My legs are stiff in the morning. I did not slept well. It is another 75 miles to Tampere. Under these conditions, it is important for the Expedition Team to hold to its discipline and use all knowledge acquired during training.
With a stiff upper lip, I scramble out of the tent during a break in the rain, pack the wagon and wet tent, and drag the bike back to the road. I'll have to get coffee later. It is 7 am and not another soul is out. The clouds are thick. A cloying mist falls, keeping everything perfectly damp. With aching legs, I backtrack around the massive lake. The bluebells, yarrow and golden rod that shown so brilliantly in the sunshine yesterday now are dull and gray. I now understand why much of Sibelius's music is dark and moody, reflecing these listless summer days when it seems as if the sun will never shine again. I bike on through a tunnel of trees down a road that disappears into infinity. Signs warn of moose and elk, but I have yet to see one of these beasts though I practically lived like one for the last 24 hours. In two hours I encounter three cars. Outside of the village of Kötliö I pass a church. It is Sunday, but there appears to be no service. I ride through silent, sleeping villages, over hills shaped by glaciers and through flatland fields of potatoes, rye and wheat. A farmer is busy bailing hay in the mist. By 11:30 I have biked almost 30 miles, somehow managing to average 8.5 mph. Outside Huittinen I see a gas station. Gas stations in Finland serve as restaurants, bathrooms, general stores, even hardware stores. I order a cheeseburger in Finnish. For the past two days I have been in an area which sees virtually no foreign travelers, as a consequence no one speaks English.
With a stiff upper lip, I scramble out of the tent during a break in the rain, pack the wagon and wet tent, and drag the bike back to the road. I'll have to get coffee later. It is 7 am and not another soul is out. The clouds are thick. A cloying mist falls, keeping everything perfectly damp. With aching legs, I backtrack around the massive lake. The bluebells, yarrow and golden rod that shown so brilliantly in the sunshine yesterday now are dull and gray. I now understand why much of Sibelius's music is dark and moody, reflecing these listless summer days when it seems as if the sun will never shine again. I bike on through a tunnel of trees down a road that disappears into infinity. Signs warn of moose and elk, but I have yet to see one of these beasts though I practically lived like one for the last 24 hours. In two hours I encounter three cars. Outside of the village of Kötliö I pass a church. It is Sunday, but there appears to be no service. I ride through silent, sleeping villages, over hills shaped by glaciers and through flatland fields of potatoes, rye and wheat. A farmer is busy bailing hay in the mist. By 11:30 I have biked almost 30 miles, somehow managing to average 8.5 mph. Outside Huittinen I see a gas station. Gas stations in Finland serve as restaurants, bathrooms, general stores, even hardware stores. I order a cheeseburger in Finnish. For the past two days I have been in an area which sees virtually no foreign travelers, as a consequence no one speaks English.
"You mean you want a cheeseburger," replies the clerk. "Yes!" I must be nearing the fringe of the known world again. After lunch I pedal on. The day seems to grow colder, the mist thicker, the hills higher. The ach in my legs intensifies. After each rest, my joints stin. I have clearly over-reached and I am paying for it now. At 2 pm I reach the pleasant town of Vammala, which straddles two lakes. I know I cannot pedal the remaining 30 miles. I ride to the other end of town and find a railroad station. Within an hour the conductor is helping to hoist my bike and wagon into the bike car. The electric train zooms off, seemingly at an incredible speed. In Tampere, I fullfill my promise by checking into a single room at the local hostel, and celebrating my arrival with a real restaurant meal.
Today, I rest, after sleeping extremely well. My legs and joints seem to be recovering nicely. Tomorrow, I head north and east, much of it on dirt roads through forest. Tampere is a wonderfull surprise, a beautiful city between two giant lakes. This is where Finland's industrial revolution started, and it's where Lenin sequestered himself for short periods before returning to lead the Russian revolution. In my two days here I'm quite taken by the place. There is a pleasant city square and open-air market on the canal that connects the two giant lakes that hem in the city from the north and south. Slender suspension bridges cross the canal to cobble-stone streets and old restored brick-built woolen mills.
Today, I rest, after sleeping extremely well. My legs and joints seem to be recovering nicely. Tomorrow, I head north and east, much of it on dirt roads through forest. Tampere is a wonderfull surprise, a beautiful city between two giant lakes. This is where Finland's industrial revolution started, and it's where Lenin sequestered himself for short periods before returning to lead the Russian revolution. In my two days here I'm quite taken by the place. There is a pleasant city square and open-air market on the canal that connects the two giant lakes that hem in the city from the north and south. Slender suspension bridges cross the canal to cobble-stone streets and old restored brick-built woolen mills.
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