Through Finland in Carts Part 28

Here and there where we travelled, the forests were on fire--fires luckily not caused by those chance conflagrations, which do so much harm in Finland, but duly organised to clear a certain district. Matters are arranged in this wise: when a man wants to plough more land, he selects a nice stretch of wood, saws down all the big trees, which he sledges away, the next set (in point of size) he also hews down, but leaves where they fall, with all their boughs and leaves on, till the sun dries them. Then he makes a fire in their midst, the dried leaves soon catch, and in a few hours the whole acreage is bare except for the tree trunks, which are only charred and serve later for firewood. All the farm hands, often augmented by neighbours, a.s.sist at these fires, for although a man may wish to clear two or three acres, if the flames were not watched, they would soon lay twenty or thirty bare, and perhaps destroy an entire forest. The ashes lie on the ground and become manure, so that when, during the following summer, he begins to plough, the sandy soil is fairly well-fed, and ultimately mildly prolific. He is very ingenious this peasant, and takes the greatest care not to let the flames spread beyond his appointed boundary, beating them with huge sticks, as required, and keeping the flames well in hand. The disastrous forest fires, caused by accidental circ.u.mstances, spoil the finest timber, and can only be stayed in their wild career, as we remarked elsewhere, by digging trenches, over which the roaring flames cannot pa.s.s. Such fires are one of the curses of Finland, and do almost as much harm as a flight of locusts in Morocco.

"How old are those trees we see, twenty or thirty years?"

Our friend the _Kommerserdet_ smiled.

"Far, far more," he replied; "speaking roughly, every tree eight inches in diameter twenty feet from the ground is eighty years old, nine inches ninety years, ten inches a hundred years old, and so on."

We were amazed to think that these vast forests should be so old, for if it took so long for a tree to grow, and so many millions were felled every year, it seemed to us that the land would soon be barren.

"Not at all," our friend replied; "a forest is never cleared. Only trees which have reached a proper girth are felled. In every forest but a certain number of trees are cut each year, so that fresh ones are in a continuous stream taking their places."

Rich merchants possess their own forests, their own saw-mills, their own store houses, and even their own s.h.i.+ps; but the bulk of exporters pay for cut timber. In hiring a forest the tenant takes it on lease for so many years with the right to fell all trees so soon as they reach certain dimensions. The doomed trees are marked, and now we must follow their after course.

In the autumn and winter they are felled and left for the first fall of snow, when they are dragged, sometimes two or three logs one behind the other fixed together with iron chains, to the nearest open road for further conveyance by sledge when the snow permits.

No single horse could move such a weight in summer, but by the aid of sledges and snow all is changed, and away gallop the little steeds down the mountain side, pushed forward at times by the weight behind. By this means the trees are conveyed to the nearest waterway.

Then the logs are stamped with the owner's registered mark and rolled upon the ice of lake or river, to await the natural transport of spring.

Once the ice thaws the forests begin to move, for as "Birnam Wood marched to Dunsinane," the Finnish forests float to other lands.

Imagine the helter-skelter of those thousands of trees over the roaring, rus.h.i.+ng waterfalls, or along the rapidly flowing cataracts and flooded rivers. To prevent these wooden horses getting caught-up on the banks along their watery course, men with long poles "personally conduct" huge batches to the coast, or, where they are likely to get fixed, a sort of wooden fencing is built in the river to direct their course. On, on they voyage, those soldiers of the forest, for hundreds of miles to the coast, till, finally arriving at such an enormous wood export town as _Kotka_, they meet their doom.

Wherever the chain of waterways is composed of large lakes, the logs are conveyed to the coast by means of enormous rafts. It is really most ingenious; head and tail into a ring half-a-mile or more in circ.u.mference float the pine trees, coupled together by iron clamps.

Inside these the newly-cut logs, which look like a rope of sausages, are thrust end on end, until they make a perfectly solid floor floating on the surface of the water. Now, as a raft of this kind contains many thousand logs, which means a considerable amount of money value, it is conveyed to the coast with the greatest care. At one end a small house is built on the raft itself, on which live the two or three men who have to escort this floating island across the lakes, attend to the logs that get out of place, or secure the fastenings of the outside wood which binds the whole together.

