Trip 42 — Fasta Åland Walk

Day 5: Sålis to Kroklund
Monday, 24 June 2024

Today: 48985 steps/38.71 km/24.05 mi/6h 59m
Total: 148946 steps/118.83 km/73.84 mi/21h 33m

Paradiset did live up to its name, especially in such glorious sunshine. In addition to the historic red buildings were a couple of outdoor couches, rock landscaping, attractively sparse shrubbery and flowers, and garden figures. Paradiset even had its own miniature maypole.

When I reached the road, I turned around for a final glance. My mouth was met by flies.

During one of the long access walks on Yell I tuned in to a radio segment on the underappreciated fly. They do a lot that we don't always give them credit for. They eat the waste of humans and other animals, as well as other rotting matter, sparing us cleanup efforts and landfill space. They pollinate beer hops, spices, and chocolate. Maggots can be used to treat wounds. Some species are pretty; one was named after Beyoncé's ass.

Most flies don't bite. But do they have to follow me? At least let them buzz in tune.

After an hour I reached a main road. Blissful construction was happening: the expansion of the network of bike and pedestrian pathways that run parallel to the highways. They were building an underpass to minimize conflicts between bikes and motor vehicles. I turned left and jealously followed a path that wasn't yet paved but was fine for walking.

I turned left again (today had a lot of skirting around lakes and bays) to follow another highway with a paved path until I took a smaller road up to Pålsböle. I had crossed into Finström, the central municipality of Fasta Åland. I had left most of the potato fields behind; now the abundant crop was apples.

Finström contains what's regarded as Finland's best-preserved medieval building: the stone St. Michael's Church, built in the 1280s. The indoor wall paintings were especially impressive, with apostles and saints, Biblical scenes, floral patterns, constellations, and geometric shapes. A wooden statue of St. Michael from about 1450 stood opposite a wall painting of the same statue. The decorations covered the walls yet were understated, inviting contemplation. And after four hours, it was a peaceful place for a break.

An hour north, after I threaded a couple more bodies of water, I approached Bastö. I'd considered staying at the Bastö Hotell; at the very least I wanted to lunch at its restaurant.

I stopped in my tracks just before the road curled into Bastö. When I'd checked the map at home it seemed unmistakably a peninsula of Fasta Åland. But when I now examined the route more carefully, it looked as though Bastö were accessed by a short bridge. And AWKWARD rules forbade me from stepping onto another island.

I inched up to the section in question. It wasn't much of a bridge. A tiny brook flowed under the road, through a tube. You wouldn't know you were going over a bridge if you were driving; you'd barely notice if walking.

There was an analogous place on Hiiumaa. I looked up my photo and deemed the two close enough in layout that Bastö should be considered part of Fasta Åland, much as Kassari was part of Hiiumaa. I nervously stepped into Bastö. Certain rules are not to be broken.

The restaurant (and maybe the hotel as well) were closed, but I ate there anyway, munching a smoked herring from Lisa Elmqvist at one of the outdoor wooden tables. That left me with two pieces of what the Swedish would call "nödsill" or emergency herring. Such a concise language.

There was another eatery an hour away anyway: the bistro at Grannas Äppel, one of the prominent makers of Finnish apple juice. I called ahead, just to be sure, and was pleased to be told I wouldn't need a reservation for 4:30 p.m. on a Monday.

Apple trees had replaced potatoes, and dragonflies replaced flies. I'll take dragonflies any time. They eat mosquitoes and flies. They mate in the air. And they're quiet and attractive. They'd probably be kind of tasty, too.

I had a schnitzel and a liter of fantastic apple juice as I sat outside by the orchard. The lack of night is strange. I could have lingered there another couple of hours, until they closed at eight, and probably remained at the edge in that peaceful spot. But I still had an hour's walk to my AirBnB. I didn't have to meet the owner to check in, but I imagined some pressure to arrive...when? While it was still light out? I could stroll in at 2 a.m. and see the way clearly — such a change from the 4 p.m. sunsets of Usedom.

It was laundry day, however, and those European machines can be sluggish. One year ago today, I washed my clothes at the Hotel Djurhuus in the Faroese capital for the equivalent of $29, almost certainly the dearest laundry experience of the Abecedarian Walks. Tonight I get a place to sleep and washing privileges for $41. I may be comparing apples to potatoes, or flies to dragonflies, but that's the way the herring flakes.

Go on to day 6