Gothic horror – almost – on Björkör
With the boat sitting serenely at the dock I spent a couple of hours catnapping before cleaning and tidying the boat and grabbing some breakfast (my usual staple of yogurt and granola with honey). James had gone exploring and returned to tell me about a little ‘leprechaun’ he had met named Kaj (pronounced “Kai”). Turned out Kaj was the custodian of the island and lived here alone, five days a week from February to November. Kaj invited us to tour the small museum/house he maintained which I had spied earlier, just five minutes from the harbor. Turns out it is a perfectly preserved Åland island house from the late 19th century.
Let me immediately say that this turned out to be a fascinating and macabre experience. Kaj was a small man in his mid-50s clad in thick waterproof work pants and a tank top. He sported the requisite fisherman’s cap and a hearing aid and his personal hygiene left much to be desired. But given the few visitors to his island perhaps he had no need of smelling good. Kaj spoke broken English in a sing-song Scandinavian accent which was almost a parody of itself. His own cabin consisted of a cozy kitchen with wood fire stove, a kitchen table with a logbook on which he recorded every boat which visited the island and pair of amazing sealskin clogs he used in wintertime. He took us over to the perfectly preserved island house just a few steps away and that is where the horror movie vibes began to come thick and fast. The place was faded and spotlessly clean, but looked as though it had just been vacated by a Victorian era Finnish family. The ground floor was dominated by a large living room/kitchen with a woodfire stove complete with pots, pans, grinders and supplies from the era. In the corner were two small bunk beds, clearly for children, while from the ceiling hung a dozen polished antique rifles, ostensibly for shooting seals. But Kaj got a gleam in his eye as he explained that the former patriarch of the house, whose stern portrait hunger over the fireplace, was an angry and irrational man who had been known to hunt ‘strangers and friends’, and who would often take his spyglass (also displayed on a sidetable) to the top of the nearby lookout to see any approaching boats. Unwary visitors were often shot at. This news caused the beginning of some anxiety in me. But there was much more to come.
In the parlour next to the main living space was a curiosity room containing some stuffed ducks, preserved eggs and a spinning wheel. In another corner was an antique phonograph and a stack of 78s. Kaj got an odd look in his eye as he began to turn the turntable by hand – and a strange disembodied sound of a 1930s Swedish singer, intoning mournfully at half speed, began to issue from the speaker. I looked at James nervously….this was straight out of modern horror movie. Kaj invited us upstairs where more macabre artifacts awaited. One room had a collection of old jackets and dresses, plus shoes and more sealskin boots from the 19th century. He pointed out a faded dress and encouraged me, (only half jokingly?), to put it on. My eyes flashed to the shoes and wondered if a visitor in years to come might find the LLBean hiking boots I was currently wearing among them, the only remaining artifact of an American sailor who was long forgotten after disappearing on a sailing trip in 2018. Next door to this was a claustrophic room for a small child, containing just an old crib and some strangely stained wallpaper. Was the stain blood? This was getting creepier by the second.
Finally Kaj, with more than hint of mischief in his eyes, encouraged us to take a peek at ‘the secret room’, which opened via a hidden door onto a tiny, narrow passage full of dusty and rusty farm implements. Before I crossed the threshold I made sure there was a window in the room, just so we could escape in the event of the hidden door being slammed behind us. I eyeballed James. He was clearly thinking the same thing. We left hurriedly but we sure to be polite. As I hurried down the mowed grass path back to my boat I already had half a horror movie written in my head. This was not an experience I will soon forget. But I will bring back future guests, so they can experience this Finnish gothic moment and give me their take. For me, the warmth of the sun and my boat’s cozy cabin have rarely been as welcome.
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