We crossed the Archipelago on the Northern Route from Åland to Kustavi. Kustavi was the northernmost point of our journey at about the same latitude as the southern border of the Yukon and the Northwest territories in Canada.

From Kustavi, we looped south on the well-known circular Turku Archipelago Trail and then back up to the Finnish mainland @ Kaarina on the outskirts of Turku.

From Kaarina it was around and down on the Finnish mainland to Mathildedal, home of hipsters and namesake of our granddaughter.

From Mathildedal, the next leg (and next post) would take us down to Hanko on the southern tip of Finland, at the Southeastern corner of the Archipelago.

It would have been far more straightforward, and adventurous, to travel south through the inner archipelago from Korpoström, the southernmost town on the Ring Road, through the inner Archipelago to Hanko via water buses and ferries.

But it wasn’t meant to be. And not for want of trying. We were just too late in the season. Ferries had shut down and critical waterbuses had suspended operations for the year.

The Inner Archipelago will have to wait for another day.

I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled up to the ferry at Hummelvik. There were lines of cars and trucks, waiting to board. We pulled up and took our place. Then we noticed a few bicyclists upfront and to the side. We rode around and hung out with them. 

Motor vehicles board first, bicyclists last. 

Once on the ferry, we lashed our bike to a rail with our trusty plastic covered steel/kevlar cinch lock. We weren’t expecting choppy water, but you never know. Then we headed upstairs to the lounge where everyone hung out.

We found a home upfront at a corner window and when the cafe opened, Sharon headed off to place an order for meat pies, another culinary favorite of the archipelago. 

We were both a bit stunned when they were delivered.

 

Where to start? We tentatively picked them up and took a couple of bites. An elderly gentleman and his wife at the next table were watching. He got got up and disappeared. A couple of minutes later he reappeared with knives, forks and napkins – and mustard and ketchup, which he placed as if he were a waiter. He returned to his table without a word. 

And then we all laughed.

Sharon scoured the lounge for reading material. After her morning Swedish lesson, she konked out. 

 

The ferries had great public WiFi. I checked email and so forth and then took a stroll up top outside to watch the archipelago slide by. Another couple, also dressed spandex, were doing the same. We struck up a conversation. They were Austrians, probably in their late 30s, riding mountain bikes, out for the day. Clearly in great shape, and having a good time.

“Yeah, we love Scandinavia for bicycling, our next stop will be Norway for Birken, the world’s largest MTB race.”  They weren’t worried about the race or much else for that matter. I was starting to relax.

At noon, the ferry arrived in Torsholma, we were last off – after the cars and trucks and after all the other bicyclists. We took our time as we walked down the metal grating of the ramp.

So began our ride across the Åland archipelago municipality of Brändö which consists of over one thousand islands, ten of which are inhabited and connected to each other by bridges, causeways and small ferries.

The municipality covers an area 634 square miles: 39 square miles of land and 595 square miles of water. Population 465. 

Those 465 have their own coat of arms, which pretty much sums the situation up perfectly. Birds and fish, but no people.

 

We loved Brändö. Quintessential archipelago. A highlight of the trip. Our road below.

 

In planning, I would joke, that I hoped we wouldn’t fall off the edge of the world.

Afterwards I say, that while we didn’t fall off, we did get to peer over the edge – While thinking of Brändö. 

Not surprisingly, there was no traffic, as virtually no one lives here and virtually no one passes through. Beautiful undulating roads, with postcard-perfect Baltic vistas in every direction. 

 

Curiously the landscape itself reminded me of one of my favorite places, the high Sierras in California above Tuolumne Meadows – gnarled low wind-swept trees and glaciated granite. Curiously, because Tuolumne Meadows is upwards of 8600 feet in elevation and alpine. Here we were perhaps 10 feet in elevation in a landscape flat as a pancake. 

 We had one more long ferry ride to reach the other side of the archipelago. We pulled up at the ferry landing. Just as a ferry was about to leave. It was smaller than I’d been expecting and I hesitated. Next thing I knew, it was too late. The ferry was pulling away.

I kicked myself for the next 45 minutes, until I looked more carefully at the posted ferry schedule. Thank god we hadn’t rushed on. 

