FINE WEATHER LEAVING HAPARANDA.--WINDSTORMS SUCCEED.--A FINLANDER'S
FARM.--STRANGE FIREPLACE.--INTERIOR OF A COW-HOUSE.--QUEER FOOD
FOR CATTLE.--PASSING THE ARCTIC CIRCLE.
I left Haparanda in the beginning of January, surrounded by the friends
who had taken such an interest in me. The atmosphere was clear, and not
a cloud was to be seen in the pale blue sky, turning into greenish as it
approached the horizon. There was not a breath of wind. Once the
thermometer marked 30 degrees below zero.
"Be careful," said my friends. "This is treacherous weather for ears and
noses, there is danger of their getting frozen; rub them, and also your
face, now and then with snow. Keep your ears covered, and protect them
with your hood. If it becomes colder put on your mask."
I thanked them for their kind advice, but replied: "No mask for me just
now, I want to breathe this pure invigorating air as much as I can. I
want it to reach my lungs."
[Illustration: "It was indeed, a fearful wind storm."]
"Be careful in such weather," they repeated. "This is beautiful weather
indeed, but sometimes it does not last long and is followed by furious
gales, or great snowstorms; but we hope this fine weather will follow
you for many days. Often it lasts quite a while."
Then we bade good-bye to each other. They tucked the sheepskin round me,
and bade the driver to take good care of Paulus.
Soon after this we were out of Haparanda and on the highroad leading to
Pajala, which was about one hundred and ten miles further north, there
being ten or twelve post stations between the two places.
Sleighing was fine, the road had been used much, so we went on at a very
fast pace. It was just the weather people, horses, dogs, and reindeer
liked. I liked it also very much, for it was so exhilarating, and I felt
so well and so strong. I was ready, nevertheless, for all kinds of
weather, and I was fully prepared to meet great storms, for I wanted to
encounter the blizzards of the Arctic regions just to find out how
strongly the wind could blow. I found out later!
I changed horses at several post stations during the day, among them the
stations of Korpikyla, Niemis, Ruskola, and Matarengi. I found that the
Finnish language was now prevalent, Swedish being only spoken by
comparatively few people.
That day was the end of the fine weather. Towards evening the wind was
blowing very hard, and it increased in strength every minute until it
blew a perfect hurricane. Then what my friends had said to me came to
mind. It was indeed a fearful windstorm!
The gale had become such that the horse at times did not seem to have
strength enough to pull our sleigh. The snow flew in thick cloudy masses
to a great height, curling and recurling upon itself and blinding us.
Fortunately our robes were fastened very securely. I wore my hood, and
it was so arranged that my eyes were the only part of my face that was
not covered. The wind was so powerful that our sleigh was in continual
danger of upsetting, and was only saved because it was so low.
I was glad indeed when I reached the hamlet of Matarengi with its
red-painted log church, two hundred years old, and separate belfry of
the same color.
The windstorm lasted three days. During that time I found that the
temperature varied from 8 to 22 degrees below zero.
Then it became calm, the sky was perfectly clear, and the mercury marked
40 degrees below zero. There was not a breath of wind. It was fine, and
I made ready to continue my journey.
Wherever I changed horse and sleigh, before starting I shook hands with
the station master and his family, and after this bade good-bye to the
driver who had brought me to the place. One must not forget that little
politeness in these northern lands, otherwise the people would think you
ill-bred or proud and would dislike you. No man has ever made friends by
being proud or conceited. It is, after all, very silly, and often very
ill-bred. I have found that one gets along much better in the world by
being polite and obliging. It is so much easier to be pleasant than
sour and gruff. In the former case you are happy; in the latter
discontented and wretched. I always feel sorry when I meet people who
are proud or conceited. Often I laugh at them in my sleeve, and when
that pride or conceit becomes overbearing I have great contempt for
them, and do not wish to have anything to do with them.
I approached very fast the regions of "The Land of the Long Night." The
road was filled with freshly made, huge snowdrifts, which greatly
impeded our progress. Towards noon the wind increased again, and soon I
was in a worse gale than before. I said to myself, "Now I am indeed in
'The Land of the Wind.'"
Suddenly I saw dimly through the clouds of snow the dwellings of a farm.
"Let us go there," I said to my driver, "for we cannot reach the post
station to-day." Our horse evidently thought as we did; he had made up
his mind to go no further, and preferred to be in a stable. He suddenly
turned to the right, entered the yard, and stopped before the
dwelling-house of the farm. I alighted. I was so dizzy from the effects
of the wind that I could not walk straight, and tottered about for a
minute or more. My driver was in the same condition.
