Kilpelän Luomutila ja Sen Ympäristö: Biking With Savu

Me with my biking buddy, Savu.

Heading up the lane to the corner of our farm.

My son Samuel built this bridge over a low spot on our singletrack, but we have had so much rain this summer that it needs to be longer.

The trail goes through a valley and passes this huge boulder left by the glacier. I believe these are termed glacial erratics because they are strewn randomly about the landscape.

The picture doesn't do it justice, but this is a bench that Sam built along the hillside. If you were to roll off it you would likely take a tumble into the valley.

A rock crossing that Sam built. I built the entire length of the trail originally, but Sam has made a lot of improvements.

I have also heard from a number of people that they enjoy walking along it as well.

A rockpile along an old fence line. When I consider how much work the original settlers did to create farms in this area I wonder what they would think to see it today. That kind of hard physical work makes mountain biking feel like a frivolous activity by comparison.

Savu never falls. He can climb any hill, race down any trail, jump over any obstacles. For every mile I put on the ride he puts on two or three chasing critters and investigating scents.

From the singletrack we turn onto the old railroad bed which was built around 1900.

Near the top of "Gun Hill", named by my kids because locals target practiced at a bank and left plenty of shell casings on the ground for the boys to collect.

Almost to Mud Lake.

There's not much muddy about Mud Lake. It is becoming a sphagnum bog surrounded by heather.

Only a small area of open water still exists.

Savu is a Siberian Husky with bloodlines from the dogs imported to Alaska by the famous musher Leonard Seppala in the early 1900's. Savu is lean and fast and has remarkable endurance. I have never tired him out on a mountain bike.

A short, steep climb on the trail behind Mud Lake.

The trail climbs a big hill that never fails to get me huffing and puffing.

After the hill, the trail goes mostly downhill through some moderately fast sections, always a pleasure to ride.

Back to the old railroad bed, along which is built a powerline.

We stopped at Messner Lake to see how high the water is.

In some summers the lake dries almost completely up. This is not one of those years.

Heading up toward Trimountain on Les Cobbles. The Tour de France often includes stages on old cobblestone lanes that rattle the teeth of the riders. You can do the same thing here, but it's best done on a full-suspension mountain bike. Courtesy of the glacier.

Once again the picture doesn't do it justice. This is the beginning of climb up to the old firetower site. It is a killer. I can make it about halfway up before I flop over. My boys, at least three of them, can pedal right to the top. I've witnessed. The key to a climb like this is to have the proper weight/strength ratio. I'm sure I have the strength, but I am too fat. Still, I hope to be able to climb it one of these days. It's really very simple. If I weighed what I did when I graduated from high school, I would be able to shoot up this hill like a squirrel climbing a tree. Of course it would help to have a teenager's metabolism, wouldn't it?

Trees marked for cutting.

A forester selects the trees to be removed and marks them with a paint gun. To improve a stand, the smaller and poorly formed trees are cut, leaving room for the best ones to grow.

One of the nice things about biking logging roads is that you get to appreciate the scenery. I enjoy regular bike trails - singletrack - but your focus must stay fixed on the trail. I have often remarked to my biking companions, "We are sure riding through some beautiful scenery that I ain't seeing." It is enjoyable in that it challenges your fitness and bike handling skills, but if you start gawking at the scenery you'll be kissing a tree or doing the classic over-the-handlebars dismount before you know it.

These leaves will be gone in a little over a month. It pays to take time to appreciate them while they are here. May is long time from now.

Back-lit maples leaves. I remember my Finnish wife Marja's reaction to these when she first saw them. Maple trees are rare in Finland, and to her looking up at a maple leave canopy was nothing short than magical. She was right of course. Take time to look up. Don't worry, your head won't fall off your neck.

Green in many shades.

Savu doesn't spend much time looking up. But he has a nose than can pick up an incredible palette of scents. He lives in an olfactory world. If your sniffer works that well, then you too can keep you nose to the ground.

In our area, the woods are quite open, with only a thin layer of underbrush. No thorns, no vines, no tangles. Once the leaves fall you can walk anywhere in the woods and see the ground.

The trail back down runs through a thick "dog hair" stand of young trees. Apparently this area was very heavily thinned in the past so that the young trees grew thick.

Goldenrod blooming at an log yard opening.

Heading down one of my favorite long downhills. You can really rip on this one.

But it's good to take in the scenery as well.

About of mile from home, heading through a recent clearcut that was sprayed with herbicide this summer to prepare the section to be replanted with pines. Shortly after I took this picture I encountered a work crew of hispanic men gathered around a couple of trucks filled with tanks of what I guessed was herbicide. They had backpack type spraying equipment and I wondered what kind of protective clothing and gear they used. I would have stopped but they were speaking Spanish and I didn't want to make them feel uncomfortable by asking questions in English. It was a sobering moment to realize that this kind of hazardous work is farmed out to immigrant labor.