Another on of those life lessons: There is one thing worse that missing your ferry –

Getting on the wrong one. 

As it turned out, we had time to kill. A couple of most-entertaining Lithuanian cyclists were waiting with us. A filmmaker and a bio-tech grad student. Mid twenties, they had bicycled their way over from Helsinki and were now heading back to Lithuania.

They had been stopping at yard sales across the archipelago, and showed us their treasures. We offered them one of our favorite energy bars … on one condition: 

That we get a Garuka Bar photo, which we had promised the makers after telling them of this adventure. Photo below:

 

After the photo shoot, it was fishing for dinner. A few bites, but no catch.

 

 

And then Sharon and I posed for a photo.

 

I wore my “Bike NYC 2018” jersey the first half of the trip, because I thought it was amusing. Sharon thought it was tasteless, which I also found amusing. I stashed it away in the home stretch after deciding she was right.

Our ferry finally did arrive and it was a big one.

 

We settled back and watched the archipelago slide by.

 

The cafe opened and we offered to buy a round of ice-cream for our Lithuanian friends.

All of us went for the most unusual ice-cream bars – chocolate covered vanilla ice-cream with a licorice core with hot pepper. 

 

You probably have to be a Finn to like them. Once in a lifetime was enough for us. The Lithuanians were of a similar mind. 

Once off the ferry, we thought it would be a straight shot to Petersen’s Boathouse, our evening destination. It would have been, if we had had a good GPS signal. 

As it was, we lost 45 minutes on a dead-end ride, one turn too soon, which took us into a forest, then onto a dirt road and finally to a loop of cabins at the end of the line.

We backtracked and eventually arrived at our destination.

Home sweet home in cabin #9 at Peterzens Boathouse below.

 

We liked Petersen’s: nice folks, great food, sophisticated design, and antique boats. We were now in the Turku archipelago – the Finnish side. No more Swedish. 

I had been thinking of showering in the sauna, but on second thought, passed when the only signs were in Finnish for “Men’s” and “Women’s.” Which would you choose: Naiset or Miehet? No graphic clues provided.

Peterzens was more marina that B&B – a Finnish boat resort, if you will. And a nice one at that.

 

Only an of hour by car from Turku, the oldest city in in Finland, and a tech center today, Turku’s prosperity and sophistication had reached Peterzens. 

Day 8  Tuesday August 21 Kustavi to Nauvo: 35 miles of bicycling and 17 miles on the water- five ferries. 

The weather looked good for our ride into the heart of the Turku Archipelago.  This would be a full day of island hopping: The big islands: Iniö, Houtskär, Korppoo, and Nauvo.  Smaller islands: Jumo, Mossala, Björko.

At breakfast at Peterzens when we asked about the antique sailboats moored outside, we were told,

“They belong to the big men.” Translation: The high-end wealthy, probably from Turku. 

 

Another couple were eating off by another window. Interesting match: He was older- 50ish, perhaps 145 lbs, a bit grey and grizzled, and on the short side. She was much younger- 30ish, perhaps 170 lbs, blond and vigorous, and at least a head taller. 

Clearly they got along just fine and had been together for a while. I thought to myself, 

“Way to go Finland.”

We checked out of our cabin and headed for the ferry. 

We arrived just in time. Rolled right on along with the Lithuanians, the odd couple from breakfast and a couple of Germans.

The seemingly-mismatched couple from breakfast were not Finnish after all, but another couple of Americans. 

Good folks from Brooklyn. He had been in a motorcycle accident and bicycling was therapeutic. They had taken a flier on a self-guided tour and had ended up here, in the Turku archipelago. 

Once we were rolling, we geared up. Pretty good country for tandems. We started passing the other bicyclists. One of the last was the German couple. 

We had chatted on the ferry. He had been trying to get a rise out of us by calling us “Asshole Americans,” which we found rather amusing. After a while he started calling himself an “Asshole German,” which he kind of was.

When the ferry had arrived at Mossala, he had sprinted off, leaving his girlfriend trying to catch up. First we caught her, and then eventually, we passed him. We smiled and waved. He grimaced.

Shortly thereafter we stopped for photos. He flew by. And after a bit, his better half rolled by as well. Photos below.

