A rainy morning again, and it suited my wake-up mood, as I had to leave Varanger to head down south. Varanger definitely made an impression on me. I wasn't in a hurry to leave. Maybe it was the peace and quiet, maybe it was the constantly shifting sights, sounds and colours of the bay. Maybe it was just me wanting to relax. In any case, I gathered my belongings, packed the bike and rode off, reluctantly.

As I was running the bike down the coast, the sun came out. And Varanger presented its one last surprise for me. First, I saw another whale playing in the morning sun, over at the eastern side of the bay. I stopped to watch it. Then my attention was drawn to some markings on the shale coast. I had a look around and found some information on a signpost. It was quite a special place I had stumbled upon, an ancient Sami burial site. The graves date back from 400 to 2000 years ago. I can very well imagine why they chose that particular spot, as it overlooks a fjord at the other side of the bay, which catches the full light of the sun.

But this turned out to be only a part of the whole story. Because this particular coastline, which is called Ceavccageceadne (now try to pronounce that while having your morning coffee), hosts a complete prehistoric village that dates back 10.000 years. You can actually see where the first settlers put up their tents. The central piece of the site is the so-called Tear Stone, which is a holy monument not dedicated to something sad and tragic, but to fish oil ('tear of the fish' in old language). It seems the fishermen rubbed the stone to ensure a good catch. That they kept doing so for at least 2000 years, boggles the mind.

Having had a look around and being suitably impressed, I went on my way again with a much improved frame of mind. Yeah, I'm that type of guy that gets his mood lifted by prehistoric burial sites. What can I say. After a few dozen kilometers I made a pitstop at Tana Bru, to restock, have a quick lunch at the Elvekanten Spiseri (damn fine coffee) and to buy myself a Sami hunting knife. That's right, I'm that type of guy that will get a knife as a souvenir and ... Well. What can I say. It's purely ornamental, and such.

Then it was off to the Finnish border. That meant a 150 km ride into the eternal forest. It was cold, as the Finnmarksvidda is expected to be in September. You can feel the frost coming in. The Ruska autumn means the birch trees have now turned a full orange, offset against purple and red tundra. Affter crossing the border, the spruces returned again; I hadn't seen those for at least 10 days. The mountains gradually disappeared, making way for wide plains of stunning autumn colours. Sometimes a lost mountain (the Finnish call them Tunturi) appeared, to preside over the natural splendour around it. Riding through the Finnish forest constitutes an almost psychedelical experience. It's a good thing that, in the middle of all that glory, the Finnish have put up some signs to alert you in detail to the local traffic regulations. Nothing better to keep you grounded and sober.

As I sit here in an almost abandoned holiday camp at Inari (it came cheap and they've got great amenities), I am contemplating my fate. What a lucky guy I am, to leave one great place and run straight into the next one. I almost don't want to l... Oh, not that again.

PS. Looking out over the lake I can see the northern lights over at the horizon. Finnmark is saying goodbye in style.

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There was no way around it, I had to ride a fair distance today to get down south, were I to make it to the Helsinki ferry on Friday. So I got up early, had a quick breakfast (powder coffee) and rode off. Four hundred fifty kilometers to go to Kemi, on the Gulf of Bothnia.

It was pretty cold outside, about 4 degrees C. When it started raining, I was sure to cover and close every possible windleak in my suit, because at pace you basically get below zero because of the riding wind. That worked out well, but I still needed a break every 50 km's, just to get those muscles warmed up again. I am pretty sure some reindeer secretly observed me from the forest edge as I danced around the bike trying to chase out the cold. Maybe even a moose.

A warm coffee was very much in need, so when I pulled up to Tankavaara, I ran straight into the saloon. Saloon? Yes, it was an actual saloon, because Tankavaara is a recreation of an old goldmining town. Turns out there is some gold to be found in the woods surrounding it, and you can join the gold washers at the local river. I was too much in a hurry for that, but I did enjoy their coffee. The whole thing's a bit of a tourist trap of course, but it's all in good fun.

The Finnish definitely do like to have some fun in Lapin Laani, as they call this region. Everywhere down the road there are signs pointing to this or that activity. Husky rides seem to be popular, skiing and hiking as well. As are the many roadside restaurants and bars. I mean, who wouldn't want to go to Kafe Zippi & Suhaus?

