PROJECT L: PART 135
Bunny's Autumn
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I used to loathe autumn. It meant that the summer was over and the long, arduous winter was just upon us. Right behind the corner. It could be any corner, even the corner of your eye. And there it stalks, every year, around the same time.
Nowadays it’s less fear and loathing in Southern Finland to me, as early and mid Autumn is the most beautiful time of the year, in my opinion; the yellowing leaves and the Finnish ruska, foggy mornings and nights, colourful sunsets and especially sunrises.
There’s still some disdain left in me, though. The winter still comes and it’s cold, and if it’s not cold, then it’s just plain dark and miserable. And very uncomfortable to wear latex outside.
But let’s try to keep it positive. It’s still autumn and we’re trying to capture that feeling and the beautiful nature surrounding us – and I feel that this photo shoot really captured the epitome of Finnishness and classical Finnish paintings.
While doing some reconnaissance of the nearby areas, I found the location – Suomies nature trail – close by, which translates to… the Swamp Man. There are no swamps, nor were there any swamp men nor women (nor any other genders, as far as we know) in the location.
Before you say anything, yes, we’re kind of in the woods, again. It’s just that 75% of Finland is forest – and anywhere we go, it’s forest.
We go to Helsinki, there’s forest. We go to the nearest city, there’s forest. Sometimes there’s fields, too, but they’re always surrounded by forest. There’s probably even forest in the bottom of the seas of Finland as well. I just haven’t looked at there.
But this forest is a bit different. The story says that there used to be giants around here. And it’s technically not even a forest, as it is an abandoned gravel pit turned into a nature trail.
But it sure is surrounded by a forest. Like everything in Finland.
There was no parking available where we planned on approaching the Swamp Man from, so we had to park to a different parking spot. This meant that there, indeed, was a forest in between us and the target location. Where we had a quest.
But the forest was nice. There were tall pines with no branches at the bottom, so they created this wonderful depth in the image, showing the varying height.
We found a route to choose from. Left or right?
We went right. It was bound to lead to where we wanted to, right? Right?
The route took us to an opening. The older pine forest cleared up, and a rocky hill was upon us. We even got a glimpse of sunlight to enlighten our way!
Perhaps this was the right way.
Right…?
The route continued to the top of the hill, where there seemed to be an opening. The opening went nowhere, but we found another path, which we took… right again.
The path had deep grooves in it. There was orange fiber-like tape wrapped on the trees surrounding it around every 20 metres or so.
It was the migration path of downhill bicyclists, we guessed, and followed it up the hill, being aware that any minute now someone might kill us with an out-of-control bicycle.
We saw no bicycles on the route. We were spared.
While we climbed to the top of the hill we found a nest of some kind of… eggs. Mountain bike eggs, perhaps?
Upon closer inspection they turned out to be stones.
According to signs around the location, these piles of rocks were thought to be the pebbles of giants way back in the olden days. In reality they are just formations of rocks that have been ground to be relatively round by the centuries of ice.
Or so they want us to believe.
The rocks were not very stable, and we were quite close to tripping while walking around them, for we, also, are not very stable.
So we almost died, again, surviving from the trial of the stones barely with our lives, and latex still intact.
We reached the top of the hill. For the unprepared it was quite a steep climb, after all, as we had anticipated reaching our target, down in the valley, without any climbing nor without any threat of deadly mountain bikes nor their unsteady eggs that look like stones.
Without exaggerating, like, totally at all, the route was the Finnish version of Caradhras, sans the evil spells of the White Wizard. We were lucky that it was not covered in snow, but only with those stone-egg-things; nor were we spotted by the crebain out of Fangorn and Dunland.
Looking down the hill, we knew where we needed to go; yet we did not know if we had the strength in us to go further.
But we had no choice; it was to either go forwards, or to return to the field of the evil-and-unstable stone-egg-things.
We were at a crossroads. To go left, down the steep hill, or to go right, down a hill with a lesser grade. Having been exhausted by the climb, we chose to go right.
It’s the right choice, after all, again? Right?
After a long walk the path diminished into the woods. You could barely recognize it as a path, but as experienced Finns, we’re accustomed to the woods. Rangers of the North, you know.
Then, we found more deep grooves on the ground, surrounded by red markings on the trees.
Mountain bike territory.
Any second now, a mountain bike could strike us from any direction. Even below. We were on guard.
Luckily, no mountain bikes were to be seen.
We cleared off from the forest and the hills to find an opening; one of the main targets of our shoot, where we initially intended to go, if it weren’t for the Finnish Misty Mountains in between the location and our chosen parking spot.
Taking good use of the flat area we had reached, with only young trees growing here and there, we took a breather and looked at the setting sun. Autumn was here and the leaves were already turning yellow.
But there was one last challenge to reach before we started our perilous journey back.
We could see our next target. Another hill, but not alike the Finnish Caradhras; it was less steep, but much more barren and quite visible to any possible big red eyes atop any black towers.
We gathered our strength and started the perilous journey.
We had made it. Our long and dangerous journey had finally brought us to the two towers, unseen by enemies.
The two towers were actually trees that had been planted to the ground upside down, as lore tells, by giants.
And there were three of them in total.
Despite this all, we were able to finish our quest.
“Touch wood”, someone had told us, so we did. We touched the wood.
It was wood.
Now that our quest was complete, there was one thing left to do. To find our parked car. The journey had been difficult, and we were tired. Would we have to backtrack our way through the Finnish Caradhras, the evil stone-egg-thingies and the deep forest?
Would the evil mountain bikes strike us down?
Would our rations last?
Will we find home before the sun sets for the final time?
Will Bunny’s bare chest area freeze from the cold winds?
There was a road to take. Where would it take us?
Well, remember how, at the beginning of our journey, we had to make a choice; to go left or right?
We chose right, which, well, wasn’t right.
If we had chosen left, we could have just taken this road, leading directly to the foot of the hill we were standing on. Which was an easy ten-minute walk through the valley.
But we would have missed the journey, wouldn’t we? It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.
Me, in my great wisdom, said this totally original quote to Bunny, calling her Frodo by accident and totally not stealing the quote from any Mr. Tolkien:
“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
As a retort, Bunny hit me with a stick.
I deserved it.
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One Response
okay