 

We crossed paths for the last time at the next ferry. Sharon asked him if he was a doctor.

He looked incredulous, “How did you know?”

 

“It was your use of Angioplastik.” 

Angioplasty is a fancy word for hip replacement, which Sharon unconsciously delivered in dead-on German. Score one for the Asshole Americans.

Sharon noticed that Oreos were being sold on the ferry for 1 euro each or $1.14 ±. We had been going through a misguided junk food = bicycling food thing right before this trip and it just so happened we were loaded with Oreos.

Which Sharon found most amusing.

 

Before the trip, I had worked out our daily routes and entered them into our RideWithGPS software on our laptop, which then, thanks to some cloud-magic provided turn-by-turn directions for our Wahoo Elemnt Bolt Bike Computer monitored by Sharon. 

For the most part I just had to enter the beginning and the end of each day and our software generated the route.

Which worked pretty much flawlessly as long as we had a dependable GPS signal. We did have a wrinkle though- for some curious reason, the software was partial to gravel roads – which we were not.

On the day’s home stretch into Nagu on Nauvo Island, we were directed North off the main road. The first mile with a tailwind was great, but then we hit the gravel. 

Decision time. 

The question was whether to continue and hope for the best, or turn around and fight the headwind back to the main road. We forged ahead. 

Bad choice.

Scenery was great and there was zero traffic, but the gravel just kept on keeping on.  We rode slowly while I worried about our tires.

Our tandem is a road bike. We ride with 110 lbs of tire pressure. Not so great for gravel.  We blew out a tire in Italy after a gravel stretch. 

My mood was foul, as I waited for the blowout as we sliced ahead through the sharp rocks.

7 miles ± later we were back on pavement. We stopped for a break and looked around. Rich, slightly rolling farmland. A bit of forrest. It could have been our trial run in Vermont. I tenderly spun the tires against my riding gloves to scrape off the last of the gravel.

Perhaps all would be OK.  Which it was. But we made a vow to each other. No more gravel.

We had received a text message earlier in the day with a code for the front door of our evening destination, the Lanterna Hotel. We pulled up, entered the code and we were in.

 

The key to our room was on the front desk as noted, and we made ourselves at home. After showers, it was off to dinner at the highly recommended L’Escale Restaurant, right around the corner. 

 

Dinner was great. Seafood with a French influence. The good life. The archipelago has its own black bread, svartbrod. Pretty wonderful. Not many other customers. The high season had passed. School in Finland begins mid-August. All the better for us.

We turned in early, but not before a bit more Duolingo Swedish study for Sharon. We still hadn’t seen anyone from the hotel. Mr. Tandem was happy to serve as an overflow clothesline. We had hung the rest outside on an empty clothesline, “For Hotel Use Only.” 

No harm, no foul.

 

Day 9  Wednesday August 22 Nauvo to Kaarina: 29 miles of bicycling.

Today we would loop back up out of the archipelago into the urban suburbs of Turku. 

I am up early. So I took a walk. Nagu is a most pleasant resort town. 

Our ride in below:

 

180 degrees from the above was another view of the L’Escale restaurant- the white building centered on the road in the distance. 

I still hadn’t seen anyone from the hotel & we needed breakfast. Concern flickered.

On return, from the bustle and aromas, it was clear all was well. After a chat with the proprietress we would be in for entertainment as well. 

Breakfast on the enclosed sun porch was totally wonderful. See below. Eggs – cooked to order – not shown.

 

The decor of the hotel was a reflection of the personality of the proprietress. Scandinavian minimalism it was not.

 

 

The walls were full of pictures, a kaleidoscope of genres and intent. A bit of hardcore religion here, a bit of kitsch there, and in between primordial landscapes. This woman was not blocked.

Along the way she explained that property values were up in Nagu, approaching those of Helsinki. Our Helsinki relatives rolled their eyes on hearing that one.

Back on the road it was soon clear that the remote stretches of the archipelago were behind us. Traffic picked up and the roads were sized accordingly. In a half hour or so we reached Pargas ferry – our 11th – and last of the trip. 

 

Soon we were on bike paths, which we rode the last 15 miles or so into Kaarina. The Finns take their bike paths seriously – to their credit. Wherever possible, traffic is separated.