Naturally it takes some weeks for such a vast island to reach the coast, and as it is sometimes necessary for various reasons to stop on the journey, a horse goes on the raft so as to let down or pull up the anchor when necessary. It is truly wonderful to think that on a floating ma.s.s of tree trunks, merely bound together by a primitive barrier or outside ring, men should live for weeks, and a horse should have its stabling. Yet such is the case, and many times during our three months'

summer sojourn in Finland we pa.s.sed these floating islands wending their way to the coast.

Of course, it is understood rafts can only travel over the vast lakes, and that on rivers the wood must go separately in the manner before described. But in such a river as the _Ule_, where the salmon fis.h.i.+ng is of as great importance, if not greater than wood, the latter are only allowed to pa.s.s down until the day when salmon fis.h.i.+ng commences. On the completion of the floating season the stock logs at _Kotka_ often amount to a million pieces. That alone gives some idea of this wonderful industry. About a mile above _Kotka_ the logs are received by the floating inspector and his trained sorters, who separate and distribute, according to the marks thereon, the logs to their respective owners.

Large floating houses await their arrival, and as the back part of these sheds are divided by half a dozen or so openings leading into the water pens, the men at work quickly turn the timber over, see the owners'

names, and by means of a pole steer it into the s.p.a.ce belonging to that owner, so that in time each water pen becomes filled with the trees belonging to its proprietor.

All this time the steam saw-mills are waiting for their prey, and, like the pigs at Chicago who come out smoked and cooked hams, according to tradition, the trees that go in have half a dozen saws run into them at once, and out come boards and planks of various thicknesses and widths.

The middle bit--the plum of the cake--is the worst in this instance, for it contains the heart, which is bad wood for working as it splits and twists on drying; the rest is converted into deals, battens, and boards.

The outside slab pieces are made into staves for barrels, while the general odds and ends that remain behind are used as fuel for engines, steamboats, or private house consumption in Finland, where coal being practically unknown, wood takes its place.

The sawn wood is stacked up for miles and miles along the waterside to season ready for export, and, as a rule, the Finnish owners sell their timber with the clause that it should be ready to be s.h.i.+pped at "first open water," when away go the pines, cargo after cargo, the best being sent to England, and other qualities to France, Germany, etc. Thus from Finland comes much of the wood that makes our floors, our window frames, our railings, and our doors, and lights our daily fires--it enters the peasant hut, and it finds a place in the royal palace.

Another big trade is birch--a cla.s.s of wood cut up into reels and bobbins for England; and yet another is aspen, which wood is supplied to Sweden in large quant.i.ties to make matches. Not only are matches pure and simple made enormously in Sweden; but when leaving Gothenburg on our homeward journey we saw hundreds of large cases being put on board our steamer. Although very big, one man carried a case with ease, much to our surprise, for anything so enormous in the way of cargo was generally hoisted on board with a crane. What a revelation! These cases contained match boxes, which are sent by thousands every week to England.

There is an enormous export of wood spirit made from sawdust; yet even then, until lately, it was difficult to get rid of the superfluous sawdust, a great deal of which was burned away in large furnaces.

Sawdust now plays an important role in the trade of Finland, and silk factories have been started, for pulp; for our French friends have found that beautiful fabrics can be made from wood, which takes dye almost better than silk woven by a painstaking little worm, only costs a fraction of the money, and sells almost equally well.

So that wood for building purposes, for matches or fuel, pulp for paper, sawdust for spirit and silk, are the outcome of the life of a Finnish tree. People can be clothed in wood, get drunk on wood, read print on wood, and get warmed and their food cooked by wood.

CHAPTER XIV

THROUGH SAVOLAX IN CARTS

We were in despair!

By the kindness of the Governor of the district everything had been arranged for a drive of a couple hundred miles through some of the prettiest parts of the country from _Kuopio_ to _Iisalmi_. We were to have a carriage with a hood (a rare honour) and two horses, to dawdle as we liked by the way, and just order our vehicle when and as we wanted it, so that we might really peep into the homes of the people, as well as avail ourselves of the Baron's many kind introductions. But late on the afternoon before that named for leaving, our cicerone Grandpapa found it was imperative for him to remain a couple of days longer in _Kuopio_ to receive his sisters who were to join our party, therefore we found ourselves stranded so far as his escort was concerned.

