What the hell?

Say what?
Irene went hiking. In the woods. Not the sanitized Disney-version. A bonafied, certifiable excursion with nature. Degree of difficulty deemed,” Quite demanding.” In the understatement of the year, the trail we traversed included rapids, hanging bridges, swamps and steep cliffs. A diverse terrain indeed. (And that is the last time we leave Tarja alone to make decisions.)

Added Emphasis on the words “hanging bridges”
Just confirming you saw that. Read carefully. I’m chock full of startling stories. The hanging bridges had signs with stick people, more or less saying 1 person at a time, or else it’s time to say Hallo Water.

And exactly how long of a distance is 12 km?

Too long I tell you. Really long. Especially when it starts raining mid-route. And you can’t turn back. Or reach another shelter for at least an hour. Where are you supposed to go, pray tell, when it starts thundering and lightening creeps across the sky?

Think:
In a forest there are a lot of trees.
Can’t really get away from them now, can you?

We traversed the Pieni Karhu Kierkko (Small Bear Trail) in the Oulanka National Park, which stretches over 270 km2 of unique riverside wilderness. This is on the outskirts of the Kuusamo and Salla municipalties. The lakes flow out to the White Sea. Continuing to copy from the brochure, I know the assorted bodies of water included the following rapids: Niskakoski, Myllykoski, Aaallokkokoski and the Jyrava Waterfall. (Just try saying any one of those names.) From up high we first viewed the Harrisuvanto Still Water. Lurking not far away was the Village of Juuma (which we didn’t start from as we drove from the company cottage).

For the first half, we were dry. Then the sky opened up and we packed ourselves into these awful raincoats that made enough noise to wake the dead. Which I easily could have become, had I fallen far enough. (The trail was often inches away from a precipice, and the distance to the ground/water varied. But let’s just say falling is a bad thing.) My travel companions are all apparently equipped with a gene of the mountain goat variety. Trees, roots, mud, puddles, wet wooden steps, no matter. They quickly and deftly leap across these obstacles as though they were out for a quick jaunt to the corner deli. I, meanwhile, can’t breathe, my legs are on fire, and have the coordination of a drunk mule. Stubborn but determined, I scurried along to keep behind Tarja and Tero. (Tero,13, is one of Tarja’s million cousins, who we kidnapped from Hyrensalmi.)

While I panted, and calculated whether or not the next stone/root/step was slippery, Tero would more often than not be on his mobile. (Shocking for numerous reasons, the biggest being that there is actually cell phone coverage in the middle of a national forest. Consistent coverage. Phones work everywhere. In tunnels, underground parking garages, farm country, you name it. Why can’t Sprint/MCI/AT&T/whomever get their act together to rid the big city of bad connections? Grr. Ok, so complaining/whining can be therapeutic at times.)

Exhausted and dirty, we burnt some makkera on a fire, and nawed them directly on the poker. (For those of you not familiar with my suburban upbringing, I was never indoctrinated into the wonders of the Brownies or the Girl Scouts, so this was all new to me.) After eating the best sausage of my life, we trudged back to our 2-floor lodging. I slept like a rock in an honest to goodness bed. Not bad.

posted by irene @ 7/24/2002 06:59:00 AM