Valga and Valka, a divided town spanning the Estonian~Latvian border:  after a hot, sticky and airless night, the sun rose early above the trees, bringing us into full sun again; it was going to be another insufferably hot day. In this summer's freak heat-wave conditions, temperatures in Northern Europe and particularly Scandinavia were 3~5°C above normal. This morning, with joy in our hearts about leaving this disgusting campsite and its uncouth owner, we set off on the 16kms of tarmaced lane through lovely spruce forests to emerge in the outskirts of Valga (click here for detailed map of route).

Valga had since the 13th century been a small provincial town, multinational in nature with a mixed population of Estonians, Latvians, Germans and Russians. The coming of the railway linking Rīga and Pskov via Valga in the late 19th century had brought rapid expansion to what now became a railway hub. Industrialisation attracted large numbers of Russian-speaking workers to Valga where a huge railway workshop depot developed as the town's then largest employer. At this time relations between the ethnic groups remained cordial. In 1917 with the overthrow of Tsarist Russian Empire, which had previously governed Northern Latvia and Southern Estonia as a unified entity, there seemed to be an obvious line dividing most of the region between towns of majority-Estonian and majority-Latvian population, to indicate a natural line for a new border between the two countries when they achieved independence from Bolshevik Russia in 1919. Valga however with its mixed Estonian~Latvian population, was of too great strategic importance as an industrial and railway junction town for either the Estonians or Latvians readily to give it up to the other. As a result, the border-town of Valga was the only place where Estonia and Latvia came into serious contention over the exact line of the border. It was only the mediating intervention of a British Foreign Office diplomat, Sir Stephen Tallents on behalf of the League of Nations, who settled the dispute; war was prevented by imposing the current border line which now divides the towns of Valga on the Estonian side and Valka on the Latvian side. But the seemingly arbitrary border line, which followed the insignificant Pedele stream through the centre, divided the town into disproportionate parts: the Estonians gained the railway station (the reason for the town's importance), most of its industry and a greater share of the centre, while the new Latvian town of Valka was reduced to an insignificant size causing great resentment. During the Soviet period the border became an irrelevance, and the Soviet military presence from 1944~90 made Russian the prominent language in Valga~Valka. When the two countries however re-achieved independence in 1991 after 50 years of Soviet occupation, the border line was re-instated and all links between the two towns were severed. Relations remained strained with strict border controls operated between the two parts of what had historically been one town. Even hospital patients could not be brought across since neither country recognised the other's health insurance. It was only in 2005 that EU membership injected some common sense and compelled greater cooperation between the two town authorities as the price of financial subsidies for joint tourism initiatives under the slogan One city, two states (Üks linn, kaks riiki in Estonian). The website The Strange Story of Walk – United by the Soviets, divided by freedom makes interesting reading, with a detailed account of the history and impact of the divided towns of Valga and Valka. Only with the Schengen agreement in 2007 were the border controls finally removed and an open border achieved. The border line, now entirely open with no remaining border controls or fences, runs through the centres of the two neighbouring parts of what was once one town, with local people passing to and fro freely to work and to shop via three road crossings, two for local traffic between the town centres, and one for heavy traffic in the suburbs. Cooperation however between the town authorities of Valga and Valka on the two sides of the now open border remains something of a reluctant tokenism. The two towns now have a combined population of 19,000 (14,000 on the Estonian side and 5,000 Latvian), with 4 languages spoken: Estonian, Latvian, Russian (Russian speakers still form 33% of the population on both sides of the border), and English providing the lingua franca for the young born since re-independence.

Our first impressions, as we drove down Valga's main street was the woebegone and neglected state of its once attractive wooden buildings (see above right and left) and even more sorry state of its modern apartment blocks. Between these, larger areas of open parkland green spaces relieved the town's rather gloomy appearance. We reached the central area of Kesk and parked by the much neglected St John's Church to walk across to the maroon-painted wooden Old Town Hall which houses the TIC (see above left). We had earlier phoned to enquire about camping potential around Valga and had learned of the Aare Majutus (Guest House) which offered camping in their gardens. The helpful girl at the TIC phoned to reserve us a place, and having secured a town plan of Valga~Valka (duly headed by the One city, two states slogan) and details of the border line dividing the town centres, we drove out to Aare Majutus in the northern residential suburbs to inspect the place. Before leaving the centre, we walked around to examine what had once been attractive wooden houses. Reaching Aare, the owner was expecting us and showed us around; the garden camping area was delightful and we reserved a place among the blackcurrant bushes. There was a fully equipped kitchen/wash-up and common room with WC and shower in the guest house, fully fledged wi-fi, and all for the price of €15/night. What a stunning contrast with the sordid, fly-ridden dereliction of last night! We should return after after visiting the town.

