Last weekend, while visiting Johann’s family on the Finnish countryside, he suggested we take a walk to his grandparents’ house.
“OK,” I agreed. “How far is it?”
“It’s 15 minutes by the road,” he said. “But we’ll take the lake because it’s shorter.”
“Come again?” I asked.
“The lake is frozen so we can walk across it,” he explained.
I’m not sure why I was surprised. After all, this is the man who has never seemed to understand when a body of water should be left alone.
“It’s frozen,” he repeated, as though that would settle it. “And it’s covered in snow. It’s fine.”
For the record, this was also how we described the roads earlier in the day and we all agreed to stay off those.
https://www.instagram.com/p/BfV9F0fh69q/?taken-by=adviceineeded
Truth be told, it didn’t take much to convince me to go lake walking. In fact, it was kind of hard to argue at all since ice swimming turned out to be such a fun time last year. Still, that was before I learned of the risks, of which there are many.
“We should take a light,” Johann said just as we were about to leave.
That seemed to be a good idea. It was dusk and the sky was overcast. Johann generally has a good sense of direction, but I don’t want to test his abilities in the middle of the night on a frozen lake in Lappajarvi.
I nodded. “So we don’t get lost?” I asked.
“No,” he answered. “So that we don’t get hit by a car.”
I cocked my head to the side. By now I know that Finnish people do a lot of things that the rest of us find odd. Still I would have thought that driving a car on a small lake would be out of the question even for them. Surely Johann was joking, which, coincidently, is not something that Finnish people do a lot of.
“Are you being serious?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m serious,” Johann said. “People drive on the ice.”
It was an answer that only raised more questions.
“Who?” I demanded. “Who’s driving on a lake?”
“People who need to get to the other side of the lake,” he replied.
And that, my friends, is a knock-knock joke that only a Finnish person could unknowingly tell.
Johann didn’t find a light, though he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of our walk.
“We’ll see the cars coming,” he shrugged, as though that was the part that concerned me.
“Indeed we will,” I muttered.
Then, just as we stepped onto the front porch, Johann’s father posed a question that was so over-the-top ridiculous that I had no choice but to take it seriously. He asked, “Do you have your wolf stick?”
I don’t know what a wolf stick is but based on previous experience, I guessed that it was exactly what it sounded like. I mean, if ice-swimming is swimming in ice water and lake-walking is walking on lakes, one could only assume that a wolf stick is a stick with which to hit a wolf.
For everyone’s entertainment and safety, I decided to ask.
“What’s a wolf stick?” I said.
“It’s a stick that you hit wolves with,” his father answered.
So there you have it.
I took it as a good sign that Johann did not go back into the house in search of a club. This led me to believe that wolves were less of a threat than a four-door sedan.
“Are there really wolves?” I asked.
“No,” he answered, shaking his head.
“How about wolverines?” I asked. “Are there wolverines?”
“There are no wolverines,” he answered.
Now you might think that’s I’m the one who’s joking, but I’m not. In case you don’t know, wolverines are real animals. Not only that, but there have been recent sightings as far south as Helsinki. As you might imagine, people are a little worked up about it because wolverines are not especially nice. In fact, if I were to cobble together a description from my favorite parts of their Wikipedia page and other online sources it would be:
The wolverine, also known as the skunk bear, is equipped with crampon-like claws, hydrophobic fur and molars that rotate 90 degrees. Though roughly the size of a beagle, a member of this species once picked a fight with a grizzly bear over an elk carcass and also killed a polar bear for no apparent reason.
There’s actually no advice in this post, except for this: Wolverines are totally underrated and if you’re someone who enjoyed that honey badger craze back in 2014 then I suggest you pour yourself a stiff drink and watch this nature special. Because a wolverine is basically a honey badger on ice.
Anyway, Johann insisted there were neither wolves nor wolverines in our area and off we went, onto the lake where we immediately came into contact with a car that was being driven so erratically, that under any other circumstances, I would have thought it was full of bees.
But I couldn’t even get mad because Johann was right: we did, in fact, see it coming.
A few minutes into our walk, I heard a distant rumbling. I froze. My mind raced: What was that? Thunder? A pack of wolves? A wolverine chasing a mid-range SUV?
“Oh it’s just the ice moving,” Johann’s mother said without the least bit of emotion. “It makes that sound probably because the cars are driving on it.”
This did not give me peace. As far as I’m concerned, cars are not supposed to be on lakes and ice is not supposed to make noise and people are not supposed to be interacting with wolves. In other words, we were all in direct violation of the natural order it was only a matter of time before one of us paid the price. My first instinct was to lie down on my stomach and army crawl back to the shore, which I might have I done but for the fact that I’d be a lot easier to hit with a car that way.
But Johann’s mother is made from tougher stuff than me. She showed no concern as she paused to listen for the next rumble. Then she turned to me and said, “We say that is the sound of the ice singing.”
It did not sound like a song to me, though I will admit that is the most beautiful way to describe the sound a frozen lake makes when it is disturbed by a carload of teenagers on a Saturday night. It’s what I might say too if I had grown up doing things like ice swimming and lake walking and wolf clubbing. But I did not. I am equal parts small town and big city and the only real experience I have with ice is adding it to alcoholic beverages and slipping on it, sometimes in that order.
Maybe one day I’ll hear it sing. But on Saturday, all I could do was try to get across while keeping everyone – and everything – in one piece.
Girl, I enjoy your posts. I’m 70, a California native, and have lived in the same house for 47 years. I love traveling with you. Thank you.
:) thanks for reading. your comment made my day!
Loved the story! Im enjoying your travels as well!
thank you! xx
I’m a bit of a stay-at-home too, (makes more space out there for you gypsies) and I do understand about ice-on-lakes.
It sounds like a wonderful way to travel, and a neat shortcut. As long as you don’t have winter thaws…
yes, as long as you don’t have winter thaws… or wolves… or minivans full of bees :)
This might be my favorite post yet. Your life is endlessly fascinating.
Oh thank you!! Who knew ice could be so exciting? :) I have to catch up on your posts soon.
I love this one and the pictures too.
Thanks, aMOMymous. :) If you decide to come to Finland, I will take you to the countryside… you guys will have to work on using your inside voices even when outside because people are QUIET here. It’s a real struggle for me.
“It’s a stick that you hit wolves with,” his father answered.
So there you have it.
HILARIOUS! LOL
I thought so too… Just call the thing what it is. Why complicate things, you know? Thanks for reading.
I had a baby and took a hiatus from much blog reading – have never commented before, but what a treat to have a whole bunch of unread posts.
Your wolverine description. I just. AWESOME.
aw – that made my day. hope you enjoy the catching up in what little down time you must have. congratulations!!