Written by Although Finland is known as the land of a thousand lakes, two hundred thousand would be a more accurate figure. Calling it the land of a thousand million trees would probably be even more accurate. I recently had the pleasure of visiting this lovely country and my trip was definitely a game of two halves. So naturally that will mean two blog posts. You are reading part one, part two will follow later.
My wife Margaret and I settled into a pretty Pan Parks Village log cabin just north of the Arctic Circle for a week of chilling out. This was to be our base camp for the next week. Now you might think that being north of the Arctic Circle would leave us with no option but to chill, but we found it to be surprisingly hot on arrival and looked forward to a nice holiday.
Straining to reach the Arctic Circle, but not quite making it, is Oulanka National Park and the main reason for our visit to this area. Wildlife wise, the most common subject we came across was reindeer. They were everywhere. Forced out of deep woodland by mosquitoes that were thriving in warm weather, they were probably more visible than usual. A couple of bulls sported impressive racks of still-soft and velvet-covered antlers, and most cows had a calf in tow.
I took a couple of pictures of reindeer, but no more. Photography was not the main focus for this week (pun intended), this was our exploration time. We walked the trails of Oulanka NP at a steady pace, taking the time to drink in our surroundings.
Finland is surprisingly flat; well it surprised me at least. Once scoured by ancient ice gentle undulations now characterise this area. The peaks may or may not be covered by old growth forests and are called fells. Down in the troughs mires of various forms have developed. Between these two features transition zones have their own characteristics, accompanied by localised bursts of particularly lush woodland where rivers flow. This amazing mosaic of life meant the there was always something for us to look at. Walking the trails at anything more than a steady pace would have been a crime.
Woodland trails were well marked and easy to follow. They took us around lakes, past several ad-hoc barbeque stations (cooking sausages on an open fire appears to be a Finnish obsession), across a suspension bridge and to spectacular viewpoints overlooking the beautiful River Oulankajoki. An excellent network of board walks criss-crossed the mires, keeping our feet dry and making sure that getting lost wasn’t an option. They also made sure that we could get to otherwise unreachable areas and kept my wetlands loving wife in a state of perpetual happiness.
Although I’ve said that photography wasn’t a priority for this week, I still took my camera out with me every day and I still took a healthy number of photographs. Trees, plants, dragonflies, scenery, enormous boulders that have lain in the same place for around 10 000 years (dropped by the same glaciers that ground Finland flat) and even something as simple and transient as a trick of the light; all of these things and more caught my attention at some time or another. I took what I fancied without worrying about who would want it, or even who would like it. It was an all-round very relaxing time. Isn’t that what holidays are for?
(Go to Finland Two – photography time)
This occasional blog is a tasty serving of nature and wildlife photography, with a side dish of my experiences out in the field and lightly seasoned with any random thoughts that occur to me along the way.
Yellow Peril
2011 2 Comments
Daffodils = spring, spring = daffodils. Or so it seems. Maybe it’s something to do with bright yellow blooms catching the eye after a drab winter. Maybe it’s because that upon appearing they lift the spirit and let us know that better weather is just around the corner. Maybe they are alien life-forms intent on bending us to their will and taking over the world. Whatever it is, there seems to be more and more of them every year.
I sympathise with the often noble aspirations of guerrilla gardeners, bringing life into the concrete jungle where they can. But surely, there must be limits. Artificially beautifying an area is nothing new. In the late 1800’s railway stations along the North York Moors’ Esk Valley Line were liberally planted up with the yellow peril, from Middlesbrough to Danby, as part of a marketing exercise, with plans to plant all the way to Whitby and call it “The Daffodil Line”. The name was dropped, but amazingly a lot of daffodils still remain. And of course, there is the annual “Britain in Bloom” competition.
I’ve reluctantly accepted daffodils surreptitiously planted along rural grass verges as an extension of the guerrilla’s mindset. Despite how out of place they often look. But when out recently on an early morning foray, exploring the rolling North York Moors, I came across a bunch of gaudy and over-the-top-yellow daffodils that had been planted up high amongst heather. No doubt this act of horticultural self-expression was well intentioned, but it’s so misguided. If yellow was what the planter wanted to see they only had to look around. Not more than ten paces away was a small broom shrub with its bright yellow flowers bursting forth.
Folk seem to be mindlessly driven to bring their gardens into the countryside, when it would be so much better for us all if they let a little of the countryside into their gardens instead.