First stop was Valga's railway station. The original brick-built station had been destroyed in WW2, and the modern architectural grandiose anachronism was built by German POWs in 1949 during the early years of Soviet occupation (see above right). It had all the lavish flamboyance of Soviet buildings of that era, with a huge tower, grandiose entrance hall with chandelier and balconies (see above left). The long footbridge spanning sidings filled with freight wagons and oil-tankers, which linked to apartment blocks on the far side of the tracks, gave an overview of the station buildings (see left) (Photo 24 - Valga railway station). A modern diesel railcar stood at the platform waiting to depart for Tartu. Before Schengen in  2007, the presence of the border with Latvia had meant a change of trains and passport control here if travelling from Tallinn to Rīga; Valga served as terminus for both state railways. Today's timetable showed no departures southwards now into Latvia, only local services to Tartu and Tallinn via Tapa, and an evening train to Narva but no indication of this continuing to St Petersburg. Just along from the station, a surviving Soviet Su Class 2-6-2 steam locomotive was preserved on an isolated section of siding, as a monument to celebrate the 110th anniversary in 1998 of the opening of the Rīga~Valga~Pskov railway. Built in the Russian industrial shipyard town of Sormowo in 1949, the engine looked a woebegone and primitive machine compared with the far more sophisticated British and Western European steam locomotives of that post-war period (see above right) (Photo 25- Soviet Su Class locomotive).

Further towards the centre, we parked at the Maxima supermarket, and just opposite we found the now locked and neglected Issidor Russian Orthodox Church (see left), dating from 1880 with the influx of Russian industrial workers to Valga. The church had suffered during the Soviet years, and now looked to be permanently closed with the building of a new Orthodox church in Valka. Before shopping for provisions at the Rimi supermarket on the Estonian side of the border, we decided to venture across into Valka and crossed the open border. We paused in Valka main street at the separate Latvian TIC for a street plan of Valka, and from this found a Mego supermarket in the outskirts of the Latvian town to buy Latvian beers (so much preferable to Estonian beer!). The absence of formal border controls enabled traffic to pass to and fro at will, and we returned to Estonia to complete our shopping at the Rimi. It was evident from the number of Estonian cars parked at Latvian Mego and Latvian cars parked at Estonian Rimi, that locals now regularly cross the border to shop in the other country's supermarket. Leaving George parked in Estonia at the Rimi car park, we walked back over the border into Latvia for photos standing by the border-post markers (see above right), with one foot in either country (see left). The respective Estonian and Latvian border-marker posts still stood either side of the little Pedele stream which Tallents had in 1920 marked on his map as the line of the imposed border between the two countries (Photo 26- Border markers); since 2007 the border fence had now been removed. And realising that diesel was considerably cheaper in Latvia, we drove back across the border to top up George's tank, paying €1.20/litre in Latvia compared with €1.33 in Estonia!

Returning to Estonia via the other local border crossing, we paused to photograph what remained of the once rigorously enforced border control-point, where before 2007 residents of Valka and Valga had to pass through passport control to visit relatives in neighbouring streets either side of the border, with different currencies, different languages, and different cultures and legal systems in the two parts of the one town with two names, Valga and Valka. Traffic now passed freely to and fro between the two town centres, but the Latvian and Estonian flags flying side by side over the now redundant border-post seemed something of token symbolism (Photo 27- Redundant Latvian~Estonian border-post) (see above right). The reality of mutual cooperation between the two town authorities, and the true meaning of One city, two states remained uncertain. Both towns on each side of the border showed signs of neglect in today's economically difficult times, with the sad and rundown state of their buildings, though efforts were being made to tidy up the public spaces and open parkland. Wage levels in Valga are some of the lowest in Estonia and the level of unemployment in this once industrial town is 8.3%, one of the highest in Estonia compared with the national average of 4.6%. Despite this, economic conditions in Valga are more favourable than in Valka, and many Latvians cross the border daily to work in Valga where employment prospects are greater than in its smaller, even more depressed Latvian neighbour. What a curious day this had been for us, crossing at will back and forth between the two contrasting but unequal parts of Valga~Valka's One city, two states.

Aare Majutus (Guest House) Camping:  we re-crossed into Estonia and returned in the now hot sunshine to Aare Majutus (Guest House) Camping to settle into our garden pitch (see right), pulling out the awning as additional shade from the full sun, and taking full advantage of Aare's first rate facilities to chill our beers in the kitchen's fridge-freezer, another first! After a sultry hot night, early cloud broke to give another sunny day, enabling us to sit out for breakfast in Aare Majutus' lovely gardens (see left) (Photo 28 - Aare Majutus Camping). In her limited English, the kindly owner showed us one of the guest-rooms for us to use the shower; the B-and-B rooms were of a high standard and the shower was the most homely and civilised of the whole trip. Without doubt Aare Majutus-Camping was one of the trip's finest campsites: lovely, hospitable owners, beautiful garden setting, excellent facilities, and such good value at just €15/night. If you are in the Valga area, make a point of staying there.

