Day 20: Back to the island, silence, cranberries

We decide to go back to the island, to Piirisaare, where we were in August with the small boat of Pjotr. The weather is still grey and it's often rainy, so we don't even call Pjotr to ask for another ride in his motorboat - it wouldn't be a ride just as pleasant and fun as in summer. Instead, we take the ferry that we've seen in summer, which goes from the mainland to the brand-new harbour of Piirisaare.

In this season, the ferry goes only once per week, there and back on the same day. What a feeling it must be to live in a place where only once per week, you get any real contact to the outside world... and supplies, probably, and a chance to go to the city perhaps, or to get back from it.

Piirisaare feels deserted. It's like a journey back in time, to a place where wooden houses stand, but you don't quite know where the people all are. It's this seasonal change all over again, just like on the mainland. But on Piirisaare, we think it weighs much heavier. The place is so isolated that the mood shift of the seasons must have even more extreme consequences. Though perhaps autumn is the worst season on the island, since in winter, it might be possible to just walk off the island and over to the mainland. We don't actually think people would do this often, as we've seen in summer, the population of the island is rather old in average.

We walk around the island, Maria whom we had met back in August is not around, but that's even a good thing we believe, since on our last visit we were mostly talking with her and, being lead around and driven around by her, didn't have much of a chance to talk with other people who'd maybe have a different view on particularly the nature reserve topic that was so dear and emotional to her.

As we walk around the islands, we permanently feel like the villages have become pastel coloured ghost towns. The silence is nearly absolute, and it's rare to spot any sign of life. Finally, we meet two ladies, who are both from Tartu but like to come to Piirisaare for the silence. The men we meet aren't that talkative. The population seems to be decreasing all the time, and indeed, we are told that again some inhabitants have died and others have moved away: The harsh living conditions and the lack of medical care take their toll. Either you move to a better equipped place closer to civilization before your health is too frail, or you decide to stay and probably die from something that could easily be cured were you living in a town on the mainland. It must be a difficult decision for those who leave. We've experienced people here to be very rooted, also and particularly on the island.

Then we figure out that the local store is, naturally, the meeting point: The lady who runs it just came back from the mainland with the same ferry (and her Citroen Berlingo), and brings new goods to her shop. Short after she arrives from the mainland, it seems the entire village gathers in her shop to buy the new groceries. We stop for a chat, but there's a lot of action in the shop, so we think we'll maybe get back in winter. We wonder how the shop survives with its limited number of clients, and what brings the shopkeeper to working here. Probably she is from the region, what else would lead her to such a remote place, but we'll have to ask her in winter, this time, the shop was too busy, and our ferry back to the mainland leaving (and since these go only once per week, we really didn't want to miss it...).

On our way back, we drive through a part of the national park territory south of Varnja, and meet a bunch of guys who just come out of the forest with baskets full of cranberries. We buy some berries from them, and start to chat a little bit, and we can't help phantasizing how it would be to reshoot Marc's favourite movie with these guys in the lead roles.