Terii’s Cycling Babble


Hunting Through Unseasonable Weather
April 8, 2013, 9:51 am
Filed under: Day Rides

Hunting for what? Runestones!

I had time to ponder my rides when a low-grade cold dug its claws in. I had a few flare ups of fever where my face felt warm, but I shivered. Stuffy sinuses which meant lots of sneezing and a couple days where brisk walking proved my chest was a little congested. The symptoms were a uncomfortable and unpleasant, but I only felt miserable for a couple hours when I first woke up.

I didn’t want to pedal around with a fever, even a mild one. I’ve just been waiting the cold out while wanting to climb out of my skin with the desire to cycle, to gather miles. Annoying as it might be to wait, it would be even more so if I jumped the gun had a relapse into a worse cold.

While waiting for the annoying little illness to pass, I looked around at my local rides, trying to find something that might refresh them. The idea of redoing the Danmark area crossed my mind again. After all, there was that runestone behind Danmark Church, the one I wouldn’t walk to because waist high grass made my skin crawl. The thought of ticks kept me out. I’d planned to return after the first snows or before grass grew that high again.

While doing some research, I’d also discovered there were other stones in the area. With the extra time on my  hands, I looked into it a little more. In doing so, I discovered an on-line catalog of runestones. With each entry was a little inset of Google Map with a marker for the stone location. That little tidbit made me almost giddy!

On the 6th, I was finally starting to feel a bit normal. When I woke on the 7th and felt completely normal (no sniffles or sneezes), I set about to making maps of the area, determined to ride around in search of all the runestones in the Danmark Parish district.

Clouds had moved in during the evening of the 6th. We had a truly gray sky for the first time in a month or so. By the time the sun rose on the 7th, it looked as if the clouds had moved on and at 6 am it was just 32 F. The mildest night we’ve had in a long while. Most evenings we’ve been getting into the low 20’s though the days reached nearly 40 F.

I didn’t map a route, but I did print overlapping maps connecting all the Danmark stones. While I waited for Jens to wake, relax and have his first couple cups of coffee, I flipped through them to puzzle out the best way to pass the stones with least bit of double back.

We were out the door by 10 am to drive to the site of the first stone.

The stone was along the road not far from a small nature reserve we’ve walked in once or twice. That made the reserve’s parking lot the perfect place to begin. Nice space to unload the trike and out of traffic.

Pasture land next to parking lot.

Pasture land next to parking lot.

As I got to work and Jens strolled around with Loke, I began to regret my decision to dress lighter. I had thin wool on my legs covered over with my tights topped with my wind resistant pants. My torso was protected with thin wool beneath my pink cycle shirt. I had packed my yellow windbreaker which was critical since I’d forgotten my sheepskin again. That’s turning into a bad habit.

The wind was the big problem. It blew hard from the north and had a dry bite that cut right through my clothes. My hands ached within minutes. I had made a miscalculation about the weather based on how the past week or two had been.

Jens cast a look to north where thicker clouds crept in. ‘Those look… threatening.’ he commented, yet was still determined I ride and take Loke with me. Those words carried the weight of prophecy.

Loke was raring to go. Of course, he’s always got his Arctic parka with him and thrives running in the cold. As Jens drove off down the muddy road, the furball hopped and yodeled at the end of the tether. When I finally let go of the brakes, we were off like a bolt of lightning.

In less than 100 yards, I was truly missing that sheepskin.

Uppland's Runestone #949

Uppland’s Runestone #949

The quarter mile to the first of the runestones passed in mere moments. Loke’s paws did an impatient tap dance while I pulled out the camera.

Uppland’s Runestone #949 sat next to a small canal for field drainage and the road. It looked as if it’s had a hard time for its 900-1000 years of history since it was first carved. Broken and patched, runes lost to the damage or weathering.

Though I had the web-site for some info (like the rune translations), I’d hoped for one of the metal placards which often has more info than that. Where the stone might have been found or when discovered. Alas there was none. At least I knew what it was and had the image as well as the translation. Something at least.

Then we were off again. Loke ran. Though wet, the road was fairly well packed. I took the rocky center so Loke had the nice smooth tire strips. He loved it, tongue flopping in the wind in his goofy grin.

There were two ways to go toward the next stone. One was a mile or more longer as it zigged down mostly paved roads though nice enough scenery. The other way was shorter, unpaved, banned to motorized through-traffic and had a sign warning of a road boom.

Unless a road is marked as private, I don’t have qualms going down it. Road booms aren’t much trouble either. Generally, removing my flag is the only accommodation I have to make to scoot under them.