Valga~Valka's wartime and Cold War sites:  before leaving Valga~Valka this morning, we wanted to visit some of the two towns' historical sites associated with WW2 and the Cold War. Re-crossing the border into Valka, close to the town centre and some sadly neglected apartment blocks, we found a row of three elongated, artificial mounds, with a concrete entrance way, locked metal doors, and ventilation shafts protruding from their tops. These were the remains of an underground complex of concrete military bunkers constructed by the Soviets in Valka during the 1950s Cold War (see left). These housed a missile command and control centre which coordinated all the Soviet missile sites scattered across the Baltic States, such as the one we had seen at Plokštinė in Lithuania, from which missiles would have been launched against the West at a time of international crisis. If the Cuban Crisis in October 1962 had escalated, the Soviet military response would have been coordinated from here. Although now inaccessible and derelict, they remain here, a chilling blot an Valka's urban landscape close to the town centre, a permanent ugly feature of daily lives for Latvian residents as they pass by on their way from apartment blocks to the shops (see right).

From here we made our way out to Valka's northern ring road where, alongside a Latvian civil cemetery, a small German war cemetery with token numbers of stark Teutonic crosses marked the mass burial ground for the 100s of German troops killed in the battles to re-take Valga from July~September 1944 (see below right). It took the Red Army 3 months to dislodge the Germans dug in here. Similar numbers of Russian soldiers were killed in the fighting, and these were buried in mass graves on the far side of the town where we now drove. Unlike other Soviet war cemeteries, this one was remarkably modest in style, with a 1980s monument (see left) and names of the dead inscribed in Cyrillic around the low outer walls (see below right).

We finally re-crossed the border-post into Estonia and drove back up Valga's main street past the traffic lights; it says something about a place when its one set of traffic lights gets a specific mention in the town's tourist literature list of sights worth seeing! On the northern outskirts of Valga just before crossing the modern railway line to Tartu, the remains are still just about visible of Valga's once huge railway workshops and engineering depot which must have been the town's biggest employer. The rows of sidings filled with oil tanker wagons which we had seen at the railway station extended into the former area of workshops. All that remained now however of the depot looked to be a few large Nissen huts and derelict concrete buildings. Just off the road north of the workshops area was the site of a WW2 POW camp where the Germans held Russian POWs. An estimated 29,000 Russian POWs died here of starvation, cold and disease, and the map showed a military cemetery where these were buried. In late 1944 after the costly re-capture of Valga, the Red Army took over the prison camp where in turn many German POWs died. Unfortunately there was no time today to visit the site.

Lake Ähijärv in Karula National Park:  we returned through the spruce forests to Laatre and turned eastwards on tarmaced Route 129 for 17kms to the small town of Antsla (click here for detailed map of route). From here a winding lane led south to Haabsaare, and finally 4kms of gravel road brought us to Ähijärve and the Karula National Park Centre. The lady here spoke good English and supplied information and map-leaflets about the 4kms Ähijärve walking route. More importantly, she assured us we could camp by the Visitor Centre where there was a water supply and 2 earth privvies; she even agreed to our taking power from the barn which housed a rural museum exhibition. We brought George round, plugged him into the power supply for his fridge full of food in today's torrid heat, and set off down to Lake Ähijärv to begin the walking trail.

The way-marked path curved around the lake past a farm with traditional wooden buildings including a smoke sauna. Across lake-side meadows, it entered the forest on Lake Ähijärv's northern side, passing boat moorings (Photo 29 - Lake Ähijärv) (see above left) and a former wooden mill destroyed by fire in 2012. Around the far side, the path climbed steeply up into the forest and curved around to reach a forest road by a brook which drained from a hay meadow, described on an information panel as a drained former lake-bed separated from Ähijärv by the forested esker we had just crossed. Indian Balsam (Impatiens glandulifera) with its untidy pink flowers flourished in the moist ground alongside the brook (see left). The entire topography of Karula National Park was made up of moraine hillocks and eskers, formed as the ice sheets withdrew scouring the landscape at the end of the last Ice Age. A loose sandy track climbed up through pine forested heath land before the way-marked route turned off to climb steeply over the esker again. This was by far the most attractive part of the route, following a former cart track which had once connected farms; the forest floor was covered with Bilberry, Lingonberry and Cow-wheat. The path now joined another forest road by a derelict wooden building which had once been the Ähijärve village shop. The path then led down to the lake-shore start-point and back to the National Park Visitor Centre.

Camp at Karula National Park Visitor:  we set up George under the shade of a magnificent oak tree by the barn (Photo 30 - Camp in shade of oak tree) (see above right). The National Park lady called by to say she would have to lock the barn, trapping our cable, but would open up again in the morning. As the year moved on, dusk was now falling earlier so that soon after 10-00pm it was beginning to get dark. The following morning, a bright sun rose early beyond the deep shade of our oak tree. We breakfasted and washed up at the picnic table under the oak tree, and the Visitor Centre lady called by again to ask if we had enjoyed a peaceful night, and to say the barn was now unlocked enabling us to retrieve our cable. This had been kindness itself; we could not have asked for more.