I entered the house and found myself in a large room, in the midst of a
family of Finlanders, whose language is very unlike the Swedish or
Norwegian. I was welcomed at once by all.
I looked around, and saw a queer-looking structure, built of slabs of
stone plastered over. It was about seven feet square, the inside
oven-like in shape. They were just lighting a fire; then the door was
closed. In one section of the structure was an open fireplace used for
cooking.
Poles were secured to the ceiling near the fireplace, upon which hung
garments,--stockings, shoes, boots, and other articles. In the middle of
the room was the usual trap-door leading into the cellar. There were two
large hand looms upon which two girls were weaving. These two looms were
very old and had been several generations in the family. Three other
girls were occupied with wheels, spinning wool and flax.
Along the walls of this large room, which was about twenty feet square,
were a number of bench-like sofas, used for beds. Two or three wooden
chairs, and a large wooden table surrounded by wooden benches, made up
the rest of the furniture.
The stove began to heat the room fearfully, for after the firewood had
been reduced to charcoal, and the fumes from it were gone, the sliding
trap-door in the chimney had been closed, thus preventing the heat from
escaping. The thick walls of the oven-like stove had been heated, and
threw out a great deal of heat, which to me soon became unbearable.
The farmer said to me that the walls would remain warm for two or three
days. The windows were all tight; none could be opened, and the only
ventilation came through the door when some one came in or went out.
I went out and looked at the farm buildings while my sleigh was being
made ready. I was surprised to see the buildings of the farm and the big
timber of the log house, for I was so far north. The yard was enclosed
by houses on three sides. The dwelling-house, the barn, and the
cow-houses were the largest buildings. There were besides a blacksmith
shop, a storehouse, and a shed for carts. All these buildings were
painted red.
In the middle of the yard was an old-fashioned well, with its sweep,
having at one end a bucket and at the other a heavy stone, and
surrounded by a thick mass of ice. From the well there was a trough
going into the cow-house, which I entered. The cattle were small and
well-shaped and in good order. The building was very low, the windows
very small and giving but little light. The floor was entirely planked
over, and there were pens on each side.
Looking towards the end of the building I saw a girl standing by a huge
iron pot, about four feet in diameter and three feet deep, encased in
masonry. She was putting coarse marsh grass into the pot, which was
filled with water made warm by a fire underneath. "Much of the grass we
gather," said the farmer, "is coarse, and it is so tough that the cattle
cannot eat it; so we have to prepare it in this way before we give it to
them."
A number of sheep were penned in a corner. "Our three horses," said the
farmer, "have a stable for themselves." This farm was one of the good
farms, and there were a number quite as good. In some the dwellings are
of two stories, but these were the great exception.
In the mean time supper had been prepared. Dry mutton as tough as
leather but cut very thin, smoked reindeer meat, hard bread, butter,
cheese, two wooden bowls of buttermilk, and fish were put on the table.
This was a great repast, in my honor. There was no tablecloth, no
napkin, no fork, the flat bread was used instead of plates, we had
wooden spoons for the sour milk, and helped ourselves to it from the
common dish.
A little after supper came bedtime. The girls, looking at the clock,
which marked nine, suddenly got up to make the beds ready. They pulled
out the sliding boxes, in one of which three of them were to sleep. The
boxes were filled with straw and hay, and had homespun blankets or
sheepskins, and eider down or feather pillows. The sofa-like beds were
all along the walls, for there was a large family.
It was well that I was at the farm. A more terrific windstorm than all
those I had seen before, arose during the night. In the morning the snow
swirled to an immense height, hiding everything from sight; the whole
country was enveloped in a thick cloud; the huge snowdrifts were carried
hither and thither. The storm lasted two days, and after it was over the
weather became calm, the temperature was 40 deg. below zero, and when the
atmosphere was very clear we had about three or four hours of twilight.
Then I bade farewell to the good farmer and his wife, and once more I
was on my way to "The Land of the Long Night," which was now very near.
The next day I came to a little lake the natives called Kunsijarvi, and
further on I came to still another lake called Rukojarvi; and between
these two I had crossed the Arctic Circle. But it was January, the sun
showed itself above the horizon at noon. Near the shore of Lake
Rukojarvi was a solitary farm, where I stopped.