Day 6: Mouni, Finland to Pajala, Sweden | 150km
For the first time on this trip, I woke up actually warm, the bright morning sun turning my tent into a cozy sauna. And for the first time, I felt a spark of excitement about hitting the road again. Right next to the grassy patch where I’d pitched my tent, there was a storm shelter, perfect for sitting down to breakfast while soaking in the view of the river rushing just meters away.
A few minutes later, a couple and their dog emerged from a van, all three of them beaming. We exchanged good mornings and introductions. They were from Germany, traveling around Europe in a massive Mercedes van they’d converted themselves. This was their last big adventure before moving to Canada for work, and judging by their warm smiles, they were savoring every second of it. Some people just have that effortless glow, that natural ability to radiate positivity, and their Labrador shared the same energy.
Jan, the husband, seemed genuinely concerned about someone cycling through this rugged landscape. He offered me water, food and repeatedly asked if there was anything else he could do to help.
Encountering such kindness and generosity in complete strangers might just be the best way to restore anyone’s faith in humanity. I like to think of myself as an optimistic person, but this trip had tested even my usually rosy outlook. Meeting this couple was exactly what I needed to remind me why I was doing this. Yes, the places matter, but the people are almost always the most memorable part of any experience.
A little later, I swung my leg back over the bike and started pedaling. I stopped at the first gas station I saw for a quick coffee, but I didn’t linger. The pull of Sweden was too strong, and I was eager to cross the border before the day was out. The hours flew by, and by 5 pm, I’d rolled into a tiny town just shy of the Finnish-Swedish border.
As a farewell to Finland, a country I’d hadn’t even spent 24-hours in, I pulled into what Google Maps swore was the only open restaurant in town. The place had a lively, welcoming vibe of a local hub. People trickled in, greeting the staff and each other with the easy familiarity of a tight-knit community. And, of course, there was hockey on the TV (it’s Finland after all).
I was starving. After days of relentless cycling, I treated myself to not one, but two bolognese pizzas. Given the modest appearance of the place, those pizzas had no business tasting as good as they did. But they were incredible, some of the best I’ve ever had. And no, it wasn’t just the hunger or the miles in my legs talking.
With warm hands and a full stomach, I refilled my water bottles, hopped back on the bike and pushed on. I passed Pajala looking for a spot to camp, but the ones I found were quite exposed to people living there and bypasses, so I kept pushing until I eventually had to settle for a spot right next to the road. It wasn’t ideal, but it had to make do as it was getting late and my legs were starting to give up.
