P-Iirot v Inter Turku II
TuWe v ToVe
Inter Turku v TPS
HJK/Lsalo v Sexy Pöxyt
After a slight dearth in football attendance, for the rest of the year I have sorted out a four weekly programme of European weekends away. The first of these was a long weekend away in Finland, with some games, trains and brew pubs around the south half of the country.
I flew out from Manchester to Helsinki on the Thursday morning. There were some games on in the capital but these looked to mostly be on 3g tennis courts. So instead I headed north, for reasons that may, or may not come apparent. A short ride on the new metro line from the airport, with its new Stadler units, took me to the main line interchange at Tikkurila.
A quick hop over to the main line platforms saw an inter city service arrive, with more Swiss traction, this time an Sr2 on double decker, push-pull stock
Soon after departing from Helsinki, we entered a forest, and passed a frozen lake. I thought this was a pleasent scene, enhanced by the Estonia beer, so took a picture.
After a couple of hours, a small clearing in the still continuing forest, revealed our reversal station of Tampere.
Tampere is the junction of the main line from Helsinki to the north of Finland, with branches to Pori, Turku and my destination, Jyväskylä. The branches run at two hourly intervals, and they all depart at the same time as the north and south bound trains pass each other, forming a wonderfully connected services for passengers. On the right is the Finnish version of a Pendolino, heading into Helsinki, whilst on the left are cross platform connections for Pori and Jyväskylä. The slightly less popular connection to Turku necessitating a wander down the subway to the far platform.
Heading off, we immeditely re-entered the forest, with relief from trees only coming in the form of, yes you've guessed it, frozen lakes. I stopped taking pictures of them after this.
Having seen just about as many trees and frozen lakes a person can endure in one day, we eventually arrived at my residence for the night, Jyväskylä.
The town is a fairly recent addition to the populous of Finland, having only 8,000 residents pre WW2, with that being due to its location at the head of a number of neighbouring lakes, so was used as trading point. However, it became an important military location during WW2, especially the Continuation War when Nazi Germany enlisted the help of Finland and Lapland to take on Russia. To me, this is akin to the East Coast/West Coast gangster rap wars, with Death Row enlisting the help of MC Hammer and Richard Blackwood for their fight against Bad Boy Records. Jyväskylä is now the home of the Finnish Air Force. Its modern day population of 140k being driven by it being a leading university town, as well as a centre for the paper industry. I guess they haven't found a way to make money out of frozen lakes.
Anyway, the station building was very quaint.
I headed to my hotel in the centre, which had the attractive frontspiece of a large pile of ice encrusted grit.
The reason for my diversion to this far flung outpost was because, catching up with a railway colleague the week before, I found that my visit co-incided with the Branch Line Society tour of Finish logging railways. For the uninitiated, the BLS are a group of uber train cranks, but instead of taking train numbers, try and clear train tracks. Take note, that isn't train lines, no, they record every single track, platform, or siding they have been on. It is largely populated by absolute weirdos, even by railway standards, but there are one or two more normal members, who I was going to enjoy the local drinking scene with. However, checking out ratebeer, there seemed to only be five bars in the town, with this being the most highly ranked.
Eventually we did find somewhere that advertised itself as a brew pub, except in reality, the brewing was done at a pub seventy miles away.
However, the beer was decent, this being their weissbier. I was accompanied by the undisputed drinking champion of the west midlands. The upside were the stories about being sacked from Oxley due to disposing of out of date detonators, rather than sending them recorded delivery to Swindon, instead strappaed a hundred of them to a siding and ran the depot shunter over them, which sent most of the livestock in south Staffordshire on a stampede. The downside was shelling out nine pound a pint for something which would be consumed by my companion in a couple of mouthfuls, to be followed by 'I'd be just as happy with a £2 pint of Batham's from the railway club'.
The following morning I bid farewell to my drinking companions as they commenced their tour to try and spot every tree in Central Finland. I instead headed slightly out of town, for the obligatory visit to the local football ground.
The local team are called in JJK and were formed in 1992 from a merger of JYP77 and JyPK, keeping the Scandinavian tradition of having names that sound more like personalised car number plates than football clubs. They slowly emerged from the fourth division up to the top flight, and who can forget their memorable 2012 Europa Cup campaign? Yes, the one where they triumphed over Stabæk of Norway but were then knocked out by Montenegro's mighty FK Zeta.
The Harjun stadion was opened in 1923, mainly for athletics, until then the local horse racing track was used. Football was played here from the 1930s though the spectator facilities were not developed until the 1950s, and this was primarily for the baseball that was played here.
