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Story time: Time's no more

For a while I've had this strange urge to visit a small town called Sammaljoki. I have no idea why. I decided to ride there as it made a nice 200km roundtrip.

It was a great ride. Beautiful country side, colors of autumn and nearly empty roads.

Theater of imagination

After around 30 kilometres I saw a small signpost saying something about an outdoor theater. I ride past the sign, but after couple of minutes I decided to turn around and go see what that sign was all about.

There was a beautiful theater by a lake. I went to the top of the grandstand to sit there awhile. View was amazing, leaves where falling of from the trees as autumn starts to take over the land. There was a scent of old leaves in the air. It was completely silent. Almost like time ceased to exist.

Outdoor theater

I probably lost at least 30 minutes just by listening that nothingness.

Shed that was

My route took me to an seemingly old and bumpy gravel road. The road was surrounded by fields and very high rocks. Forest on top of those rocks looked very old. Thick trees on the cliffs looked almost magical. I felt an urge to leave my bike somewhere and climb up to see the view but didn't as those rocks were very high and hard to get to.

I continued the ride and felt like that my road bike was not an optimal machine to ride on the bumpy gravel road. After the next intersection I saw an old shed in the woods which had a door wide open. The place for it was beautiful, there was a small river running underneath the shed. I think the place was an old abandoned water mill, very small one. 

Carpenter shed

As the door for the upstairs part of the shed was open I took a peek inside. There was a room that had a smell of old wood and dust. It felt like no one had been there for a long, long time. It was an old tool shed for a carpenter. I can only imagine how it was working there while listening the river running underneath. No electricity. A place without rush, a home of handicrafts.

Wayfarers hope

After riding around 150 kilometres I saw an fairly old wooden church. Simply a beautiful peace of architecture in it's own right.

Put your mind back in time, say 800 years. You're an wayfarer, an adventurer, someone who nobody really waits for but wants to hear what you have to tell. You're someone that knows what is happening in the world. Life's not easy for you. It's walking, your home is on the road. After walking for days through a dense forest your eyes catch a cross shining on the high grounds. It's a church! It means warmth, maybe even food. 

Churches where mostly built on old holy places of pagans, usually fairly high and visible places, they must have been an important landmarks for wayfarers and wonderers alike.



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