Peräjärve Forest Trail in Karula National Park:  in spite of having a busy day ahead in Võru, we decided to add in the 4kms Peräjärve Forest Trail in the southern part of Karula National Park as recommended by the Visitor Centre. This meant taking the southern 15kms section of gravel road down to join the main Route 67 to Võru. 5kms along, we pulled into the parking area by the tiny settlement of wooden houses that made up the village of Peräjärve. Leaving George in the shade of trees, we set off for the circular walk around the undulating forest landscape of southern Karula National Park. We had no detailed map and had to rely for navigation on an outline map photographed from an information panel with its numbered info-panels references as principal means of route finding. The path initially dropped down through dense spruce forest to the small lake of Peräjärv (see above right), with the ongoing path contouring around a steep-sided depression leading along the forested Hundiauk valley (Photo 31 - Peräjärve Forest Trail) (see above left). The topography was classically that of post-glacial sedimentation: as the ice sheets withdrew and fragmented, sand and gravel deposits were eroded into eskers and cupola hillocks with valleys between them, to form the undulating now forested landscape over which the route circled. It also illustrated the different forms of forestation: pristine, natural dry heath spruce forest, and cultivated, more regular planted pine forest. At the same time, this complexity of surface structure with differing humidity, light, and land fertility gave varied mosaic of forest types: dry and sandy on the higher slopes, wet and boggy in the valley depressions. The National Park aims to protect the natural forests from over-exploitation.

The path looped around to another forest track (see right), before branching off over hilly eskers, dipping down again past peaty mired deep depressions and steeply up over a complex series of eskers and cupola-hillocks through pristine forest preserved from human intervention by the complex land relief which made it too difficult to work. At one point Sheila recognised a parasitic plant growing in the forest floor from its straw-coloured stems and vestigial triangular scale leaves. Despite the parasitic plant's now dead flowers, with her impressively encyclopaedic botanical knowledge, Sheila even identified it as Common Broomrape (Photo 32- Common Broomrape) (Orobanche minor). Completely lacking chlorophyll, Broomrape cannot photosynthesise its own nutrients and is totally dependent on other plants; its seeds remain dormant in the soil, often for many years, until stimulated to germinate by compounds produced by living plant roots. Broomrape seedlings put out a root-like growth, which attaches to the roots of nearby hosts; once attached, the broomrape robs its host of water and nutrients. The final section of the path showed further signs of human intervention with downward arrow-shaped cuts in the pine bark, once used for collecting pine-resin (see left), a valuable commodity for caulking wooden boats. The return route led along a dry and sandy forest road, passing an open area of forest where sunlight encouraged the flourishing growth of Lingonberries (see right) and Bilberries, both laden with ripening fruits. Looping back towards the parking area at Peräjärve village, we passed the only other walkers seen today, a group of Finns from Helsinki who had seen George's GB registration and expressed amazement that we had driven all the way from UK!

A disappointing visit to Võru:  this had been a great walk through the Peräjärve forests, but we now had 10kms of gravel road to drive to reach the main Route 67, raising clouds of fine, penetrating dust which filled all of George's crevices and vents (click here for detailed map of route). Joining Route 67 near Kallaste opposite the road leading down to the Latvian border at Ape, this was the southernmost point of Estonia we should reach. On a very hot afternoon with temperatures in the low 30°s, we now turned NE-wards for a wearying 30kms drive up to Võru passing through featureless agricultural countryside. Reaching the outskirts of Võru, we turned off into the town.

Võru is a comparatively modern provincial town, founded and planned by Russian Empress Catherine the Great in 1780s in this hilly SE corner of Estonia, bordering onto Russia and Latvia. Võru's principal claim to fame is its connection with F R Kreutzwald (1802~82) who is considered the father of Estonian national literature, and who practised as a doctor in Võru for 40 years after graduating in medicine at Dorpat (Tartu) University in 1833 (see left). As one of the leaders of the National Awakening, Kreutzwald promoted the nationalistic revival of the Estonian language, taking his inspiration from the example of Elias Lönnrot, the contemporary fellow country doctor and nationalistic author of the Finnish national epic in 1830 of Kalevala (Click here to learn about the Kalevala). Kreutzwald is best remembered as the author of the 20,000 verse epic poem, Kalevipoeg, about the adventures of the mythical hero giant from Estonian oral tradition folklore legends (see right). It was originally published in German because Tsarist censorship delayed an Estonian edition. The Kreutzwald Memorial Museum in the Võru house where he practised as town doctor and wrote his epic poem commemorates his life and work.

