As we're staying on a reindeer farm, we reckon we should be able to get some great shots of reindeer. After breakfast, and making cheese and ham sandwiches for later, we head forth into the wider park. We walk along the wonderfully constructed wooden planked path snaking up the hill looking to shoot ourselves some reindeer. But they're sneaky! In the farthest distance if you squint and use the biggest zoom, you might just see an antler or a white tail bobbing away even further from us. Shades of those flamingos in Carmargue last year, I suspect! iReindeer, anyone?
We don't manage to capture a good Dasher, Dancer, Prancer or Rudolph photograph, so head off to photograph an ancient woodland instead. It's not as if the wood can be so evasive, can it? The wood is nothing like I've ever seen, it hadn't been copsed in maybe forever and has just run wild. The moss is so overgrown that it has formed large balls, the size of a small stool perhaps. They appear to be soft, springy and cushion-y, I test this theory by flinging myself down on them to get up close and personal with some fungi. If I ever have to spend a night in a forest, I hope I can make a bed out of moss like this.
We find suitable fallen trees to perch on and tuck into our lunch. Dirk has also brought along a large flask containing some delicious home-made salmon soup.
Further into the wood, whilst walking over more of the ubiquitous wooden walkways, I can see the ground below is entirely carpeted with a myriad of tiny yellow, green, red and pink leaves, it's just beautiful. Brian (the tripod) and I pose for a selfie against the floral backdrop.
After our woody exploration we return for dinner and then sit down by the tranquil mirror lake again, watching the birds and the sun slowly setting. Whilst sitting in a perfect place like this so still, so quiet, I always feel I need to store up this moment of utter serenity to recall again when everything is so much more frenetic.
We're staying close to home tonight for our next shot at the Northern Lights. We collect our tripods and a few more layers and walk out on the main road. Well, when I say main, there isn't a soul about, or a car. At the corner of the road is a swing seat and some mail boxes, and we suspect, a bus shelter. Above the mail box/shelter structure is a weather vane adorned with a Father Christmas in his sleigh, pulled by a team of flying reindeer. So we surmise it's a Father Christmas stop, or perhaps where you wait to board a vehicle to go and meet the jolly man in red himself. We ponder borrowing the swing seat to carry it over to where we will be standing looking skyward tonight.
Rob has already headed off to scope the best spot for us near a large pond, whilst Lorraine and Jill find a likely spot on the other side of the road. But they are disturbed by another near naked man who's appeared in his doorway to let his dog out. They're not entirely sure what the reaction might be if he spots a couple of cameras mounted with zoom lens on tripods apparently trained at his house. We don't really want to have Rob and all future groups banned from here!
We all go and check out the spot that Rob scouted, directly in front of a fisherman's hut. The ground is rather boggy and challenging to stand on with or without the addition of a mounted tripod. I end up finding a spot to sit on and truly wish I'd remembered to pack any waterproof clothing. My new waterproof skirt would have been very handy here, I'd also succumbed to obtaining a pair of the much hated (by me, anyway) waterproof trousers. And there's my new Scottevest jacket or gilet but no, all of them have been left at home. Instead I opt to suffer from rising damp during the hours waiting for *that* shot.
Rob tried to liven up our view by light painting the hut. Luckily we had lots of attempts, sometimes too bright, the next time barely discernible and then the suddenly the hut is all shades of red. Part of our equipment list was a head torch that had a red as well as a white light. The red is a much duller light so hence doesn't affect your night vision as turning on a bright white light does. But I think we occasionally labour under the misapprehension that it renders us invisible on camera. But what it actually does is light paint the rowing boats on the first night, the hut tonight with an eerie rosy glow. We all have many images that perhaps depict a Martian landscape rather than Lapland.
Tonight's Aurora is not as dramatic as previous nights but the light painted fisherman's hut definitely added an extra dimension and in my favourite shot almost looks as if some spooky glow is emanating from inside the hut itself.
On returning to our log cabin we're way too tired to upload photos or put anything away. I stand Brian up in the middle of the lounge area and when I peel my furry gilet off I just hang it lazily from the tripod head. When Jill gets up in the middle of the night she has a fright as suspects a bear might have entered our generally unlocked cabin (we found these Finnish locks very fiendish, either we couldn't unlock our hut or lock it again). But it wasn't a bear it was Brian, and he's harmless, a pussy-cat if you will!
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