Night Alone at the Bog

Night in a hammock in the Finnish wilderness, searching for cranes

Once again, I made a completely spontaneous decision to head out on an adventure. In fact, only about an hour and a half after making up my mind, I was already ready to leave.

I’ve wanted to spend a night beside this nearby bog for a long time. In my imagination, its stillness transforms after dark into something wilder and more mysterious. I pictured cranes calling through the night, and perhaps even something straight out of an old folktale happening... Bogs hold a special place in Finnish folklore, filled with myths, legends, and old beliefs. Although Finns are generally outdoor people, a bog is certainly not somewhere most would choose to spend the night. The terrain is difficult, and because the ground is so wet, finding a place for a tent is almost impossible.

As a camper, I’m probably a bit unusual. I’m not the person who counts kilometres, packs everything into dry bags, and prepares for every possible scenario. I’m more interested in adventure, natural beauty, and pushing myself a little outside my comfort zone. I often find myself doing things in a way that is probably not recommended.

This trip began with me marching onto the bog wearing hiking boots and carrying a backpack. In a separate bag, I had packed my rubber boots. I honestly have no idea why I didn’t just wear them from the start. I had to change into them almost as soon as I reached the bog, and after that I never needed the hiking boots again. In the end, I carried them all that way for absolutely no reason.

I left my gear by the little pond and set off to explore the side of the bog I hadn’t visited before. One of the things I love about bogs is how many different kinds of plant communities you can find there. One area was covered in marsh calla, looking almost like a patch of houseplants growing in the wild.

fishbone beard lichen, Usnea filipendula, Finnish: riippunaava

Another interesting discovery was the fishbone beard lichen hanging from the trees. It’s a good indicator of clean air.

I also found some cloudberries. Someone had already picked most of them, but it was still lovely to find a few left to taste. I spotted a beautiful blue dragonfly as well, and to photograph it I literally crawled across the bog on my stomach to get close enough without disturbing it.

common blue damselfly, Enallagma cyathigerum (Finnish: okatytönkorento)

Then it was time to set up camp. I have some difficulty judging distances, so I almost always end up hanging my hammock between trees that are far too close together. This time was no exception.

I sent my partner a photo of my hammock and let him know where I was spending the night. His immediate response was that the trees were too close together.

After choosing a better pair of trees, I moved my hammock there and sent him another photo. He asked if I was going to put up the tarp, and I told him I wasn’t. I didn’t think it was going to rain.

He insisted that I should put it up anyway. According to the forecast, it was supposed to rain during the night.

Party pooper.

Well, I spent the next half hour wrestling with the tarp. It was enormous. And I’m short. My mood started to sink as I realized my lovely hammock setup was in danger of turning into something that felt more like sleeping inside a tent. From under the tarp, I couldn’t see anything around me.

Eventually, I came up with the idea of folding the tarp in half. That made it much more manageable, and I could finally see the bog and the pond again. Then I made an evening coffee, just to make sure I’d have to get up to pee during the night. (Yes, that was sarcasm.)

Dinner was a simple ready-made pasta meal. I sat there among the Labrador tea, eating and enjoying the sphagnumness. Looking around, I couldn’t help thinking that I could probably have fallen asleep right there on the soft bog beneath me.

The little pond was home to several common goldeneyes, and they seem to be there every time I visit. I watched them splashing around, which was almost the only sound they made. They’re surprisingly quiet birds.

Then I climbed into my hammock and read an e-book on my phone for a while. I keep dreaming about getting an e-reader. It would be perfect for trips like this, but in Finland they aren’t really a practical option because of the limited availability of e-books.

I tried to fall asleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. Then I heard an animal nearby. It made a strange sound, somewhere between a snort, a neigh, and a bark. Lying in a hammock, I suddenly felt quite vulnerable. A moment later, I heard it enter the water. The splashing was loud — much louder than the ducks — and it went on for quite a while. I sat up and tried to make out what it was, but it was far too dark, and before I could see anything, the sound stopped.

Afterwards, I listened to recordings of different animals, and I’m fairly sure it was a wild boar. I also learned that wild boars are excellent swimmers, which would certainly fit what I heard that night.

By then, the mosquitoes had finally appeared. They found me while I was eating dinner and followed me to my hammock. Their constant whining made it even harder to fall asleep. Then it started to rain (good thing I'd had the brilliant idea of putting up the tarp), which conveniently drowned out the mosquitoes.

I didn’t sleep very well and kept waking up throughout the night as it rained on and off. At five in the morning, I woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, got out of the hammock for the inevitable coffee-related mission, and then somehow managed to fall asleep again until almost ten.

When I got up, it was cloudy, grey, and damp. I made coffee and porridge under the tarp using my little gas stove. I was a little disappointed that the cranes weren’t calling this time. Instead, I watched the common goldeneyes through my binoculars, following their diving and splashing.

I went to admire the cranberries growing on the open, treeless side of the bog. They won’t be ripe until autumn, but it looks like there will be a good harvest.

Then it was time to pack up camp. It went surprisingly smoothly. The tarp was still soaking wet, though, and there was no chance I was going to fold it neatly back into its bag. I stuffed it into a separate bag with my boots and started the walk back.

Just as I reached the edge of the bog, I finally heard the calls of cranes. Finally! I left my gear where it was and headed towards the sound. I walked a long way out onto the bog, scanning the landscape with my binoculars and searching for them. Just as I was about to give up, they called again, and this time I spotted them. What magnificent birds. There's something almost dinosaur-like about them. Watching them stride across the bog while calling to each other, it's easy to imagine a much older world. Their calls carry for remarkable distances. Then they took off. I found a few feathers on the bog and kept them as a souvenir.

At the end, there is a video where you can hear the magnificent calls of the cranes and also see the goldeneyes splashing in the water.

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