There is little else of note in Võru but we had enjoyed a memorable visit there in 2011 thanks to the town's noteworthy TIC; we had looked forward to this year's re-visit. As we approached however, the entire town centre's grid plan of streets was totally blocked off to both traffic and pedestrians by mammoth road works. We managed to find shady street parking, but being prevented from approaching the central Catherine Church (named not after the Saint but the town's founder Catherine the Great), we walked down Kateriina Street to the Kreutzwald Memorial, where the statue of Võru's notable citizen sits gazing out over the town's lakeside beach (see below right) (Photo 33 - Kreutzwald memorial at Võru). The deep shade of the lakeside park's trees brought welcome relief from today's exhaustingly torrid heat, and while youngsters played volley ball on the beach (see left), we sat under the trees for an ice-cream. Back up Koidula Street towards the centre, a portrait of Estonia's famous 19th century authoress Lydia Koidula decorated one of the wooden houses. The only noteworthy monuments in the central square by the Catherine Church, one to Estonian freedom fighters during the War of Independence, the other to the 17 Võru city councillors killed with the 1994 sinking of the Baltic ferry Estonia, were totally inaccessible due to the all-pervasive road works. Even worse, we had to walk around apartments for several residential blocks to get back to George parked on the far side of the square. For a town that has little or nothing to attract visitors in the first place, this was an own goal of monumental proportions closing off the entire town centre in the height of summer!

Kubija Hotel-Camping at Võru:  we drove round to the Maksimarket to stock up with provisions; at least the supermarket's efficient air-conditioning brought some relief from the exhausting heat. 4kms to the south of the town, we reached tonight's campsite attached to the Kubija Hotel. In 2011, we had been impressed that this hotel showed the same level of courteous welcome to those staying at its attached campsite as to its hotel guests. So often with campsites attached to hotels, campsite guests are treated as second class citizens; here however we had received exceptional welcome from the English-speaking hotel receptionists who insisted that we were as much guests as those at the hotel, deserving the same hospitality. So refreshing, and again we were received with commendable courtesy from the ultra-helpful reception staff. The pleasant lawned camping area in the grounds of Kubija Hotel were screened off by pine trees, and we settled under these which at least gave some morning shade (see above left). We sat in the shade of George with the sun's heat still unbearably enervating, as week-enders' caravans piled in with all the usual hullabaloo; it was far busier than expected. The sun finally dipped, but as darkness fell later, the surrounding pines restricted the outlook, obscuring the sky and preventing any views of tonight's blood moon and total lunar eclipse.

Suur Munamägi, highest point in Baltics at 318m:  another steaming hot morning, and plans for today were to explore the hilly countryside of Haanja Nature Park. We headed south on rural lanes (click here for detailed map of route) for some 12kms to reach Haanja, and just beyond the village we reached the parking area for Suur Munamägi, an otherwise insignificant wooded hill but noteworthy as the highest point in the Baltics at 318m. An Art Deco observation tower built in 1939 adds a further 30m to its height (see right) to give panoramic views above the tree-tops over the surrounding countryside towards the Russian and Latvian borders (see left) (Photo 34 - Suur Munamägi). From the approach path, the tower's lift takes visitors (free of charge for us pensioners) up to the observation platform, for the open views in all directions over the forested hilly landscape. To the north the neighbouring hill of Vällämägi stood out above the otherwise featureless terrain.

Back down to ground level, our next stop was the parking area 2kms north for the walk over and around Vällämägi hill, Estonia's second highest point just 14m short of Suur Munamägi at 304m. By good chance, we had picked up a map-leaflet detailing the route. The approach path led up the wooded lower slopes and across the hill's eastern flanks to reach an enclosed area of peat bog, with peat 17m deep. Again this topography of glacially deposited hills and intervening marshy valleys dates from the immediate post Ice Age retreat of the ice-sheets. Vällämägi's height may not be great, but the slope of its domed summit on the NE side has a gradient of 40°. The ongoing path beyond the marshy depression up to the forested summit dome tackled this gradient, and with the aid of a securely fixed guide-rope, we hauled ourselves hand-over-hand up the slope through the trees. The gradient eased as we broached the summit dome onto its flat top, but the dense tree cover denied any views; our photos could have been taken in any woodland setting! (see right). The ongoing path continued along the crest of the saddle-shaped hilltop, branching into several directions on the more gentle northern slopes with the main path descending the still densely wooded northern flank. The return path contoured around the hill's lower western slopes through once managed spruce forest, then natural varied woodland to return down to the parking area. Nothing spectacular, but this had been an enjoyable couple of hours walk over the forested hill of Vällämägi.

A walk around Rõuge village:  we now set course for Rõuge village 10kms to the west on a lane winding through partly wooded agricultural countryside. We parked by the TIC above the village where an observation tower stood on the brink of the steep valley-side overlooking Suurjärv lake. More of a tourist souvenir shop, the TIC could not even supply a local map, and we set off for an hour's walk down into the valley and around the village to the far side of the lake to reach a fish farm advertising forelle (trout). The fish were caught from ponds, killed and cooked for customers; unable to resist fresh trout, we enquired and the owner netted a 2kgm fish, and filleted it for us to take away (see left) - but the price! We should prefer not to recall what we paid for the 2 enormous fillets, but there was more than enough fish for 2 suppers! With our heavy bag of fresh fish, we followed the path alongside the iron-rich stream under the steep valley-side and back up the slope to the parking area.

A day in camp at Kubija Hotel-Camping:  back to camp, we re-pitched at the Kubija Hotel campsite and grilled forelle fillets for supper. Given its price, it was doubly delicious! We stayed a further day here (see right) to make use of the excellent facilities including laundry, luxurious showers and free use of the sauna. The hot sun topped the pines and this afternoon George's internal temperature reached 35°C despite having all the blinds drawn, doors and windows open and fans on; this summer's heat wave made it airlessly hot!