All that creativity got my spirits up. Which was just as well as I was only 100 km's in. 350 to go, so I started to amuse myself by trying to pronounce all those extraordinary Finnish place names. Try for yourself: Akasjokisuu, Kakslauttanen, Pelkosenniemmi, Muodoslompolo. When that had exhausted itself, I thought to sing to myself, as nobody but the reindeer could hear me. I ended up doing at least 100 very loud variations on Pachelbel's Canon and Gigue in D Major.

That kept me busy until Sodankyla, where I hit the 200 km mark. I took a short look around town. Sodankyla is remarkable (if it is to be considered remarkable) for two things: a ridiculous amount of petrol stations and one of the oldest wooden churches in Finland. This so-called Lapp church dates from the 17th century and has a definite non-christian look about it, at least on the outside. Not a cross to be found. I was still wondering about this when I pulled up at my lunch cafeteria. But my attention was soon drawn away by having to choose a meal from the menu. Was it going to be Savuporoleipa or Karjalanpiirakka? Ah, why not both, you only live once.

Appropriately refreshed I made my way south again. It was time for the mental jukebox. In the last two weeks I have accrued a lot of new material. You can listen in if you want, check out this all new Spotify playlist:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6E...ive-share-menu

After about 300 km's I arrived at Rovaniemi. It's where Santa Claus lives, they say. You can pay for the privilege to meet him at Santa Park. I decided to not enjoy that particular pleasure, but to ride on to the town centre. Rovaniemi calls itself the Capital of the Arctic, as it straddles the Arctic Circle. Well, all I saw was a few very large malls. As they didn't particularly appeal to me, I rode on.

I did feel a bit sad to leave the Arctic Circle behind. The magic of the eternal forest had already begun to fade about 50 km's before Rovaniemi, as the tundra started to disappear, being replaced by evergreen spruces and grass meadows. Now the human presence began to make itself felt again. Supermarkets, building sites, vaping shops, graffiti. Welcome back to civilisation.

The last 100 km's to Kemi were heavy going. It had started to rain and the road became busy with late afternoon traffic. When I arrived at the hotel in Kemi, it turned out to be something akin to a medical center amidst council flats. The main door won't open except when kicked, there's a weird buzz in the bathroom and the kitchen has been taken over by Russian builders.

It's comfortable enough though. I just want a rest. And to have a dream or two about the eternal forest.

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The last few days I've made a lot of kilometers. I've been steadily riding down the coast of Finland, getting closer to Helsinki. I've passed the 7000 km mark now.

And I'm still loving it. There has not been one day that I didn't want to get on that motorcycle and ride around. I must confess I didn't expect that. There would surely come a point where I would tire of it, right? Wrong. Which will be giving me something to ponder about in the coming weeks and months.

Anyway, I've been riding around a part of Finland called Ostrobothnia. It's basically a few medium sized towns on the Bothnian coast with a lot of pine forests in between. Sometimes that has been as boring as it sounds. Those pine forests do go on for a long time, and they do not seem half as interesting as the eternal forest of the high north. But the coast can be beautiful, looking out over the hundreds of islands that are dotted around the Gulf of Bothnia.

And the main towns are reasonably interesting as well. First up, Oulo. Oulo is the first major town that you encounter coming from up north (sorry Rovaniemi, but Santa's village really does NOT count). The specific attraction that Oulo offers are the old harbour warehouses, that have now been converted into cafe's and shops. It's a fun place to hang around for an afternoon. Especially to catch some late summer sun.

Then comes Vaasa. This is the first place since the high north that has a city feel to it. To my surprise I'd missed that somewhat. And Vaasa offered me the opportunity to lounge for a while in the local branch of Espresso House (a favourite of mine since Malmo). Bring forth the cinnamon rolls!

I liked Vaasa very much, but my favourite moment of the last few days has to be my pitstop at Parkano, where I happened to walk into the diner of Meya and her husband. It had been a particularly rainy ride the last few hours, and when Meya saw that I had arrived somewhat drenched, she welcomed me with a hot coffee, a fine cheeseburger and a warm heart. Turns out she and her husband had been touring around Europe themselves, on a VFR (my first motorcycle). They hadn't been able to tour anymore since the Covid thing though, because their diner had run into difficulty because of the lockdowns (I've heard quite a few similar stories on this trip). Seeing me riding into town brought back some happy memories which she wanted to share, and off course I duly obliged. When we said goodbye, I thanked them for their hospitality and wished them every opportunity to tour again.

I realise how lucky I am to have had the chance to make this journey. Sure, I put a lot of preparation in it, but there's so much more that had to come together to make it possible. Not least to mention, the huge support from my wife Monica. But more about that next time. That will also be my last entry in this travel journal, as I will be heading home!

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