Pretty Farm Building

Pretty Farm Building

I stopped to look at the shorter route. It didn’t look inviting. Mushy and wet. It would put that malicious wind to my back, a welcome thought. Even with a mesh seat as meager shelter from the breeze, that would be a relief than go on with it leeching the warmth from my face and body. Not to mention, I wanted to get on with finding the stones. I took it.

It was better than it looked. The first 200 yards or so were boggy, loose mud and each step Loke took splattered his legs and belly. Then it dried out. Too much so.

The wheels cast up puffs of dust which the vagrant swirls of frigid wind threw into my face. I could feel it peppering my skin. When every time I opened my mouth to praise the furry one, I could feel the grit on my teeth. That reason alone, I was only too glad to see the end of that road and rejoin a paved street.

Colder than it looks

Colder than it looks

Off the gravel strewn lane which had added rolling resistance, Loke pulled out all the stops and I pedaled briskly to keep up. The extra warmth of vigorous exercise was needed when the sun had nearly disappeared behind the thickening clouds. In spite of the cold winds, there were a lot of people out. Just the first couple miles, I’d passed three joggers and double that number of walkers.

We passed one woman pole walking as I made the turn on the tiny little road which supposedly had two runestones within a 300 yard stretch. One at the intersection and another where the field gave way to a hedge surrounding a house. Nothing. I doubled back toward the road, driving Loke completely crazy by creeping along in my search. Still, I looped back to look twice more. As I headed back to the main street again, she was giving us curious looks. Rather, I should say increasingly curious looks as she’d stared in surprise the first time we’d passed

The next two runestones were along the 288, which is a busy 2 lane country road with not much of a shoulder. I foresee it becoming a carriageway in the near future. I’m not so worried about that however as it already had a cycle path. That much I’d seen from a quick peek at Google Street View. That’s why I was a bit shocked when I arrived at the intersection and… no cycle path.

I had no doubts there was a lovely paved MUP that went along the road and right next to one of the runestones sitting just off the road. Glancing at my maps, I went back to a turn I’d passed, wanting to avoid a climb and rough surfaces. That little lane ended in the sought-for cycle way. I winced as it carried us down a long, gravel covered hill. This was one of the double-backs I’d been unable to avoid.

The path was nice though. The majority of our time on it, it led through a field, well back from the ‘whoosh’ of passing cars. Along there, I heard honking as if geese or swans.

Elegant Birds

Elegant Birds

Swans it turned out. A small flock of them sat in the field, not far from the path. I stopped to admire them, taking photos every now and again. Part of it was also the hope that they’d shift position or do something a little more interesting than sit there. One accommodated me by stretching it’s wings, but I was too slow to catch it.

Loke didn’t seem overly impressed with them. He glanced at them a few times and spent the rest of the duration sighing at me.

A quick jaunt at a 10 mph lope carried us to the closest point to the next runestone in the distance halfway across a field. I stopped and stood up to see over railing between path and road to look at the situation. I had come mentally prepared to do some field stomping this day.

Uppland's Runestone #957

Uppland’s Runestone #957

The enormity of getting to Uppland’s Runestone #957 became obvious. The section of field along the 282 had no field access for the tractors. So, not only would I have needed to climb a steep embankment and scurry across the busy road before I could even start the hike across the field, I would have to cross a significant ditch full of water. Unlikely.

Where I expected the field access to be, along another road past the next stone, would have meant walking double the distance. Either way would have required me to leave the trike for potentially an hour or more. It would have been safe from traffic on the cycle path, but easily seen to anyone who might want to pilfer through my bags or had the equipment to cut the trike loose. Parking along the other road near a tractor access would have been right on the edge of the road (granted less traffic) and still in plain view of the 282. It didn’t appear that there’d be anything for me to chain the trike against either. A quick snatch and grab and I’d have been trike-less. Well, I’d have been back to riding my Trice.

Drawing a heavy sigh and casting a last longing look at the placard I could see even from that distance, I took a picture of the stone from far away. Pity, it looked impressive. Most stones are about 3 feet tall. This one looked as if it was taller than I was.

Uppland's Runestone #956

Uppland’s Runestone #956

Loke barely had enough time to build up speed before I stopped for Uppland’s Runestone #956.

Between the cycle path and the stone was a… barricade for lack of a better word. Maybe it was there to protect the stone from pile up of plowed snow. It didn’t look entirely permanent, though it was heavy. Most of what held it up were chains running to ground stakes. Annoyingly, one of those chains went right across the face of the stone. The placement of that huge protective bulk also made it difficult to get a good angle for the picture.

