Dusk settles in. First reaction is the sense of panic. Darkness can cause claustrophobic experiences when it wraps you inside its bubble that is surrounded by nameless terrors. I look around one last time before the pitch-black darkness swallows the surrounding landscape. I’m sit down leaning against a rock cairn. This is one of the most remote corners of Finland. True wilderness with its fells, rivers and lakes spreading as far as the eye can see. They call it the Käsivarsi Wilderness Area, but I call it the Old Lapland. The cool rocks against my back also remind me that this is the border of Finland and Norway. I’m sitting at the peak of Muurivaara fell watching how the last traces of light escape behind the snow top peaks in the Norwegian horizon. Even the light from the scales of Leviathan swimming in the Arctic Ocean isn’t sending fires dancing across the night skies. Tonight the stars sleep in the deep silence of North. How small and humbled can one feel out here at the edge humanity’s sphere of interest. Out here where forces older than the brief history of our kind rule.
Slowly the panic fades away as you come to terms with the fact that there’s nothing to be afraid of in the dark. Darkness is just an empty canvas that tells a story of your worst fears, if you choose to abandon reason. I’m out here in the middle of the wilderness, but I know exactly where I’m going. So there’s no reason to be afraid. But where am I coming from and how did I end up here? Maybe it’s my past trailing me that scares me. Painting signs of a coming storms on serene blue skies.
Where should I start? I was born to a loving family at the dawn of 80’s. Era that gave birth to a handful of new metal genres and to the idea that it’s rad to cut bangs. I was raised to respect nature by my father and my grandfather. Nature played a big part in our lives – whether we were at our cabin or fly fishing at some of the best salmon rivers in Central Finland or even hiking in North Norway which became an annual tradition early on. We hiked to a river valley at the roots of remote mountains. King salmon migrates there from the Arctic Ocean to spawn during summers. Those were happy days and I can still return to Langfjordelva in my memories. I remember how high up on the mountains at the headwaters, closer to the roof of the world and the source of the river we saw an immensely vast herd of reindeers. It almost seemed like an army of ants spreading across distances. I remember the raging rapids of Storfossen rushing under a rickety suspension bridge towards a place where we camped. How are campfire blazed as we cooked the catch of the day. I was already on the right path back then, but I was growing restless and somewhere along the way I got lost while trying to find myself.
The further I got from nature the faster I was advancing into the true darkness. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere and I was desperately trying to find my place in the urban environment and modern society. I became anxious, restless and panic attacks started to set the pace of my life. I begun to treat my deteriorating condition, wavering self-esteem and newfound depression with alcohol. Little did I know that I would be enslaved by alcohol for the better part of next two decades. During which my depression would get from worse to severe and my exuberance would distinguish like the stars over Muurivaara.
John Muir said that “The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” I didn’t pick the clearest path. I chose the hard path that took me through my personal hell. Through chaos that had been built from feeble building blocks by my self-tormented mind. I believed that the whole world had turned against me, not realising that it was me who had turned against myself. I had poisoned my mind with my unwavering pessimism and I didn’t see a way out. I guess I could say that I had to find the bottom before I was able to get up again to fight. The old me had to die, so that I could be reborn. Covid-19 offered me a chance to take a break – a chance for introspection and change. This is how I found again my nature connection and strength to fight. I would build a new stronger me that I could get acquainted with. Someone I could share the journey on this new path with my mind at ease. On a path that truly goes through a forest wilderness and into the Universe filled with endless possibilities. Even in the darkness I can now see a glimpse of light. May it be the flickering flame of a lantern in the window of the Norwegian border guard post – or hope. “Get up and get going!” says a familiar voice inside me. This has become my mantra.
I suddenly become aware of the fireflies dancing wildly down in the valley. Hikers are trying to find their way through the endless maze of rocks to Saarijärvi in the spotlight of their headlamps. I need to get up, turn on my headlamp and continue the long journey that would take me through the kingdom of sleeping giants towards Halti. As soon as I turn on my headlamp I feel the familiar spark spreading warmth across my chest. Ahead of me lies a beautiful journey I get to take and countless adventures I get to experience. This only because I finally had the courage to confront myself.
In March it has been two years since I quit smoking. In June it has been two years since I quit drinking – and more importantly decided that I wanted to live. This is my story so far, but it’s only the prologue! The idea to form Headbanger’s Trail came from my love towards nature and from the inspiration and wisdom my newfound source of strength has given me. Welcome on my journey towards happiness!
Today I’m grateful for my family & friends who haven’t given up on me.
-Jukka Pihlajaniemi