"How were we two Englishwomen to travel alone through the very centre of Finland, where no one spoke a word except his own language?" asked the Governor.

"Perfectly," we replied; "we can travel anywhere, so far as that goes, by signs and with a map; but, of course, we shall _learn_ nothing more than what we can see with our eyes, for we shall not know how to ask for information, and therefore half the pleasure and interest of the journey will be lost."

[Ill.u.s.tration: BURNING THE FORESTS.

(After Eero Jarnefelt.)]

"Were I not compelled to go on an official journey to-morrow," replied the fine, tall, and charming Governor, "I should come myself--as it is, will you accept the escort of my son?"

"Willingly, thankfully," we replied.

Baron George spoke French, German, and Swedish, and was a good Finnish scholar besides. _He_ was to have gone on a bicycle tour that very afternoon, but kindly altered all his plans to pa.s.s a couple of days as our guide, cicerone, and friend, and a third on his return journey alone.

Accordingly we started at nine A.M. on the next morning, and drove over sixty miles through Finland during the two following days, by a route soon to be followed by railway engines, for it had already been surveyed for that purpose, and little posts here and there denoted the projected route.

Seen off by the Governor's family, who had shown us the greatest hospitality and kindness during our stay in _Kuopio_, we were peeped at by half the town as we started; for English people, and a hooded vehicle driving through _Savolax_ was no mean event, especially when these same visitors had been entertained by the Governor of the district.

After a spin of five kilometres, or about two and a half English miles, we reached the _lossi_, and our adventures began. A mile and a half of water had to be crossed; naturally there was no bridge, nor was there any friendly ice on those hot days, therefore a _lossi_ or boat, rather like a river barge, conveys pa.s.sengers--a _rara avis_--horses, and carriage right over that wide expanse of lake. Our hearts sank when we saw the boat. It was simply a sh.e.l.l, without seats or even a platform for the carriage. The old boat was big, but our equipage appeared even bigger, and we looked on in dismay, wondering how on earth we were ever to get across unless we took half a dozen journeys, in bits, to and fro.

Afterwards our dismay turned to admiration at the skill with which the whole thing was accomplished. First, our pair of mustard-coloured ponies, with long tails, big bodies and small legs--who, by the bye, went splendidly for two long days--were unharnessed, their primitive trappings, much mended with string and rope, being thrown into our carriage; then two planks of wood were laid from the empty boat to the top step of the landing-stage on which we stood, men, seizing each of the four wheels, slowly trundled the heavy carriage along those planks to the barge's side. So far so good; but the boat was in the water, and the carriage some feet higher up on the pier; more planks being speedily arranged, however, it was most cleverly slipped down the pier's side on them, and after others had been placed the right distance apart for the wheels to stand on, into the boat itself. So there our victoria--if we may call our vehicle by so grand a name--stood right across the boat, its pole and bar being reflected in the lake, over which they hung on the one side, the luggage and hood of the vehicle projecting over the water on the other.

As though accustomed to such strange feats, those "mustard pots" walked down the steps of the primitive pier, lifted their feet over the boat's side most dexterously--as a lady in fine shoes might daintily cross some muddy road--and stood head and tail next the carriage.

A Finnish pony is a marvel. He has no chest, is so narrow, one almost wonders, when standing before his head, where his body can really be. He has fine legs with good hoofs and fetlocks; he looks ill-groomed and ill-cared for, his tail is long and bushy, and his mane unkempt. Yet he goes up hill or down dale at a good pace (averaging six miles an hour), and he will do thirty miles easily in a day and not turn a hair. They are wonderful little animals these mustard-coloured steeds of Finland, and as agile and sure-footed as a cat, although not so famous as the fast trotters of _Suomi_.

Then we three got in and sat down, in what little s.p.a.ce remained, finding room on planks placed between the wheels. We certainly made a boat full, and a queer cargo we were.