 

A stretch of one path had been used for construction access. 

 

Our bike path crossed bridges. The one below was the last of the archipelago.

 

As we made our way into the suburbs of Turku, our path ducked under cross traffic with bike/ pedestrian underpasses. A nice touch. No broken glass in the tunnels. For that matter we didn’t find broken glass anywhere on our route. 

When we pulled up to Väliaikaisasunto, our inn/hostel for the night, we noticed what seemed to be a “Beware of Dog” sign in some language or other. Not Finnish or Swedish. Looked like Polish and was: Exact Translation: “Bad Dog and the Owner Even Worse”

 

And thus we were introduced to “Believe in Santa Claus”, the biggest dog I have ever met. 100 kg or 220 lbs. 

A totally nice guy too. And yes that was his full name.

Generally though he went by “Bélieve”, English, accent on first syllable.

 

We asked about his breed, and were told “Danish Dog.” Which as best we can tell is a Broholmer, a descendant of Viking dogs, crossbred with Great Danes and English Mastiffs. 

 “Bélieve” had an artificial knee, made in Estonia. Surgery in Switzerland. He was 6 years old. The third Broholmer of the couple running the place.

We parked our tandem by Bélieve’s mattress in the carport on the other side of the fence, confident that no one was going to bother it.

Relaxing in our room, we heard Bélieve bark, though the word doesn’t do the sound justice. It was a foghorn burst, rolling out in the lowest of registers.

Väliaikaisasunto was closer to hostel than B&B. We had a private room, but the toilets were shared and downstairs. No food provided. We asked about destinations within walking distance for dinner and breakfast.

And settled on Hesburger for dinner. Hesburger is the king of fast food Finland with all the expected variations of burgers and fries. Founded in 1966 in Turku, there are now over 260 restaurants in 60 towns across Finland. 

The appealing Finnish twist for us were the Turkish-Mexican options.

We both ordered the Kebab Tortilla. A tortilla wrapped around kebab meat, iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, jalapeños and paprika mayonnaise. We found a table where we happily munched away, entertained by the drive-though on one side and indoor kiddie play area on the other. 

Back at Väliaikaisasunto we climbed the stairs to our room. We nodded greetings to the smiling guy in the hall, still dripping from the sauna, wearing nothing but a towel. Fell asleep to the wind in trees and the traffic noise from the divided highway down the hill.

Day 10  Thursday August 23 Kaarina to Matilda: 45 miles of bicycling

We stopped for breakfast at Naantalin Aurinkoinen Oy on our way out of town. Bélieve’s Dad had told us, “Best Breakfast in Kaarina.” It was far from fancy, but pretty great.

 

Pastries to die for. Avocado and feta lettuce and tomato on toasted focaccia. Best focaccia we have ever had. When we told the cute young platinum blond at the register we were headed for Mathildedal, she blinked unknowingly. Clearly a Turku local. 

We followed the bicycle paths out of town, but soon they dribbled out. We rode on the highway for a while, but soon we were faced with a decision. Stay on the main highway or take the longer secondary route?

It was an easy choice, our nice wide shoulder had disappeared and the traffic had picked up. And our bike computer sided with the longer more scenic route. We gave in and turned north towards the town of Paimio. 

Traffic into Paimio was on the heavy side, but we had a shoulder. We worked our way through the Paimio bike paths and headed south and east. After a couple of turns, the traffic was gone and the landscape opened up into rolling farmland. It was mid morning. Clouds threatened, but that was all. 

 

We saw more tractors than cars on this stretch. We rode by a remarkable log house, and then looped back for a closer look. Check out the hay bale on the front corner.

 

Not a soul was around. We found out later that it dated from the 18th century and perhaps had been a hunting lodge for Swedish royalty when they were in the mood for roughing it. The door couldn’t have been more than 4 foot 6 inches tall. 

My Finnish grandmother Tyyne might have had to duck. But not much.

Soon we were in the town of Salo, and turned south into a headwind. Threatening, but no rain yet. 

Mid Afternoon we pulled into Mathildedal, having outrun the wet weather. 

 

Our inn for the night, was Sypressi, an 1840s log house in the middle of Mathildedal perhaps 100 feet from the sign above. Right off Sharon was fast friends with Mr. Dog. He wasn’t so sure about me.  