Viewing facilities are restricted to a main stand with some open seating either side. The stand was re-built in 2000 for the Veterans' World Athletics Championships.
Next it was back into the centre for a rather uninspiring town square.
So instead I sought out the advertised 'Craft Museum of Finalnd' which looked just to be a gift shop. A passer by noticed my underwhelmed look, and asked if they could help. I asked them if it was the museum and they confirmed it was, offering that there were displays of national costumes and an exhibition of something that they struggled to pronounce. He roped in another passer by to try and assistance, and in the end, the use of google translate, revealed the exhibition to be about...
...none other than this. Even I have my limits.
So instead it was back to the station, where a whole new building seemed to have sprung up since I'd passed through it the previous evening.
Of interest was this on the platform. Network Rail charge millions and take years to assemble even the most basic platform shelter, yet these guys have put up one to protect a preserved kettle, that looks like it could survive a nuclear winter, and in doing so, obscures any views of it.
My train rolled in, it being a through service to Helsinki.
Needless to say what the views were of.
This time I was changing trains at Tampere, with the five way connection being seen here. On the right, a main line service north to Vaasa, on the left trains for Jyväskylä and Helsinki, wilst in the far platform the Turku branch service, with only my intended train not being visible.
Eventually tracking my Pori bound service, I was delighted to see that it was being worked by an ex-Soviet Sr1 loco, and not only that, 3001, the original loco.
However, there was then a faff as the loco was failed by the driver, and taken off the train. This can go two ways, as either the train will be cancelled, or more positively, they will just grab any old loco so potentially some rare haulage could be had.
Pleasingly, it was the latter scenario as one of the freight allocated locos then appeared, still in the old VR livery. Winner.
We headed off, a few minutes late, passing a frozen lake and what I can only imagine to be Europe's coldest roller coaster.
The exciting part of the journey, was that some of the frozen lakes were thawing.
Rather unexpectedly for a three car train, and being on the upper deck of it, a catering trolley appeared, the only beer being a slightly surprising 5.4% version of the Karhu III, inevitably owned by Carlsberg.
Next on the line was Nokia. It's rubber works diversifying into making cable shrouding, then electric cables, then radios and then everyone's first mobile phone.
I was travelling of staff coupons, of which I am lucky enough to get first class. In Finland it is known as 'Ekstra' and occupies the upper deck of one coach. There is a gate at the stairs keeping out any strays.
It then has a self service refreshment area for free tea and coffee and snacks, with the source of the trolley from earlier being revealed, as the door on the left is a lift.
We arrived at journey's end at Pori, which is apparently the 11th largest city in Finland.
But instead I headed to the Porin stadion, home of FC Jazz and NiceFutis. It is also the former home ground of FC PoPa. The former are the trade union side who renamed themselves after the local jazz festival. NiceFutis are a play on words as NaisFutis is the Finish name for womens football, but they chose to make it sound like 'nice fetus'. The stadium was built in 1963, with the current stands dating from a rebuild in 2000. Its exposed nature gives it the not particularly flatering nickname of the 'Stadium of Eternal Wind'. It hosts the occasional U21 international.
Back to the station where the loco had run round the train for its return to Tampere.
With yet another large pile of ice encrusted grit.
However, my next move was by bus, from the station forecourt.
An hours journey southwards through uninspiring flatlands, took me to Rauma.
Rauma is located on the western coast of Finland and has long been a prosperous sea port for trade with Sweden and onto Germany. As well as being convenient for the export of paper and wood pulp, it has also developed a niche in shipbuilding. Rather more unexpectedly, it is the centre of the Finish lace industry, and hosts the annual lace week, which culminates in Black Lace Night. Make your own jokes about Wakefield's finest.
Anyway, the modern port is some way out of town, meaning the centre is very neat and gentrified. Like the bastard love child of Immingham and Stoke Poges.
This is a familiar sight in Scandinavian countries. What appears to be a floodlit football pitch is actually a winter time ice rink for teenagers to engage in heavy petting, or for variations of winter sports. For locations like this, perimeter boards are erected and rather than ice hockey, bandy is played which is basically akin to the former but instead of a puck, a ball rather is used. The reason this is popular is that firstly, a less precise rink is required, secondly, more players can take part, and thirdly, physical contact isn't a pre-requisite so it isn't the preserve of mulleted steroid freaks.
However, I had more pressing things to do. like the Rauma Maritime museum.
The rather poor offering of grit pile immediately caused me concern.
