Viru bog
I very much recommend a trip to Loksa Tee (the little bus shelter below), and please don't be surprised if you feel like you are destined to die when you are dropped off at this forlorn spot while watching your cozy bus continue on to the Russian border. This thought crossed my mind as a heavy snow commenced and I entered the woods. But you are better off here than in St. Petersburg, and if you do break your ankle you can still get a cellphone signal in Lahemaa National Park (believe me, I checked).
The bog itself has to do with a symbiosis involving lichens and fungi and algae, and nutrients from the air, and over a few thousand years this process creates peat layers that are 20 feet deep. Seems crazy to me, too.
It turns out that Estonia is one of the world's biggest exporters of peat (Canada is No. 1) and that current harvest rates are unsustainable, according to one of the interpretive signs along the boardwalk. The boardwalk is intended to keep you out of the bog. One footstep placed on the bog's moss carpet will be visible for decades, you are warned.
I get it. Will not step. Would not want to add that indignity to what is perhaps the shortest Wikipedia entry in existence.
As soon as I entered the park, the snow stopped, and the sun peeked out here and there. I chose an odd time to visit, after an unusual 48-hour April storm, so there are none of the winsome greens and blues you find on other people's blogs. No, this is a very white post, and I have zero regrets, having escaped the city and getting an opportunity to see things I could only dream of seven weeks ago when I planned this trip.
This tree stand near the beginning of my walk took my breath away. These are either Baltic/Scotch pines or Norwegian spruce. Wish I could distinguish my confiers, I am sorry. That these relative toothpicks are so freaking sturdy makes me want to show this picture to the spindly mesquite in my front yard. "Grow this way!"
The trail is an out-and-back, around 2 miles each way. At the midpoint there is an observation post from which I took the opening picture in this entry.
It was built in 1977.
Once you are past the tower, the walkway becomes much narrower ― and icier for some reason ― and disappears in spots. I start taking light little steps, like an Estonian, not investing too much in any stride. It makes it easier to recover your balance when you have a "whoa" moment, which I did sixteen times today.
I have not seen another human for three hours. The bus ride on the way back to the capital has its charms as well.
