and well in the Keweenaw today. From the unforgiving winters where temperatures dip to minus 40°F and snow piles up high to the hundreds of miles of far-off trails where you can get lost in nature, you can experience sisu yourself by enduring the peninsula’s wild expanses—oftentimes in perfect silence.

One such set of trails are the Maasto Hiito Trails. Meaning “cross country skiing” in Finnish, Maasto Hiito encompasses roughly 15 miles of backcountry trails, and the area is meant to be enjoyed in complete silence. Whether hiking, cross country skiing, snowshoeing, or mountain biking, slowly stride through the thickets of pine, birch, and maple trees. Between each huff-and-puff, breathe in the balsamic air and drift off in the forest’s meditative stillness.

While trails like Maasto Hiito, Swedetown, or the routes at Bare Bluff, Mount Baldy, Estivant Pines, and Montreal Falls offer unparalleled access to forests (and stunning panoramas), sisu can also be found while fishing (or ice fishing) on a lake or ice skating on the inland lakes, ponds, and bays that connect to Lake Superior. That’s all in addition to tamer pursuits like dog sledding, kayaking, or chasing the northern lights, which can be seen here year-round.

Working together with sisu is the sauna, Finland’s most prominent export and the only Finnish word in the English dictionary. Sauna is the physical manifestation of nurturing sisu, where intense heat and frigid plunges reinforce this mental fortitude to handle discomfort and results in the relaxing release endorphins.

Takka Saunas offers the perfect respite from northern Michigan’s ruggedness. Run by husband and wife duo Jason and Lynn Makela, Takka Saunas revives this rich Finnish tradition on the shores of Lake Superior and Portage Lake.

“We’re trying to bring back the community practice and aspect of people going for a sauna,” says Jason. “We want to be a place people go after snow shoeing or skiing or if they’re hanging out at the bar and having a wood-fired pizza, they can go take a sauna too.”

The Makela’s Portage operation consists of three saunas, two cold plunges, a warming fire pit, as well as a bar for your pre-, during, or post-sweat. In winter, you can substitute the cold plunge with a dunk in a snow bank or, for a more traditional experience, a polar plunge into the frozen lake during the Finnish festival Heikinpäivä. 

“We really like bringing people together,” says Lynn. “We know not everyone’s excited about jumping into a hot, hot room, especially with others, but we joke that they arrive here an introvert and leave an extrovert." 

Fostering a Finnish community

As much of today’s Finnish-speaking community has aged out, it has become important for many to preserve age-old customs in the region. For starters, you have restaurants like Suomi (the Finnish name for Finland), where chef-owners Kelly Etapa and Jamie Puuri sling out Finnish breakfast comforts like pannukakku, a dense, custardy pancake served with homemade raspberry jam, and nisu, a braided, sweet cardamom bread similar to a cinnamon roll. Just outside Hancock, Finland-native Riikka Hepokoski invites guests to her family’s farmstead for a more pastoral experience into Finnish culture—think berry picking and baking breads. An unofficial guardian of Finnish heritage here, Hepokoski also sells her homemade breads and cookies like karelion pie, dark rye break, and cardamom bread at the local farmer’s market where Finnish-Americans young and old seek out her recipes.

“People are not trying to be Finnish. They’re not trying to build fake houses that look like Finland, but it’s more that people have an inherent Finnish-ness somehow,” says Hepokoski. “They’re trying to embrace that culture. There’s no costume on it.”

At the Finnish American Heritage Center, David Maki and his team are documenting and preserving Finnish-American registrars and presenting an array of cultural programs to those eager to learn more about their heritage. In addition to the speakers and workshops is the Finnish American Folk School, where locals and visitors alike can learn traditional Finnish dance, music, weaving, sweater-knitting, the language, canoe building, and even learn how to make (and play) folkloric instruments like the jouhikko, a horsehair-stringed lyre.

“The mission of the school is to focus on heritage and cultural preservation,” says Clare Zuraw, director of the Finnish American Folk School. “My approach, personally, is thinking about how those skills and that culture continues to thrive and to find new ways in a more contemporary setting.”

The folk school’s focus is so intertwined with Finland that many of the artisans have done cultural exchanges in Finland to find new ways to preserve the traditional arts. Some classes are so niche that they are literally the only workshops available in North America, and the school is so renowned among Finnish-Americans (and enthusiasts) that many have traveled across the country to attend classes.

“Sure, we are promoting Finnish heritage,” says Zuraw. “But community connections are happening. I think that’s the magic of being in this small town. People come to visit from far away and they feel welcome. We’re not only for the people who live here, but also the people who come and want to be part of this little community, even if it’s just for a short time.”

(Escape the crowds at the lower 48’s most remote national park)