The loud crunch of snowshoes on the hard snow crust feels almost criminal. Every now and then I have to stop – not to catch my breath – but to listen. The silence and calm are almost tangible. The spring sunshine dazzles my eyes as it reflects off the pure
The loud crunch of snowshoes on the hard snow crust feels almost criminal. Every now and then I have to stop – not to catch my breath – but to listen. The silence and calm are almost tangible. The spring sunshine dazzles my eyes as it reflects off the pure white snow.
The wicked world feels far away.
The air, chilled by the overnight frost, still feels pleasantly crisp on the tip of my nose as I approach the campfire site after a couple of kilometres' walk. In my rucksack I have a hot drink and enough snacks for the day's outing. Hey, there are bird tracks in the snow! Probably a black grouse or a willow grouse has been moving about here – perhaps it already has the spring lek on its mind. The spring sun has widened the tracks so much that I can't say for sure which bird made them.
Oh no, I've left the matches out of my rucksack! So the coffee break will have to be taken without a warming fire. There was firewood ready in the shelter, and judging by their tracks, the snowshoers who had stopped here earlier hadn't lit a fire either. Had they, I could have blown the embers back to life. I settle for a cup of hot coffee – and how good it tastes out here in the clean, frosty air.
No one seems to have walked the summer hiking trail for a while, or else the recent snowstorm has covered their tracks. Actually that's fine, because I decide to leave the marked trail and head off somewhere else entirely. There is plenty to see, and I never tire of all the old silver snags and thick-barked ancient pines that the area is full of. My imagination runs wild as I wonder what those trees have seen in their lifetime. My daydreaming is interrupted by a squabble between male great spotted woodpeckers as they chase each other round and round a dead pine. A third woodpecker watches from the side – presumably the female the males are competing for. I had already heard woodpeckers earlier, drumming their rolls on some nicely resonant branches of a dead tree.
With snowshoes that hold me up well and poles to help, my plans keep changing as I go. In winter, and especially now on the firm spring snow, it's easy to go wherever the fancy takes you. I decide to head out to a headland jutting into a forest lake, somewhere I've never been in summer. I know the ice here is definitely safe and there are no currents. Ice fishers have tried their luck here. They probably didn't catch much this time, as only a few holes have been drilled. On the headland a huge old pine has come to the end of its journey – the storm wind must have snapped the tree, already rotten inside. Its trunk is a good place to linger over another cup of coffee. Where shall I head next?
Glancing at my watch, I notice the hours have flown by again. The sun is already moving to the west and sinking lower. The air has warmed during the day, and the snow is starting to get wet on the surface. Spring seems to be advancing fast – if only we'd get some really good crusted snow. I've heard that in the old days people would drive a small car over the snow crust to go fishing at the most remote forest ponds – that must have been some seriously solid snow crust!
Time to head back towards the car. And to fetch those forgotten matches. Now at last it's time to light a fire and eat the rest of my snacks before the journey home. There were no guests at the Kuivajärvi hut this time, so I make use of the excellent campfire site in its yard. The firewood I always keep in the car just in case finally comes in handy, and this hiker at last gets to grill the campfire sausages he's been craving.
I'm already thinking about my next trip here. Spring is advancing relentlessly, and soon the swans' calls will be heard. That's when I'll have to come back at the latest. When the lakes and ponds begin to break free of the ice.
And that won't be long now.