We took the ferry from Helsinki to Tallin (I wrote elsewhere on the trip to to the Russian border).
I won't describe the beauty of the mediaeval part of Tallin - that is better covered by others. What is evident, as you ride through the suburbs from the ferry port, is that the dead hand of the Soviet Union left a hefty imprint in this beautiful country. The dreariness - the sheer brutality of the architecture, in scale and appearance - is as bad, or worse, than anything the planners inflicted on our cities in the UK in the 1960s and 70s, though they tried their best. The roads are better than ours though. Much better. And the beer is cheaper.
History runs deep here. Reminders of the Soviet era are everywhere, from the KGB museums in Tallin (there are two), to the uncompromising receptionist in the hotel who had mastered the ability to say 'no' even before the question was asked. She was attractive, if you like the KGB interrogating officer look. Military remnants are easy to find, reminders of a time past but not so long ago.
An abandoned Sovier troop carrier
Outside Tallin, villages reflect the peasant economy that once prevailed, now a shadow, but still there. Quiet, slow and agricultural. An extraordinary sight: through the forest trees we spy a cemetery, the graves marked not with stones but the tailfins of Soviet fighter planes (Sukhoi SU24s), shot down or crashed. It is eerie in the dappled sunshine, 50 or so resting places for souls whose graves are still tended, still garlanded in places by flowers placed by a long grieving relative. War is war, and loss is loss, wherever you are from.
We will return to the Baltic states, I think, but for now we headed for the overnight ferry to Stockholm. If you are going this way, the ferry from Paldiski - half an hour from Tallin - is more of a cargo ferry, but for a little extra money - I mean a little extra - you can have an amazing, large cabin.
A word about ferries in general. Bikers stand out on ferries. We are apart from other passengers, marked by the gear we wear: perfect for the bike, less so for looking casual on the ship. There is always anxiety: what's the weather forecast when we get there? Did I strap the bike down properly? Will I be able to get the straps off? Will the exit ramp be wet and slippy? Is my passport handy so that I don't hold everybody up at the border post? Why does that guy look cooler in his kit than I do in mine?
This is our lot, and I like it.
I won't describe the beauty of the mediaeval part of Tallin - that is better covered by others. What is evident, as you ride through the suburbs from the ferry port, is that the dead hand of the Soviet Union left a hefty imprint in this beautiful country. The dreariness - the sheer brutality of the architecture, in scale and appearance - is as bad, or worse, than anything the planners inflicted on our cities in the UK in the 1960s and 70s, though they tried their best. The roads are better than ours though. Much better. And the beer is cheaper.
History runs deep here. Reminders of the Soviet era are everywhere, from the KGB museums in Tallin (there are two), to the uncompromising receptionist in the hotel who had mastered the ability to say 'no' even before the question was asked. She was attractive, if you like the KGB interrogating officer look. Military remnants are easy to find, reminders of a time past but not so long ago.
An abandoned Sovier troop carrier
Outside Tallin, villages reflect the peasant economy that once prevailed, now a shadow, but still there. Quiet, slow and agricultural. An extraordinary sight: through the forest trees we spy a cemetery, the graves marked not with stones but the tailfins of Soviet fighter planes (Sukhoi SU24s), shot down or crashed. It is eerie in the dappled sunshine, 50 or so resting places for souls whose graves are still tended, still garlanded in places by flowers placed by a long grieving relative. War is war, and loss is loss, wherever you are from.
We will return to the Baltic states, I think, but for now we headed for the overnight ferry to Stockholm. If you are going this way, the ferry from Paldiski - half an hour from Tallin - is more of a cargo ferry, but for a little extra money - I mean a little extra - you can have an amazing, large cabin.
A word about ferries in general. Bikers stand out on ferries. We are apart from other passengers, marked by the gear we wear: perfect for the bike, less so for looking casual on the ship. There is always anxiety: what's the weather forecast when we get there? Did I strap the bike down properly? Will I be able to get the straps off? Will the exit ramp be wet and slippy? Is my passport handy so that I don't hold everybody up at the border post? Why does that guy look cooler in his kit than I do in mine?
This is our lot, and I like it.
Last edited:
