Down west sinks the Sun

I haven't been out with a tent for what seems like a thousand years, and was very pleased when we finally took the road last week. We've travelled Laulasmaa - "The Land of Singing Sand" - and set our tent on a sandy belt between the sea and the pine forest. 

The smell of pine resin was so strong, I felt tingling in my nose, and all the tiny life was busy bustling about in the still-hot August sun.

Maestro found a gorgeous orange-cop boletius, which I couldn't stop drawing.

As the sun began to set, we hurried to gather the firewood enough to last us through the night. It is amazing how these instincts sleep inside one's mind, and wake up when the time is right - I mean, we did, of course, know we would need to light a fire, but it was the image of the sun declining towards the horizon, which almost made me panic at the thought of a black fireless time ahead. That was when I actually remembered how important it is to get the wood, how important the fire is, and why has the man always feared the dark. 

Then we watched the sunset until the sky mellowed from blood and fire into mild watercolour.

I stood on the brink of water, and above my head a huge dark blanket was slowly being pulled over the blue and peach stripes. It was such a relish to come back from the faintly glowing horizon into the utter darkness of the unageing night and head for the only bright spark visible - our own campfire.

Soon, the stars appeared.

The full moon was blazing from behind the ink-black pine boughs, and long bight stripes of silvery light lay on the sand and the sedge.

In the morning, we walked for a couple of km to a small town for a cup of hot coffee and, of course, made a stop to admire the waterfalls.

 We really must do it more often.

Lecte ;)