Safe Return Doubtful

The woman with the dog called Moo, named from the Moomins, who I met a few days ago in the Bothnian Sea National Park, had recommended Sannaisten peninsula and told me about a children’s camp there, that she used to work voluntarily at, and , that she thought would be empty at this time of year. She thought it would make an excellent base from which to see the area, and its delights, of rocky beaches, and a mix of pine and beech forest and farmland pasture. 

At first I wasn’t so keen, but later in the conversation she mentioned that it was haunted, and she piqued my interest. 

There has been a children’s camp at Kunstenniemi since 1946, at the head of the peninsula. In those days, it was reachable only by boat. The main farm had been the house of  Kunssisen family, but after her parents died, only Alina remained,  and farmed self-sufficiently since the late 1930s. Occasionally campers had come from Turku, through Alina’s links with the church, and after the war, it was opened as camp for children from the nearby city. It thrived, like many outdoor adventure centres in the UK, until twenty years ago, when the owners realised they could make more money from the place by upgrading facilities, and making them available for adult courses and conferences as well as for children, though such an upgrade, put the cost out of range of most schools. 

Alina lived for another ten years after the camp was formed, and died at the age of 64. She was missing for several days until the tide washed up her body on the shore just below her cottage. It was assumed she had taken her own life. Children’s camps being what they are, a great place for telling and listening to stories, Alina’s spirit lived on for many years, making unscheduled appearances with the rustling of the trees on a calm night at the campfire, or a gentle but unmistakable howling and cackling as the youngsters lay in bed and tried to put out of mind the terror of the stories they had just heard. 

It was a good place to stay, though workmen on tractors began their day at 6 am this morning. I put together a stimulating loop through the forest, calling in at various beaches on route.

There was one point when I needed to cross some private land and a house, and there was a car on the premises, so I spotted a guy, Henrik, and asked if it was okay to pass through. We chatted for a bit. He spoke good English, as he told me he worked in English, and was just taking a mid-morning break from a day in the home office.

He worked for Snowchange, an organisation I had, by coincidence, read about a few days ago. Henrik, now in his late 50s, has been a fisherman, and lived as a young man in the Arctic fishing icescapes by hand. He subsequently attended University and graduated in human geography and became involved in the Snowchange Cooperative, which had been founded only a few years earlier, in 2000. The organisation protects the environment and traditions of the north. He had just spent ten days in North Karelia, close to where I was a few weeks ago also. As usual, it was Roja who had sparked the conversation, as Henrik had a labrador also, which was with his wife currently, at their home in the north. He was staying here, at his friend’s summer house, as he was delivering a series of lectures on Snowchange at Turku University in the next few days. He made good coffee which was a bonus. 

Back at the ex-children’s camp I had lunch and was attending to some business when some very polite ladies came over and asked if I had everything I needed. They had an ulterior motive however, as they were about to get busy with a conference tomorrow, and many of the delegates staying over. I had to leave. 

I looked around, with the advantage of my circular hike today, and soon found a place tucked away in the forest a few kilometres away, that is actually more scenic and quieter. 

We took an hour out in the early evening, which became two. I’ve had the habit in the last few days of taking interesting deviations, most likely deer trods rather than paths, and sometimes having to battle through the forest off-piste when they fizzle out. It’s fallow deer here, and there are plenty of them, not easy to see at first, but if Roja is staring at something, I adjust my focus accordingly, stay still as he does, and usually I spot them also.