Impilahti was a Finnish parish until the Second World War, and the name still hangs over this corner of northern Ladoga like an old coat on a hook. Today the area belongs to the Republic of Karelia, and the nearest towns are Lyaskelya and Pitkyaranta, both small industrial settlements strung along the lake.
The geology is the story. This is the edge of the Baltic Shield, some of the oldest rock in Europe, scraped bare by ice and left as rounded pink and grey granite, with pines clinging to every crack. Between the outcrops are bogs, small lakes and birch forest, and in the evening the light on the water is long and soft. The Ladoga skerries are also a seal habitat: the Ladoga ringed seal is a freshwater species found nowhere else, and it is rare enough that you should not expect to see one from the road.
The history is layered and sad in the usual border way. Before 1940, this was Finnish Karelia, with Lutheran and Orthodox communities, and farms and fishing villages. After the Winter War and the Continuation War, the population left and the land passed to the Soviet Union, and new settlers came in from other regions. Pitkyaranta, a few kilometres up the shore, grew around mines that produced copper and tin in the nineteenth century, and the old workings and spoil heaps are still part of the landscape. Memorials and old cemeteries are scattered about, and many have been neglected.
The ride follows narrow roads through forest and past small lakes, with long straights between low rises and the odd tight bend around a rock. Mosquitoes and blackflies are fierce from June to August. The best months are late May, early June, and September, when the air is clear and the leaves turn.
For fuel, aim for Pitkyaranta, the nearest sizeable town, about nineteen kilometres off, and fill up before heading to the water. Shops and cafés are simple but friendly. Stop where the road meets the shore, and look at the islands. They are the quiet heart of the place.