And eventually clambering to the front of the building, I found it was closed. Well Seadog, the the waves never sleep.
I had to suffice with a clouded up display of a nautical map of West Finland islands, a cerificate in local dialect, a model of a tall ship and a stuffed fish with a tail.
And the worst Knight Rider replica ever.
The Finish A-Team were slightly more impressive.
So instead I headed for the railway station, which closed to passengers in the 1980s. Bloody Thatcher.
Except that there was no sign of any action.
Except for the obligatory pile of ice infested grit.
Wandering back into town I encountered this plinthed kettle.
Which became more impressive when it was revealed to be the centre piece of a double roundabout.
I have no idea what this place did. Perhaps there is a demand for treating people who have been stuck up the arse by lightening whilst puking up in just their pants?
So instead I retired to the world's least architecturally pleasing bar. And I include Cumbernauld in this judgement.
I knocked of the rest of the Karhu range whilst watching Murder She Wrote with the sound turned down but with Finish subtitles. 8.6% beer makes you imagine a very good episode, although the rhino head is disconcerting.
However, a very good bottle bar was discovered, perhaps too early in the day.
Roughly 14 bottles of localish brews down, I remembered I was here for my first football of the trip, and wobbled up the hill out of town.
Not sure what this does, but more approaches to football grounds should have them on display.
I then stumbled on perhaps the most publicly visible third tier football ground I have ever encountered.
With the easiest penetrable turnstiles. I was honest enough to pay my four euro entrance, main so I could get a programme.
It was then across the road to the supporter's club for an un-filtered Carlsberg derivative.
Pallo-Iirot Rauma 2 v Inter Turku II 0, Kolmonen (Länsi-Suomen)
The home side were formed in 1930 as Iirot, though had a spell as bandy team in the 1940s. After spells in the first and second tiers, in 1992 they merged with the other local team Raumo Pallo, to become Pallo-Iirot
As for the visitors, they were the reserves of Inter Turku, who play in the top tier of Finish football. I was watching their first team in the Turku derby the following day so I won't spoil the surprise of finding out about them now.
The Äijänsuon stadion translates as the Mammal Stadium, so called because of the amount of fossils that were found when it was dug out of the hillside during its construction.
The main feature is this 500 seater grandstand.
On the far side is this rather spectacular seated offering. Eat you heart out Atcost.
Back in the main stand, and spectators helped themselves to a complementary piece of foam.
The teams entered the field for their first competitive game of the season.
With the home side then entering into a huddle, which immediately decided who I didn't want to win.
Except the vistors then waited for them to finish, and started their own huddle. I then wanted both sides to be struck by lightening.
And so the game started.
With Pallo-Iirot taking an immediate lead, trciking past the visiting keeper.
Which I celebrated by visiting the food outlets. These were at the back of the main stands but with windows so those serving could watch the game.
I had an indecipherable piece of meat in a club branded paper bag.
And got back in with the home side still celebrating.
I then went a wandering, and was immediately taken by this rock formation. However, I then noticed the bloke on the left. One of the die hard rules of non-league is that, you can provide a thousand heated leather sofas with complementary waitress service, but if there is also a stack of bricks, someone will still chose to sit on them instead.
I joined my new friend. Not a bad view.
Needless to say, the grit/ice hybrid mound was present.
The reverse view of the ground, with the Zeppelin hanger in the background actually being a snow dome.
The collection of wise old moaners, found at most non-league grounds, chose to watch the action from the car park of an indoor snow dome.
Which gave some alternative views of youth team squad members, stood on granite outcrops, eating Subway meal deals, watching trick wing play.
And an alternative view of the Withdean.
Disappointingly, there was little high ball action, but I did manage to capture this, which appeared to clear both the floodlights and high rise flats.
Over to the opposite side and once again, it proved that the Fins prefer floodlight foundations over Recaro seating.
And again.
Or even just a wall.
Atmospheric shots of football being played in front of rock hewn cliffs, with the dieing embers of the winter snow, dwarfed by the concrete arch of a synthetic ski slope.
By now the geomorphology was attracting more spectators.
But no more goals, the game ending 2-0.
On the way home, there was just time for a post match kebab.
Which had a number of unusual features compared to the kebab houses I am more familiar with:-
1. The serving of alcohol.
2. The provision of a very hand looking steak knife.
3. The goldfish bearing water feature in the table. Ever wondered what a miniature shark would look like at the point of climax if it tried mating with a tramps boot?
I headed back to the hotel, with our nudist friend from before still being pursued by the anal lightening.
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