Setomaa, the land of the Seto people:  from Võru we turned off Route 65 onto the tarmaced minor Route 130 for 25kms eastwards to reach the village of Obinitsa in Setomaa, the land of the Seto people in the far SE corner of Estonia (click here for detailed map of route). The Seto were a branch of the original Finno-Ugric Estonian nomadic tribes who settled in the Baltic lands around 5,000 years ago. In medieval times the Setos fell under the jurisdiction of the Russian principality of Pskov, unlike the rest of Estonia which was subjugated by Germanic Barons. As a result, the Setos were eventually Christianised as Orthodox and not Lutheran. But despite their isolation, the Setos were never fully assimilated into Russian culture, retaining their own distinctive culture and Uralic language, a dialect closer in form to Old Estonian than the modern Estonian tongue. But it is the 20th century history of the Setos, culturally and politically, which is the most interesting and tragic. All of the 12 Seto nulks (tribal units) were contained within independent Estonia between 1920~40 which then included the main Seto market town and religious centre of Petsery with its spectacular Orthodox Monastery. But in 1944 the Soviets arbitrarily redrew the border so that 4 of the Seto tribal units now lived in Russian territory, with their former town of Petsery (Pechory as it is now known) 3kms across the border, cut off inside Russia. Villages of the so-called Seto Belt now lie along the Estonian side of the Russian border (Click here for map of Seto Villages Belt). Today the distinctive Seto language and culture are in slow decline: there are around 12,000 Seto speakers in Estonia with only 3,000 of these living in Setomaa, and just 300 still isolated in Russia; this is half the size of the early 20th century Seto population. Despite efforts to promote the language and traditions through organised cultural gatherings, the younger generation is rapidly being assimilated into the main body of Estonian society. The impenetrable Russian border has split their community since 1991, further hastening the Seto decline. The most distinctive feature of Seto culture is the women's traditional polyphonic choral folk-singing style known as leelo, with partly improvised epic narratives from the lead singer accompanied by a discordant chanted chorus of women singers. Their traditional folk costumes are also distinctive with dark red as the dominant colour, the women wearing heavy silver jewellery, most noticeably the large silver breastplate-brooch, the Suur Sõlg in Seto (see left).

Obinitsa village, Seto culture and leelo singing:  passing derelict communist era collective-farm buildings, we drove into Obinitsa village, one of the principal Seto villages and a major Seto cultural centre. On a hillside above the village a statue of the Seto Song-Mother stands, an honorific title for the lead-singer of the Seto leelo traditional choir. By serendipitous good chance, our visit to Obinitsa in 2011 coincided with a gathering of Seto women in their traditional costume and silver jewellery chanting their peculiar polyphony (Photo 35 - Seto leelo chorus); they stood in a circle swaying to the rhythm of their eerie music, the lead-singer reciting a line of verse and the chorus responding with their discordant polyphonic leelo chanting (see above right). The Seto Museum House set in a traditional timber building aims to illustrate Seto family life in the 1920~40s, with its central porcelain-tiled stove (see left) and displays of national costumes (see right) with the red embroidered scarves and women's handicrafts. In broken English, the lady attendant told us more about leelo singing and the traditions of the Seto silver jewellery: mothers handed on the jewellery as an heirloom when daughters marry and have children, and the large silver breastplate-brooch Suur Sõlg was a sign of relative wealth and standing in the Seto community. An exhibition showed photos and biographies of the Obinitsa leelo choir singers. We also learned more about the Setos' religious customs: they had originally adopted Orthodox Christianity when Setomaa had been part of the Principate of Pskov, and the Monastery at Pechory (Petsery) had been their church. But they also retained naturalistic elements of their pre-Christian pagan traditions, particularly those associated with Peko the king-deity of crops and fertility, who according to Seto legend sleeps eternally in a cave at Pechory Monastery; since he cannot rule his people directly, the Peko-Regent is elected annually at the Peko festival in August to represent the Setos in the name of the deity. She also described the tragic impact of the division of Setomaa by the Soviet-imposed border, separating families and creating difficulties in tending the graves of deceased family members who were now buried in Russia. Despite her efforts to answer our many questions about Seto culture, her English was too limited; she called a neighbour who spoke more fluent English, and who showed us the small village chapel next to the museum house. Little more than a simple wooden shack, this was called a Tsässon in the Seto language (Photo 36 - Obinitsa Tsässon) (see right), a word we immediately recognised as cognate with the Karelian word for chapel, Tsasouna which we had learned at Hattuvaara in Eastern Finland (the Karelians who had migrated into what is now Eastern Finland were also a Finno-Ugric people like the Setos). She told us of the traditions of both gathering at the Tsässon and offering simple shelter there for travellers. The little chapel was so beautiful in its simplicity, truly a place of peace. There was also the larger Orthodox church in Obinitsa which the villagers had managed to build by their own efforts during 1950, even at the height of the Soviet~Stalinist repression. This had been a fascinating encounter with these 2 ladies who had taught us much about the traditions of the Setos, this curiously enigmatic ethnic minority who with such apparent sang-froid had adapted themselves to the tragic vicissitudes of history. Click here to read more about the Setos.

