A forest wild and ancient, untouched by man. A well-worn path where the sun glints through the branches overhead.
It is spring: the temperature mild in the shade, warm in the sun - and when the path veers within sight of the sea, a blast of chilling winter hits my cheeks. The sea open, endless in almost every direction - we are on The Island after all - and wide stretches of impossibly white ice still floating in the clear blue water. I could go mad trying to describe the beauty.
Someone spots a snake, just out of its hibernation. Eagles patrol the blue skies. Near the shore we find a stone oven supposedly built by Russian sailors who passed by in the early 18th century. "Do you think they baked pizza in here?"
Some of my companions on this hike are experienced walkers who think nothing of walking for weeks up and down mountains with a backpack. Others have just stumbled out of bed this afternoon after a late night party. A few are obsessive-compulsive geocachers who have to make a couple of detours to find treasures along the way. Today, I love them all. Who wouldn't, when the sun is melting the ice after a cold winter and people are smiling at you?
We reach the end of the trail, a fishing cottage surrounded by the sea and the sky, and the map tells us we are almost in the middle of the Baltic Sea. A landscape of rocks, juniper and rowan. We unpack our picnic on a tiny beach where the cold wind can't reach us. Stretch out in the sun. Share sandwiches and sweets and coffee and jokes.
And a little flirting on the walk back. Yes, life is perfect.
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