It rains in the morning which reduces my motivation to get out of bed. It wasn’t cold to sleep under my two blankets.
I guess that with rain it is nicer in the forest than by the sea. So I choose 15 km long Höga Åsen trail for introduction.
It is nice in the forest. First there are pines and lichen, later fern, oaks, yew trees, birch and ants are added. Trees have struck poses, twisted themselves, thrown off bark or laid down. Despite all this and the fact that the forest is not managed and cut it hasn’t collapsed (main argument in Estonia in support of clear-cutting). Here are more interesting trees and stumps than I can photograph. I meet exactly one person.
At a junction I realize that with all this crawling around stumps one third of the trail has taken more than three hours. Since I took only a handful of trail mix with me I’m hungry. So I turn towards campsite to rest my shutter-finger and to eat.
Next to the path is the chapel. Door is half-open, no-one inside. I look perplexed at the donation box. I don’t have even a dime of Swedish money and actually no European money either. Introduction of plastic money must have had a devastating effect on donation boxes.
I finish the book about Delhi. Hard to understand what has had the worst effect on the city during its history, wars, the British or Archeological Survey of India. I start with Valdur Mikita’s lament about Estonian nature and culture. He repeats his earlier thoughts but has occasionally developed these to absurdity.
Decent rain finally starts.
It is nice in the forest. First there are pines and lichen, later fern, oaks, yew trees, birch and ants are added. Trees have struck poses, twisted themselves, thrown off bark or laid down. Despite all this and the fact that the forest is not managed and cut it hasn’t collapsed (main argument in Estonia in support of clear-cutting). Here are more interesting trees and stumps than I can photograph. I meet exactly one person.
At a junction I realize that with all this crawling around stumps one third of the trail has taken more than three hours. Since I took only a handful of trail mix with me I’m hungry. So I turn towards campsite to rest my shutter-finger and to eat.
Next to the path is the chapel. Door is half-open, no-one inside. I look perplexed at the donation box. I don’t have even a dime of Swedish money and actually no European money either. Introduction of plastic money must have had a devastating effect on donation boxes.
I finish the book about Delhi. Hard to understand what has had the worst effect on the city during its history, wars, the British or Archeological Survey of India. I start with Valdur Mikita’s lament about Estonian nature and culture. He repeats his earlier thoughts but has occasionally developed these to absurdity.
Decent rain finally starts.
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