Meremäe Hill Observation Tower and Vastseliina Castle:  Obinitsa village was a curious mix of attractive wooden cottages and very impoverished-looking, almost semi-derelict small apartment blocks dating from the Soviet era, along with the decaying remains of communist collective farms. We headed south from the village (click here for detailed map of route) through agricultural countryside; this year's cereal crops looking fully ripe after the recent hot weather were being harvested alongside fields of already harvested stubble. In 7kms we reached Meremäe village and turned south-westwards up onto the rising ground of Meremäe Hill topped by an observation tower. From its viewing platform, views opened up across Setomaa and the distant town of Pechory across the border into Russia where we could just make out through binoculars the glistening domes of the Orthodox Monastery (see above left). Continuing westwards for a further 4kms over the rolling Setomaa hill-land, we reached the conserved remains of Vastseliina Castle. The stronghold was built in 1342 by the Teutonic Knights under the leadership of the Catholic Bishop of Dorpat (Tartu) to subjugate and hold in serfdom the Estonian tribes, and to guard the borderline with Russian territory. Vastseliina Castle with its chapel and miraculous holy cross became an episcopal centre famed for its indulgences and attracting many pilgrims. It was a mighty and impregnable fortress built on a prominent mound, probably the site of a predecessor Estonian wooden tribal stockade-fort. The castle was developed and enlarged over the 15~16th centuries and constantly fought over by Teutons, Poles, Swedes and Ivan the Terrible's Muscovites, and finally captured by Peter the Great in the early 18th century Great Northern War. Vastseliina was even the scene of fighting in 1944 as the Red Army drove back the occupying Germans.

Part of the enclosing fortress wall, a corner tower and 2 further remains of towers survive, built of local limestone with upper storeys of brickwork with ornate decorative features (see above right). A family of storks nested atop the ruins of a surviving corner tower (Photo 37 - Vastseliina Castle and storks) (see above left). We parked and walked over to the museum, pleased to find a dual-pricing arrangement of €2 to enter the castle grounds and €7 for the tourist-oriented museum. We were more than happy just to explore the castle remains and to climb the surviving towers (see left). It really was a formidable structure: the surviving walls and towers would have enclosed a central area on the castle-mound top where the episcopal chapel and bishop's palace would have been sited (see right) (Photo 38 - Vastseliina Castle towers and palace mound); the inset photo shows a model of the reconstructed original episcopal palace and castle. In the museum we tried to ask more on the castle's history, but language limitations prevented our learning more.

Closed Russian border at Meremäe:  as we returned to Meremäe, it was clear from the map that the onward road through the village led to the Russian border; it was also evident from the No Through Road sign that there was no border crossing here and the lane would end at a sealed border. There are now only two visa-controlled border-crossings from Estonian Setomaa into Russia: Koidula on the A63 from Värska and Luhamaa further west on the A7 to Pskov. All the other minor lanes are now totally sealed. Nervously we drove along for 4 kms passing harvesting taking place in Estonian fields, and finally, by an attractive wooden farmstead, the road ended at a barrier with No Entry signs (see right), with the line of border markers visible across the fields. We took our photos and withdrew, back to Meremäe with its usual unattractive Soviet era panelaky apartment blocks. Back up to Obinitsa, at the northern end of the village we found the Seto Orthodox Church now undergoing restoration (see left), and alongside among woodland the village's Seto graveyard; each family grave was decorated with flowers and surrounded by benches (see below right) (Photo 39 - Obinitsa graveyard); as part of their ancestral mixed Orthodox~pagan beliefs, the Seto hold picnics at festival times around the graves and leave food for their deceased.

Piusa Sand-Caves:  the northward ongoing lane dropped down steeply to cross the Piusa River and the Valga~Pskov railway line, to reach the turning to the Piusa sand-caves. The sandstone deposits of the Piusa valley were mined for quartz sand to support the glass-making industry. Underground mines were excavated by hand, by tunnelling into the sandstone deposits creating a huge maze of 10m high galleries with arched ceilings supported by substantial sandstone pillars bearing the weight of the roof. The caverns were worked from 1922 until 1966 when mechanically operated open-cast quarrying for sand took over just to the north. The excavated sand was transported to the nearby railway line for onward shipment to glassworks elsewhere in Estonia. The abandoned sand caverns with their constant temperature and humidity became the perfect hibernating site for bats, and are now occupied by overwintering colonies of some 3,000 bats of 5 different species from all around the Baltics. Until 2008, there was open access to the caverns for visitors to scramble inside. Under pretext of safety however, the caves have now been touristified with an over-priced visitor-centre, video showings about the hibernating bats, and brief guided visits to the sand caverns. We were fortunate to find an English-speaking guide who gave us a historical overview and brief visit to the cathedral-like galleries (see left) (Photo 40 - Piusa Sand-Caves). We also took the opportunity to ask about cross-border traffic for locals, visa-access to Russia and cost. Until recently there was limited availability of free-issue of year-long visas (with much bureaucratic form-filling and long delays) for locals. Gradually however access to such free-issue visas had been withdrawn and the 12 month visas now cost €150 again with much form-filling and delays. We also talked about the brisk cross-border trade in cheap cigarettes, alcohol and petrol in Russia, and regular trips into Latvia via the open Schengen border for cheaper fuel, as we had found at Valga~Valka.

