It was just as I was standing on the edge of a swampy forest looking for the right spot where I would spend my first night on the road that I could really understand why in Finland they annually organize mosquito killing competitions. All my fingers, both palms and hands were flying in all directions trying to ward off the nasty tiny blood-sucking insects. As I begun fiddling with my tent trying to set it up, the situation became even worse. I was trying to pay more attention to the tent, but what I was doing resembled juggling with invisible objects more than anything I’d actually tried to do.

And I was very much aware that I am probably not even getting close to the worst of what mosquitos can offer when they gather in large quantities. I couldn’t have possibly imagined what must it feel like to do anything in Lappland in July, both the right place and time for a mosquito paradise. And considering that I’ve slapped only about 50 or so in the last half an hour, I probably couldn’t even qualify for the first round of any insect swatting competition anywhere.

The first day of my cycling trip to Koli area was almost over. I have only a very rough idea of how I want to get there and what I want to see on this trip. However, it might just as well be that the whole trip itself was a very good excuse for me to go cycling. It’s the journey that matters much more than the actual destination.

If everything had gone according to plan I came up with while I was surprisingly enough, lying on the bed at home in Kuopio one evening, then right now I’d been setting my tent somewhere very close to the town of Juuka. Incredibly enough, getting from point A to point B by dragging a finger on the map seems to be much easier then when you actually set out to cycle there. Juuka is situated on the eastern shore of lake Pielinen and is not very far from Koli national park. But it was already 8 o’clock in the evening and being some 30 kilometers away from Juuka, there was no way I’d reach it while the sun was still up. So I decided to camp close to the hamlet of Kajoo.

I’ve been dreaming about a cycling trip like this for about two months how. All I’ve been waiting for was the right opportunity to go. The weather had to be right, bike had to function properly and I needed enough time. And during those two months preparations were almost all the time under way. The biggest challenge was fixing the bike, as first of all I did not even know what exactly needed fixing. All I knew was that there were too many clicking and squeaking sounds a bike shouldn’t be making at all. Now, I really don’t know anything about fixing bikes so this great source on bike technicalities helped me immensely. After getting all kinds of different special wrenches, nuts and bolts, I finally fixed it the night before I took off. It’s not difficult to imagine you shaking your head thinking “This is not too smart, pal.” I know, I was skeptical myself. But then again, what the heck, I’ll see on the road how good of a job I’ve done.

Physically I haven’t undergone any particular preparations either. Sure, I still run now and then, but not being in good shape did not prevent me from going anywhere anytime earlier either. So I’d merrily spend several evenings sitting in front of a map making really bold plans. 180 kilometers the first day sounded quite right and it didn’t look that far either. After sitting around all day, eating warm dinner and 180 km being there on a piece of paper, that is. But being actually on the road cycling the whole day, being hungry, those 180 km turned out to be something completely different. Sure there were no mountain passes on the way and there won’t be any to come, not anywhere near to where I’m going, but it’s not like I’m cycling in the Netherlands either. It’s rolling hills all the time. And when I say all the time, I truly mean all the time.

Another issue was cycling with panniers. Lifting up the back of the bike with all that luggage attached to it just two minutes before departure was not too encouraging as I could barely lift the damn thing. How in the world am I going to cycle hundreds of kilometers with this? It didn’t sound like fun at all. There was no way I’d cycle 180 kilometers the first day. I didn’t even want to weigh the whole thing. It simply ceased to matter as there was absolutely no way I could have taken less things with me than I did. And I proved to be right on that upon my return home, as of all the things I’ve taken along there was only one long sleeved T-shirt which I have not used. Everything else was in use at least a few times during the trip.

Raindrops hitting the window glass woke me up on the morning of departure. At that point I was still convinced that I’ll just have to delay my trip for another day or two. But as I was reading the paper and eating breakfast, sky begun clearing up a bit. I packed my stuff as quickly as I could and left around noon. The feeling of going on a trip without any particular constraints other then those linked to my personal fitness is probably one of the most liberating feelings of all. Cycling gives a sense of liberty.

Although I might have felt free of the usual everyday concerns, new ones started haunting me all too soon. Not even an hour into the ride a storm was approaching so quickly that my attempts to escape it turned out to be rather futile. Even though I did try riding faster, I knew I’d loose this game. Rain, or rather, large buckets of water were poured on me by the time I reached the Puutossalmi’s cable ferry some 25 kilometers south of Kuopio. Even though I wore my poncho I was wet through and through by the time I stepped of the ferry only a few minutes later.

Not minding the rain too much, I was wondering more about just how well the public transportation is organized in Finland. True, in some places city buses are absurdly expensive and you’d be paying 5,2€ for a single ride, but then there are also such absurdities as cable ferries, or lossi, as they are called around here, which are free of charge. They are considered a public service. You can actually think of it as a moving bridge: they operate 24 hours a day and if the cable-pulled ferry is not on your side of the shore when you want to cross, you ring the bell and there it comes. Probably the most famous one is Föri in Turku, which has been in operation since 1903 and was originally powered by a steam engine. In Turku lossi transports people between the banks of the Aura river, but they can be found all around Finland.

Cycling in Finland is great. There are lots of cycling routes, maps are well made and pretty much all roads are in good enough shape and extremely well marked. Unless you’re daydreaming or go on a trip without a map, there’s almost no way you could get lost. Well, maybe you’d still do just fine even without a map, although meticulous following of small brown signs carrying a bike pictogram with an arrow and a number would be a must. These carefully placed signs mark the national cycling network around the country and are to be found everywhere. I remember wondering about them even before I was aware that such a network is maintained when I spotted quite a few in Jyväskylä a couple of years ago.

Finland might be sparsely populated country, but you’d be amazed to see that not even a few kilometers go by without at least one building visible from the road. Before I set off I thought I’d be alone on the road, but I couldn’t be more wrong. Traffic was sparse, but there was just enough of it to feel safe in case something goes wrong on the road.

As kilometers went by the landscape hardly changed at all. Forest on the left, forest on the right for as far as the eye could see. Only occassionally there was a meadow, a pasture or a lake interrupting this incredibly regular pattern. But it sure made me cycle like crazy. With every single hill I climbed and turn I took I awaited with anticipation possible unseen landscape feature around every turn. But to no avail. All the time it felt like I was cycling around the lake and over the hill.

And there I was, 130 km away from home, sitting by the tent, eating and trying to catch the last rays of light on spread out map, making big plans for tomorrow.

Mladen

This is the second part of the Koli cycling trip series. Here you can find the first, third and fourth parts.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 27th, 2007 at 3:24 pm and is filed under Cycling, Environment, Finland, Leisure, Travelogue. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.