The sun beams through the hut windows. This I didn't expect. I am 40 miles from the village of Sirkka, which is home to the Levi ski resort, host of the coming World Cup ski championships. Each day I seem to have grown more weary, my muscles aching a little more at the end of the day. I have one more ride left in me, and today will be it. When I reach Sirkka I will have completed a grand loop around Lapland.
The route takes me back into the dreaded fells, the high hills in Lapland. But with the sun out they, at first, do not seem as bad as before. The forest here is brimming with reindeer, and they seem to be out in force today to say good-bye. The herd includes an elusive white one that prances like a ghost through the dark woods. By mid-day what had been a nice morning begins to deteriorate. Clouds move swiftly in from the east. To lighten my load I am only carrying a little food. By noon this is gone. I stop the bike and wander into the woods. The forest has a bumper crop of huckleberries, and like a hungry bear I paw through the thickets, eating away.
In the last 10 miles I am vaguely aware that there will be no more big rides with a load. I've done my 2,200 miles. I've accomplished what I set out to do. But it seems as if the cascade of events, the nonstop stimulus of adventures, has worn my brain out. When I ride now I cannot sustain a thought for long; not even a decent day dream about how nice it would to roll back into Helsinki or to sleep in my own bed and not worry about moving every day. My thoughts are scattered fragments, and these are followed by blankness. It is as if my brain is too tired to function. I see the asphalt and trees. I hear only the distant rustle of pine boughs. As Tommy observed yesterday the birds are gone and so are their songs. The tips of the birch have turned yellow. The purple fireweed blossoms are now withered brown seed stalks, the pinks and blues of the lupine are only a memory. Only the hearty yarrow is still in bloom. Every day it gets colder.
When I finally crawl into Sirkka, I know I have done it, but I cannot feel it. The long journey has sucked the emotion away from my body.
I need to rest.
I rent an entire house;, four bedrooms, sauna, fireplace, big kitchen and enough room to rummage around for a few days. It is over. After returning from the store with food and a couple of cans of Karjala beer, I unlock the key to my home for the next three nights and try to put in perspective what has just happened.
The route takes me back into the dreaded fells, the high hills in Lapland. But with the sun out they, at first, do not seem as bad as before. The forest here is brimming with reindeer, and they seem to be out in force today to say good-bye. The herd includes an elusive white one that prances like a ghost through the dark woods. By mid-day what had been a nice morning begins to deteriorate. Clouds move swiftly in from the east. To lighten my load I am only carrying a little food. By noon this is gone. I stop the bike and wander into the woods. The forest has a bumper crop of huckleberries, and like a hungry bear I paw through the thickets, eating away.
In the last 10 miles I am vaguely aware that there will be no more big rides with a load. I've done my 2,200 miles. I've accomplished what I set out to do. But it seems as if the cascade of events, the nonstop stimulus of adventures, has worn my brain out. When I ride now I cannot sustain a thought for long; not even a decent day dream about how nice it would to roll back into Helsinki or to sleep in my own bed and not worry about moving every day. My thoughts are scattered fragments, and these are followed by blankness. It is as if my brain is too tired to function. I see the asphalt and trees. I hear only the distant rustle of pine boughs. As Tommy observed yesterday the birds are gone and so are their songs. The tips of the birch have turned yellow. The purple fireweed blossoms are now withered brown seed stalks, the pinks and blues of the lupine are only a memory. Only the hearty yarrow is still in bloom. Every day it gets colder.
When I finally crawl into Sirkka, I know I have done it, but I cannot feel it. The long journey has sucked the emotion away from my body.
I need to rest.
I rent an entire house;, four bedrooms, sauna, fireplace, big kitchen and enough room to rummage around for a few days. It is over. After returning from the store with food and a couple of cans of Karjala beer, I unlock the key to my home for the next three nights and try to put in perspective what has just happened.
3 comments:
I know you can, I know you can.
Tickets for the SJS-Stanford game await your return
Hey, Bob!
Has anyone told you lately how aMAZing you are?
Vaya Con Dios; l'hit ra'ot
Buy yourself an embroidered Karjala "fishing" cap that says, Vahvasti Suomalainen" (powerful Finn). You may qualify as one after this trip, after all Grandma was Finnish(?). I feel a theme for the book, and it isn't sunshine and flowers. How about absorbing some Finnish music before you return. Finland has more music in the schools than any other country (and more flower shops per capita?). That could brighten up the book.
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