Although it was by now 5-30pm, before leaving Piusa we did want to re-walk the 1.5km nature trail around the pine-forests between the sand-caves and the modern quarries. Up over wooden step-ways past partly excavated sandstone outcrops and collapsed earlier workings, we approached the edge of the open-cast area of modern sand quarrying, a vast sea of ochre-coloured sand surrounded by pine forests (see right). We picked up the route of the nature trail, following this around the rim of the quarry and into the heath-land forest. It was here in 2011 that we had first encountered Lingonberries, so for us this place had special connotations. Among the classic sandy heath-land forest floor of Ling and Bilberry, we soon found plants of of leathery leafed Lingonberry with ripening fruit (Photo 41 - Lingonberry) (see below left). We followed the trail around through the forest past collapsed underground sand workings and WW2 German trench-lines, back to the parking area.

Hirvemäe Holiday Centre/Camping at Värska:  we now had a 25kms drive on rural back-lanes, passing through the villages of Orava and Treski, where a small Seto Tsässon stood by the roadside (see below right) and harvesters were busily at work in the fields. This brought us to the large village of Värska, tucked away in this far isolated SE corner of modern-day Estonia on the shores of Lake Pihka, the southern extension of Lake Peipsi. Reaching Värska, we found the A-ja-O mini-market for provisions and were pleasantly surprised by a young assistant, Karina, who chatted away in fluent English, having lived in Holland for 2 years. In the village outskirts, we turned off to Hirvemäe Holiday Centre/Camping where we had camped in 2011. The lad in the kitchen did his best to help us, showing us the limited and unshaded camping area and rather unclean facilities. We scouted around and found a more shaded place to camp among the pine trees on a flat-topped hillock, just about accessible and overlooking the lake. We brought George up onto the hillock and settled in for a late supper in the early evening sunshine (see below left) (Photo 42 - Hirvemäe Camping). What a day of exploration and learning this had been, along the Setomaa border with Russia.

Värska's first class Tourist Information Centre:  we packed and managed to extricate George from the hillock at Hirvemäe Camping to drive back into Värska which gave the appearance of being as anachronistic as it was remote, simply a scattering of communist era low apartment blocks among the pine trees (click here for detailed map of route). First stop was the TIC where we were greeted by a fluently English-speaking lady named Elin, who answered all our questions, overwhelming us with detailed information not only about Setomaa and the Seto traditional way of life, but also about other areas of Estonia to visit. Elin's family was Seto in origin but had moved to Tallin 3 generations ago. She had now moved back to Setomaa and although she could read Seto, she admitted to being unable to speak the language. She was however able to answer more of our questions adding further to our understanding of Seto history and culture. Many Setos had left Setomaa for the cities, particularly during the Soviet period when being identified as Seto was stigmatised. The Estonian authorities now offered incentives to encourage the young to return to Setomaa, resulting in shortage of housing in the region such as at Värska. We had been intrigued by the curious mix of attractive rural wooden cottages alongside semi-derelict panelaky apartment blocks in villages such as Obinitsa and Meremäe. Elin confirmed our supposition that the apartments had been built originally during the communist period for workers on collective farms, adding that they had also been assigned as housing for public service workers such as teachers or kindergarten staff. She also described the chaotic situation after Estonian independence in 1991: apartments had been forcibly taken over by the communist state in 1950s, and in 1991 attempts were made to return them to their original owners. Occasionally this meant that people who could not prove ownership had to leave homes they had occupied for 40 years. Ownership of remaining apartments now rests with local authorities. She told us more about the traditional Seto festivals: the graveyard picnic days varied between villages, but the Seto Kingdom Day (Seto Kuningriik), when the Setos gather to elect the Peko Regent to represent them, happens on the first Saturday in August; this year's Kingdom Day Festival would be held this coming Saturday at Lüübnitsa, and she urged us to attend. We talked more about the difficulties created by the imposed border which now divides Setomaa, and the necessity of obtaining visas even to visit the graves of family members. The border treaty allowed for an annual allocation of 2,000 free of charge 'cultural visas' to attend festivals or for graveyard visits: the Russian authorities had however recently privatised administration of visas issues, and the contract for providing the service awarded to a Chinese contractor with no local knowledge or awareness; claims of abuse of the free issue visas for shopping purposes had led to increased bureaucratic demands for justification of festivals attended. We spent over an hour talking with Elin about the Seto people and their traditions.