 

We were staying in the Matilda Room. Our granddaughter’s name is Matilda so it was pretty much perfect. 

 

This place was the real historic deal, with log walls inside.

 

Our friends at hotel F6 in Helsinki had quipped, “All the hipsters are in Matilda,” which seemed to us, an odd comment to make about a small town in rural Finland, pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

We were curious.

We know from hipsters. Our son and his family live in Williamsburg, Brooklyn NY. Ground zero for hipsters in the USA. Walk down the street in Williamsburg and get a preview of what will be media-celebrated, as the latest fashion trends, 6 months hence.

Back home in Massachusetts, we play a game, walking through Harvard Square – “Guess who’s from Williamsburg.” Lots of pretenders. Few keep pace.

We wandered over to Kyläravintola Terho, the eatery next door. Terho bills itself as Mathildedal’s living room. Local craft brews, food, live music and so forth. 

Terho photo below is from Cosmopolitan Magazine.

 

I was most pleased to discover that they served flights of local craft beer. 

 

We settled back into our pillows and struck up a conversation with the most pleasant, most stylish, late 20s-ish blonde at the next table. She was a local, kind-of.  

Owned a house in Mathildedal. She was “living with renovation”. Telecommuting now to Helsinki. She worked in advertising copy. We laughed about the complexities of the Finnish language. She said that even as a professional and a native speaker, she wasn’t sure sometimes, that she had it right.

Truth-be-told, she and her fashionable little dog were more Cosmo Magazine than Williamsburg hipster. Other young folk filtered in and out. One young guy had the eye of the girl behind the bar. 

He had come in with a very large, very clean, very expensive backpack, and had settled in on the other side of the room. I had no doubt that his body fat percentage was very low. He looked a bit like a model from a catalog. 

Mathildedal is surrounded by a national forrest, so that fit. But something was off.

Then it hit me, his leather boots were waxed just so, but there was no mud, no scuffs. His haircut fashionable. His clothes more distressed than worn out, and on the tight side.

He was a bit more self-aware of his appearance than the run-of-the-mill trail junky.

Bingo. Mathildedal Hipster.

We wandered down the hill towards our recommended restaurant Ruukkifest Oy, overlooking the marina on this, the southwestern, edge of the archipelago.

Almost there, Sharon spotted the alpacas so we had to head over for a closer look.

 

A couple of things to note in the above photo. This alpaca had just been sheared and that’s me in the red bicycle jacket up the hill. I’m averting my eyes because I knew Sharon would not be deterred. She was going to pet this guy, no matter what the signs said. 

I didn’t want to be watching when her fingers were nipped off.

No fingers were lost and the wool was said to be wonderfully soft.

At Ruukkifest Oy, we had the best seat in the house. No one else was there. Our waiter was a mild-mannered, pleasant guy. One of those folks who had walked to the end of the plank. And jumped. Landed on his feet here in Mathildedal.

We struck up a conversation. Driving into work, he had passed us, on our way into Mathildedal. Once we said “Tandem”, he knew it had been us. Not too many on these roads.

From the Netherlands, he had fallen in love with a Finnish woman. She didn’t want to move, because she felt that the Dutch language would be too hard to learn. It was those “H” sounds. 

So here he was in Finland, struggling to learn Finnish, at least an order of magnitude more difficult. So how difficult is Finnish? 

Not so bad if you speak Mongolian. If not, well, Buena Suerte. Good Luck.

Finnish has no connection to Latin or Germanic language groups. The graphic below sums it up pretty well. 

 

Lohi is salmon. Käärme is snake. So a dragon is salmon snake. Simple. ¿No?.

Not only are words unrecognizable, but Finnish has 15 grammatical cases and the smallest change in the end of the word can change its meaning.

Back at our inn, we turned in early. Terho next door was pumping out Cat Power’s “Greatest” CD onto their back patio, which was pretty much under our window. Chan Marshall was a NYC hipster, 10 years ago.

Still a favorite of mine. Some folks used to go to her concerts just to see if she would break down, which she did on a regular basis. 

Thankfully, soon it was quiet. Small-town-Finland quiet, and I was gone.

Next: Hanko & the Kings Road