Thursday August 6th 2015. Tenting a little past the Somas cabin. 23 km

Waking up in the Pitsujärvi cabin. The ladies asked if we had slept well. Not too good. I admitted that I was not used to sleeping under three girls. Eric had not perceived their entry yesterday evening. We were kidding him with stories about all the games the five of us had done while Eric was in dream land. Great fun.
I released Tosca from her log cabin. There were only shreds left of the rendeer furs. Like a pillow that was was torn into peaces. She seemed very satisfied.
We start walking and arrive after some hours at the Kopmajoki cabin. There was a father with his twin brother and three children dubbing what to do. One of the sons had diarrea. And his feet were all mosquito bites.

Mosquito bites on the feet of the young sick Finn.

I was consulted. I tell Eric and Ton the joke of that young couple going to the doctor. Doctor, we can not get children. Just go to the room next door. And you madam, you take off your clothes and lie down on the examination bench. A little later, the doctor enters, poodle naked and does what it takes. And this has to be done 3x a week, for three months. Asks the man: Should I come too each time?

He is 20 minutes younger, one of the fathers said about his twin brother. Yes, one can see, we said. Alright fun. Eric’s gas burner was to hell. The Finnish fathers made a great effort to repair the thing, but unfortunately without result. Could I ask that Fin if I could buy one of their burners, Eric said. The twin father takes the words out of Eric’s mouth: do you want to buy one of our two burners? Eric thinks he has an angel on his shoulder. Hopefully not the same I have, otherwise I might lose mine.
We go on walking. I’m falling once. Not funny, but … shit happens. Worse, I fall a second time (but not under the cross, like a famous historical person), and now at the edge of the river, just at the last step to the shore. Pants half-sided wet. After a while, I see a round stone formation, 1m. high. That must be the Finnish-Norwegian border. While I want to make a picture of the borderstone pile, two sinister persons jump from behind the stones: ho, stop, border control. Do you have anything to import? It was Ton and Eric. Yes, Tosca answers, a limbo-Dutch (Limburg is my Dutch province)!
After 15 km. of walking we had lunch in the Somas cabin and because tomorrow we have 30 km to go to the Saraelv cabin, we decided to walk a few extra hours today and then put up the tent. Then tomorrow will not be so hopelessly long. The Somas cabin did not have a gas cooker. Then cooking on the stove. Cosy.
The belly was just filled, when Tosca reported a visitor. I have not remembered his Norwegian name, but it started with an Ø. Later I find back his name: Øyvind. A man, in his late twenties, who was on his way from southern Norway to Cape North. Took three months off from his job and ran at a pace of 30 km. a day, often through unspoilt large natural reserves like the Borgefjell in Norway and the Sarek in Sweden. 25 Kilo on the back, guided by card and compass. Hint: Everyone in Norway knows you, he says. I answer: Why doesn’t the TV come. Then I can advertise for Mamma Alice. Oh, you’re walking for charity, Oyvind asks? So did he. He walked for the Norwegian cancer foundation. Had gathered already 7000 E.
We say goodbye. Photo.

Ter oriëntatie

For orientation.

Op weg richting Somashytta

On the way to Somashytte.

Vanachter de grenssteen springt een onverlaat, genaamd Ton, naar voren. Halt, douane!

From behind the border pile of stones a man of low degree, Tom,  jumps ahead. Stop border control!

Lunchpauze in Somashytta. Ontmoeting met Noorwegenwandelaar Øyvind

Lunch break in Somashytta. Meeting trans Norway walker Øyvind.

Deel van mijn lunch.

Part of my lunch.

Kennismaking met " ' ne helle" ( harde) Noor, Øyvind

Meeting a very cool Norwegian, Øyvind.

Ton voor de tent

Ton in front of his tent

Tijdens tent opzetten

Building the tent.

Eric voor de tent

Eric in front of his tent


Mosquito time.

While I was still talking to Øyvind in the Somashut, Eric and Ton left. A few hours later I arrived at their camp, at a river just past a large mountain lake. I also quickly set up the tent near theirs. Tosca fled into the tent escaping the mosquitoes. So did I. Photos of mosquitos. Safe in our little inner tent world. On the outside of the tent hundreds of evil mosquitoes are swarming, trying to drink my sweet blood. Each time I get into or leave the tent, a quarter of an hour the tent is like a slaughterhouse for the unwanted intruders. At ten o’clock my day ended.

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