On Roads Not Taken: A Canadian Bicycling the Backroads of Finland by JDT It was ten o’clock, and the day’s sun was still above the horizon of tall Finish pines behind my tent, perched precipiticiously between a country road and one of the many lakes which defines the middle portion of Finland. My trusty steed, a 21-speed hybrid rented in Helskini, was locked to a tree nearby, and remnents of a canned dinner on a tree stump. Tuna fish again. The Finns have their way with trees: In my first day of cycling from Jyväskylä, I was somewhat bewildered by the dichotemy of the Finns and their tall friends. Protected by large tracts of fenced forest, their beauty and resiliance to harsh winter weather is enforced, while adjacent lots feature huge clear-cuts, shortly followed along the road by a whirling paper mill spewing out acrid fumes into the otherwise clean air. It was a scene to be often repeated throughout my 5-day solo bicycle-adventure camping journey. Early August in Scandanavia can feature highly variable weathereverything from cold sleet to scorching sun, and this uncertainty makes bicycling or camping a luck-based adventure- this time luck was on my side, and one day of awsome travel weather gave way to another. My adventure began some days earlier as I arrived in Helsinki on a Finair flight from Toronto, a voyage in and of itself. I soared over the visible granite of Newfoundland, glaciers of Greenland, forests of Iceland, and mountains of Norway, then welcomed to a new land. That of fine wooden furniture and reindeer, and greeted by the masses of model-like blond-haired Finns and a modern and efficient airport. A few calls around re-adjusted my expectations: of the several bike rental shops in this capital city, all but one carried only basic no-speed bikes, and Greenbike had only one hybrid for rent- but it was mine. Likely the only proper touring bike for rent in all of Finland! An easy 3 hour train ride to Jyväskylä with bike in tow proved to be more than just transportation. I met Anna-Maria, a few years my junior, from whom I learned the basics of the incomprrehensible Finnish language and the nuances of words like beauty and sorrow, and to whom I continue to write to this day. Finnish is most often compared to Hungarian but actually bears little resemblance to any language, which makes any attempt at learning but a few basic words a formidable task. Anna-Maria helped me get over that a bit. Unfortunately, she wasn’t up to a bicycle adventure and so we parted ways at the train station as I loaded up my bike and headed out to the open road, her address in my pocket. The roads of central Finland wend their way between more lakes than forests, with terrain remincent of northern Québec; but it is often the inhabitants of a region which define the region itself: From the rural bakery serving hard-as-stone dark bread and nary a word of English spoken, to the bustling markets in cities based around pulp mills. Sign language is international, and the Finns were very willing to be entertained by the antics of a hungry Canadian, alone on his bike, loaded with 35 pounds of camping gear. As I rode, I munched on the bread I had bought earlier- sliced into wafer-thin sheets, I could just bite through it, and needed plenty of water to wash it down. I couldn’t even finish the small loaf, and it probably took on a new life as a home for some small creature. My first night was spent near Rautalampi, no more than a scattering of houses representing a dot on a map, but it was my first opportunity to experience the late-night sun and biting insects, and the serene waters of Finnish lakes, not yet warmed by the summer sun. I was all set for an evening swim when I inspected the water’s edge and was horrified to discover a leech family at my toes, and decided a quick jog would be much more fun. The next day of about 100km meandered along a portion of dirt road, pitted and soiled by local cattle, but brought a reward in return: Fields of fresh strawberries ripe for the picking beckoned, and wild blueberries the size of peas at the roadside were worthy of several stops. A wild hare ran across the road. I arrived in the three-mill town of Varkaus and opted for the luxurious camping accommodations in the shadow of a smoke stack. A town market proved entertaining and a great opportunity to purchase some fresh sugar-snap peas, as good in Finland as in Canada. Kiitos käynnistä. The cars rushed by, but were quite considerate of a lone cyclist straddling the fog line on these roads without shoulders. After a chilly 10ºC night, I was enroute to the cultural highlight of my trip, the town of Savonlinna, home of the famous Olavinlinna Castle, and host of equally important operatic and beer festivals. The castle was founded in 1475 and had endured repeated domination by Swedish and Russian forces, each modifying as they saw fit, producing a hodge-podge of stone and wood. The modern floating bridge was architecturally interesting and functional should boats need to pass. After a guided tour of the castle halls, clouds appeared from nowhere, opened, and heavy rain fell. I took refuge in a coffee shop and commiserated with fellow tourists on the negative turn in the weather, but this was temporary and clear skies prevailed for the remainer of the trip. For travelers on a budget, Finland offers many roadside stores with basic food items at reasonable prices, making a trip to a restaurant an unnecessary luxury. At the campground in Savonlinna, I met two German girls on a bike trip of their own, striking westwards, and we shared stories of similar experiences. Seeing how many ways you could pronounce place-names on road signs is a great way to pass the miles of road, and pretend you are learning Finnish. The campground sauna, a temple of Scandanavian identity, was a welcome diversion, although the popular roll-in-the-snow wasn’t possible, but a cool dip in the lake was invigorating enough. I was sure to check for leeches first. Not long ago, on a geological time scale, glaciers moved though the region creating lakes and pushing land around. The longest glacial ridge in the world, the 7km Punkaharju Ridge, was formed surrounded by water and now carries a narrow asphalt road bordered by mature pines. It remains as a testament to the ubiquitous human impact on the natural features of the landscape. Imatra loomed ahead, an easy 130km ride with a tail wind and despite the hilly roads. Someone told me that Finland is a flat country, but this person obviously never biked from west to east. The Russian frontier zone was only a short distance to the east and ominous signs with pictographs of dogs and guards lined the roadside. They made it clear that trespassing would not be appreciated. Each major city has its novelty, and the Imatra Falls were no exception. Each night at exactly 7:00pm during the summer months, the dam is opened to release extra water, causing a torrent of rapids to flood the dry riverbed to the enthusiastic response of the crowd gathered on the bridge overhead. Photographs can not do justice to the fury of angry water, free from its concrete grip. My odyssey finished the following day with a short trip to the portal of Lappeenranta and a ceramics exhibit at the local castle. A stop at the town market as my bike odometer turned over 500km, and then a train ride back to Helsinki. The backroads of the Finnish lake region beckon to the independent adventurer and promise to entice with a display of cultural uniqueness and natural beauty.
