Among the Sämi

I have limited time so here is the brain dump on the last four days.

Day 1, left Rovaniemi on pleasant day. Surprised that area north of Arctic Circle looks like area south of Arctic Circle; good-sized forests, farms. Encounter headwinds, blowing from the north, that grow in intensity as day progresses. Gusts to 30 mph, makes progress difficult. I put in my 50 miles, then pitch my tent in a farmer's yard converted to a campground on the banks of the Ounsjöki, Finland's largest river.

Day 2, temperature drops about 40 degrees overnight. I don't sleep because it's suddenly so cold. But in the morning I'm thankful that the wind has abated. I make good progress and by mid-afternoon I'm already cycling through the Sämi town of Kittilä. The local campground is deserted. The tiny office is deserted, but a phone is scrawled on a board. I call, no answer. Two men chopping heads off fish in the camground kitchen can't help. I bike back into town. It seems deserted. I find the owner of a guesthouse and rent a room. I am the only guest in the town's only decent restaurant, but the reindeer pasta is good here.

Day 3, rain and 40 miles of dirt-mud road through a wilderness of bog, marsh and forest. I encounter a pair of German cyclists who are familiar with the area. He tells me he's biked here for 15 years and I'm the first American he's ever encountered and one of the few going north. Soon, the Germans have disappeared over a hill. At the last village I enjoy what I suspect will be my last cup of coffee and donut. The days dreary and the rain comes in annoying drizzles. I must pay more attention here to riding because the road is littered with potholes and slick with mud in some places. At first there are many farms, but these give way to forest. Once in awhile there is a log cabin and barking dogs. The road knifes through the forest in a straight line, disappearing over an endless series of hills. There is almost no traffic so I can dodge potholes by weaving to both sides of the road.

I have no idea where I'm going to stay on this night. At 5 pm I come to a bar-knife-thread-and-spool everything store. I am in downtown Pokka (hwy 955), which seems to consist of this building, a few ramshackle cabins and a pen of barking huskies. The barman, a talkative Sämi, talks me into renting his cabin, which I accept as the mosquitoes are voracious here and I'm not eager to pitch camp in the bog. Problem is that the shower is in the women's restroom. "Just lock the door when you take a shower," he tells me. Later than night as the bar fills with drinking men and women, I sneak in to take my shower. There is banging on the door from women yelling in Finnish or Sami (I can't tell which). I assume they are yelling at me to hurry up or get out or why is a man in the woman's bathroom, anyway. I hurry to dress and flee into the woods back to my little cabin, forgetting to take my only bar of soap.

Day 4. To ease my load, I resdistributed the wagon's weight. I worry about the stress on the beleaguered axle, and worry about how it will survive more ruts and holes in the mud track. But I'm also running out of food. Need to reach Inari today or else. Not far from Pokka the road turns to asphalt. I pass through moors, the forest dwindles. I pass many big reindeer, including white ones. They are shy here, will stare at me until I get close, then trot in front of the bike about 20 yards. They scatter into the forest when I try to get close for a picture. This is the area of the great reindeer round-ups of yesteryear, a vast forest and bog in which the reindeer roam and eat. By noon, the infamous fells come into sight. They appear on the horizon as low lying hills. There is no way around them. They are the biggest obstacle between me and the Arctic Sea. At first the grade is easy, but the road continues to go up and up, steeper and steeper. At the highest fell I do a foolish thing and challenge myself to try to climb it in my lowest gear. This is a mistake. I reach the top and encounter three forest workers with binders and clipboards. One speaks a few words of English. I ask if there are more hills. They don't sugar coat the news here. "Yes, there are more hills," she replies, as I drip with perspiration. On subsequent hills, I begin to feel pain in the tendon of my left knee. By mid afternoon it is very painful to pedal, especially up hill. On one of the last fells I am attacked by a cloud of stinging flying ants. I am stung on the back of the neck. This takes my mind off my painful left tendon. I limp into Inari in the early evening, buy a beer, rent a cabin and collapse. Today I rode 70 miles one on leg over the hills of bicycle death. I'm three days from the polar sea.

Day 5, Inäri. I'm resting today, visiting the Sämi museum and hiking. The knee muscle is only hurtful when biking. Another dull and dismal day, light rain constant. I have bike out on a muddy road to the trailhead leading three miles into the woods to the Sami Wilderness Church dating from the 18th Century. The trail leads into the forest and disappears. Big gray-black clouds seem to be bearing down on Inari. No hiking for me today, I decide, and turn back, arriving at my cabin just before the downpour begins. I'm getting better at dodging storms. I'm don't remember the last sunny day. Was it Rovaniemi?

My time is up. Hopefully, not too many typos.