Two women "ferrymen" found room to row in front, the coachman attended to his horses, one of which was inclined to be restive, while a man, whose flaxen hair was so light it looked positively white against his red burnt neck, stood rowing behind us; and thus in three-quarters of an hour we reached the other side, in as wonderful a transport as the trains we had seen put on steamers in Denmark, Sicily, or the States, but much more exciting and primitive.

Gaily and cheerfully, meantime, we discussed the prospects of our visit to Lapland; for the Northern part of Finland is the country of reindeer and Laps, and thither we had made up our minds to go as a fitting finish to our summer jaunt. From _Uleborg_ we were to take the steamer to _Tornea_, and there to commence a drive which promised to be most interesting, if a little cold and perhaps not quite so pretty as our long journey through _Savolax_ in _karra_ or carts.

We drove on through lovely scenery till twelve o'clock, when we arrived at a post-house for luncheon.

What a scene met our eyes! An enormous kitchen, a wooden-floored, ceilinged and walled room about thirty feet square, boasting five windows--large and airy, I was about to say, but it just missed being airy because no fresh breeze was ever allowed to enter except by the door. At one end was the usual enormous fireplace, with its large chimney and small cooking stove, into which wood had continually to be piled, coal being as unknown to the inland Finn as the sea-serpent itself. At the other end of the room, opposite the fireplace, was a large wooden table with benches arranged along two sides, at which the labourers were feeding, for the one o'clock bell hanging above the roof had just been rung by the farmer, and they had all come in for their mid-day meal. It was really a wonderful scene; five men wearing coloured s.h.i.+rts, and four women, with white handkerchiefs over their heads, were sitting round the table, and between each couple was a small wooden, long-handled pail, from which the pair, each duly provided with a wooden spoon, were helping themselves. Finnish peasants--and until lately even Finnish town servants--all feed from one pot and drink from one bowl in truly Eastern fas.h.i.+on. The small wooden receptacle, which really served as a basin, contained _piimaa_ or skimmed milk that had gone sour, a composition somewhat allied to _skyr_, on which peasants live in Iceland, only that _skyr_ is sheep's milk often months old, and _piimaa_ is cow's milk fairly fresh. This _piimaa_ with sour black bread and salted but uncooked small fish (_suolo-kala_) is the peasant's fare, yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow, almost always the same! These people never taste meat, unless it be for a treat salted, while fresh vegetables are unknown, cabbage even being a luxury. Each labourer pulled his _puukko_ (knife) from its sheath at his waist--alas, too frequently pulled in anger--and cutting hunks of brown bread, dragged a fish like a sardine (only it was dry and salt) from another wooden tub, and cutting off bits ate them together, after the fas.h.i.+on of a sandwich, helping himself every now and then with a wooden spoon to a lump of the sour milk, or, when his companion was not doing the same, raising the pail--the wooden walls of which were half an inch thick--to his lips and drinking the more watery part of his harmless liquor.

_Haili_ also haunted us in every peasant home. It is another species of small fish which the peasants eat raw, a little salt being its only preparation. They seem to buy or catch _haili_ by the ton, and then keep them for months in the cellar. We were always seeing them eat these _haili_, which looked something like sprats, and tasted ineffably nasty.

On high days and holidays they partake of them accompanied with baked potatoes; but potatoes are somewhat rare, and therefore the fish on black bread alone const.i.tutes the usual meal. Sometimes better-cla.s.s folk eat _haili_, but then they have them grilled on charcoal; these are rich people, for coal is as great a luxury to them even as potatoes to the poor.

They seemed very happy, those men and women who had been up and hard at work in the fields since three or four in the morning, and would not have finished their day's labour till between eight and nine P.M., for the summer is short, and while it lasts the peasant gets little or no sleep, his entire livelihood depending upon almost incessant work during the light warm days. I believe many people only sleep for a couple of hours during the summer light, and make up for it in the provinces in winter when it is dark. It was the 10th of July; the hay was cut everywhere, and thrown up on the wooden palings erected for that purpose, or the old pine trees stuck here and there, to dry before being piled up on little sledges that were to convey it to the nearest wooden shanty, to be stacked for winter use.