At first, the heathery ground simply felt springy underfoot. But as we moved deeper into the Kõnnu Suursoo bog, it grew wetter and softer until my guide, Marilin Pehka, stopped and handed me a pair of curiously oversized plastic frames.
"We must put on the bog shoes now," she said. "They spread your weight so you won't sink."
I strapped them on and stepped forward, feeling the earth shift beneath my feet. Black pools rippled between hummocks of russet moss as I moved around their perimeters – no longer on solid ground, but on spongy layers of peat. Spindly pines stood in silhouette against a deepening sky.
"Stop. Listen. Breathe," Pehka said, pausing on a grassy tussock. I expected a bird call or the rustle of wind. There was only silence and a rich earthy smell perfumed with rosemary. She bent to pluck a sprig of greenery. "Labrador tea," she said, pointing to clusters of white flowers renowned for their hallucinogenic properties, growing alongside blueberries and cloudberries. "Estonians have always foraged in the bogs. They are a place of rich pickings."
To understand Estonia, you must understand its bogs. For centuries, bogs have been seen as bleak and forbidding, yet in Estonia they are central to national identity. They shape the landscape, sustain biodiversity and are now a focus of both conservation and tourism.
Kõnnu Suursoo is one of Estonia's largest, covering around 25 sq km. I was walking here in summer, when dragonflies skimmed the dark, mirror-like pools and cotton grass swayed above clumps of peat moss. "In autumn the moss turns crimson," said Pehka. "In winter the land sleeps under snow and ice, and in spring the bog breathes again with green shoots as cranes, storks and swallows begin to nest."
As we walked deeper, Pehka pointed out elk tracks and told me that wolves and bears also roam these reed-lined meadows, "though they tend to avoid humans". I was grateful for the reassurance. Walking marshy ground was already pushing me out of my comfort zone. But 2km on, through open bog, we reached a boardwalk leading to a wooden watchtower: the perfect place to watch the setting Sun turn the area into a quilt of golden mosses separated by black water threads and pale green islands. "This," Pehka said quietly, "is the real Estonia."
Many English-language phrases associated with bogs have negative connotations: bog-standard; bogged down with work; mired in controversy. So Estonians are used to visitors who think they are places to be avoided.
"I think the most positive interpretation of bogland is in Shrek," joked Marika Kose, who researches recreation management at the Estonian University of Life Sciences. "But here in Estonia, bogs are part of the national identity and a source of livelihood. For generations people have foraged for berries, hunted and caught fish in bogs."
Over time bogs also became a place of refuge. "People have fled into the mires to escape wars, cruel landlords and outbreaks of plague," Kose added.
The value of peat came to the forefront in the late 19th Century, when it began to be used industrially as fuel and bedding for livestock. As a result, many European countries drained their bogs for farming and industry, losing vast areas of natural peatland. But in Estonia, bogs remain a defining feature, covering more than a fifth of the countryside – around 340,000 hectares – and playing a vital role in both local ecology and global climate.
"Bogs are ecosystems where organic matter produced by plants does not decompose completely but is deposited as peat, which binds carbon and helps to mitigate climate change," explained Raimo Pajula from the Ecology Department at Tallinn University. "If drained, the peat begins to decompose and the carbon is released back into the atmosphere."
Still, a third of Estonia's bogs have been destroyed by extraction or drainage, and most of the rest have been affected at their edges. Even today, peat mining remains a threat. Tourism now plays an important part in their preservation, reframing bogs as places to be valued and protected.
"For centuries, Estonian culture saw bogs as places of mystery – homes to spirit beings like will-o'-the-wisps who misled travellers," said Piret Pungas-Kohv from the University of Tartu, who has studied the role of storytelling in mire restoration. "Over the past 100 years, attitudes have shifted 180 degrees. In the 1970s people began to recognise their ecological value. By the 1990s, boardwalks were built to make them accessible, and photographers helped show their beauty. Today, we see bogs much more in culture – from photos at Tallinn Airport to images on sausage packaging – but they are also fragile."
"Bog-shoeing is well developed as a tourism service," Kose told me. "It's based on techniques our ancestors used for centuries, but it needs to be managed as large groups or repeated visits can cause serious damage."
And while bogs feel remote when you're in one, they can be surprisingly easy to reach. From Tallinn, many are a simple day trip. Aegviidu, known as Estonia's hiking capital, is just more than an hour by train and is the gateway to Kõnnu Suursoo. I stayed in nearby in Kuuse Elamusmajad's eco-cabins, each with their own sauna, panoramic windows and trails straight into the forest.
In Viru bog, 70km east of the capital in Lahemaa National Park, I meandered along a boardwalk through classic raised bog scenery: dark pools, open moss fields and scattered pine trees. At the end, I found a small, dark lake, now a popular wild swimming spot. I stepped in cautiously, surprised by the warmth of the water, and soon I was swimming in liquid the colour of strong tea, reeds parting to reveal the occasional duck.
"Bog lakes are high in natural humic substances," Pehka explained. "They protect the water from bacteria and are good for the skin – softening it, reducing inflammation and treating conditions such as psoriasis. They are also said to have rejuvenating properties."
I didn't appear visibly more youthful when I emerged, but I was changed in other ways. Before I came to Estonia, I thought of bogs as inhospitable places best avoided. But after time spent walking, swimming and simply gazing out across these ethereal marshy landscapes, I realised they are places for which the word "mindboggling" is uniquely apt.
Source : BBC News
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