Finland's lakeland is a country of water more than of land, and Päijänne, the second largest lake in the country, runs south from here for over a hundred kilometres in long, island-dotted fingers. Oravivuori, Squirrel Hill, is a forested rise near Puolakka in the Korpilahti district, now part of Jyväskylä, and the lookout on the hill gives a wide view over spruce, pine and the shining lake beyond. The label points to a hill rather than a monument, so think of it as a place to climb, look and breathe.
The riding is calm and rhythmic. Finnish country roads are well surfaced, with gentle rises and falls through birch and pine, and the lake appears and disappears between the trees. Speed limits are strictly enforced and fines are scaled to income, so keep to the signs. Elk are the real hazard, especially at dawn and dusk, when they step out of the forest without warning, and the warning signs are not decoration. Summer days are very long, with light until late, and September brings crisp air and colour, but frost can arrive early, so a warm layer is sensible.
Korpilahti has just over five thousand people and is the practical place for fuel and food, about ten kilometres away. Luhanka, farther off, is much smaller. Fuel stations in rural Finland are often automated and card-only, so carry a card that works, and do not let the tank run low. Petäjävesi, a short ride to the west, has a remarkable old wooden church, built in the 1760s by a local farmer-builder in a mixture of log construction and Lutheran form, and now on the UNESCO list. It is a small, plain building of dark timber, and it rewards a visit.
Do as the Finns do and finish the day with a sauna and a swim, if you can find a lakeside cabin. Failing that, a coffee and a cinnamon bun at a village cafe makes a respectable second best. The silence at dusk, with the lake turning pewter and a loon calling somewhere in the reeds, is one of the great pleasures of the north.