Which is a pity because this photo does little to show the unusual ‘kink’ in the stone. My first reaction upon seeing it clearly was, ‘Awww. It’s broken and they didn’t repair it?’ It took only moments for me to see that it was of one piece just oddly shaped. How the man in 1710 thought it was broken (if I translated the info sign correctly), I have no clue. Unless he just took a quick glance or something. Even bent, it still stood a little taller than my head. I think it’s become one of my favorite stones. I still haven’t found anything to replace my absolute favorite though. That’s one that shows a winter hunting scene.

The journey back along the cycle path was a bit more unpleasant. The wind was more to the front and I seriously considered digging out my mask a time or three. I also finally turned on my footwarmers and wished I’d brought my shoe covers. Granted, my toes never developed the ‘being twisted off with pliers’ feeling, but still uncomfortable with the bottoms being almost too toasty to counter the almost too cold tops.

I also heard and saw swans winging their way overhead in several directions. I thought it was the flock I’d photographed, but no, they were still sitting placidly where I left them. I took pity on Loke and we passed without stopping for more pictures. Besides, they’d hardly changed position. Returning to the road I’d earlier left behind in search of the cycle path, I did a quick scurry across.

Uppland's Runestone #950

Uppland’s Runestone #950

I made Loke happy by letting him stretch his legs for a bit, whipping around the left turn to carry us to the next stone. Since it was on the left side of the road, I passed it to find somewhere to more easily turn around so as to park next to it on the way out.

As I came up to a house and modern, metal sided barn to make the turn, a car came toward us. The couple in it were quite enthusiastic about greeting us. The man driving rolled down his window to call out greetings as the woman waved excitedly from the passenger seat. That brought a smile to my face.

For being a dead end little road there was a silly amount of traffic on it for just a pair of farm houses and a few buildings. The time I turned onto and until I left it, almost a dozen cars passed me only 3 of them were the same ones.

A small, surprisingly dry ditch separated the road and the Uppland’s Runestone #950.

I liked it! Well, I like all runestones, but this one was almost as distinctive as the kinked stone. Most of the time, the runes are carved in a band at the outer edge. On this one the inscription twisted and twined with a rune beast. I’m curious enough to search through my runestone collection to see how many do this. After this post is finished obviously.

Oops!

Oops!

Next to it stood a placard. Granted, the ditch bottom was dry, or at least the thick mat of grass was, but a mass of snow crouched in a long line starting at the far bottom of the ditch almost to the base of the stone. I guessed it was at least a 1 or 2 feet deep. Still, foot prints showed where someone else had approached the sign.

Loke woofed impatiently at me as I carefully placed my feet in the previous prints and leaned forward to snap the photo. No problem!

Shifting my weight back to step down, my left foot suddenly plunged down. I wobbled, standing on that leg in a hole up to my knee. As gently as I could, I shifted my weight onto the right foot to step out of the hole. That little ledge gave way, pushing my knee almost up to my waist. Things became a lot less graceful at that point, as I flailed around, trying not to send the camera flying while scrambling for balance.

Loke had quit woofing. Instead he stood with his head cutely cocked as if wondering what on earth I was doing. I had to laugh.

I briefly consulted my printed maps, waving at the passing cars. It was another of those spots where I had a choice. I could turn left at the end of the road to head to another runestone before going to Danmark Church or I could go to the church and then an out-n-back to the runestone.

I liked the contrast between the brick and wood.

I liked the contrast between the brick and wood.

I chose the out-n-back option. I had a feeling a fair bit of the other way involved unpaved roads which could be a soggy mess or, worse, a slushy one. The other way was completely paved. I was starting to feel the wind too much to not take the path of least resistance.

Small Smithy, Loke & Trike

Small Smithy, Loke & Trike

While climbing a hill just across from the previous runestone, it occurred to me I’d never approached Danmark Church from this direction. It was a pretty area. A farm house with a interesting barn across the road. Small pastures draped in snow with rocks peeking through and all of it surrounded by some kind of short-needled conifer where the snow had already retreated for the most part.

The road condition wasn’t the best, but better than mud. At the top of the hill I found a beautiful little building. A handmade sign which looked to be of recent origin said ‘Smedjan’ means ‘smithy’. With a vase and other homey touches showing in the windows, it was clearly used for something else. Still, it was lovely and I thought the straw bale and wooden barrel next to the door were a nice touch.

I felt a little guilty after I took the picture. Loke was stubbornly looking away. So, I cheerfully said, ‘Cookie?’ and his gaze whipped toward me in anticipation. Maybe I should start carrying treats just for such circumstances. Otherwise, I don’t know how many more times he’d fall for the trick.

Danmark Kyrka - Back Side

Danmark Kyrka – Back Side

The rest of the way to Danmark Church was pleasant. After the first bigger hill, the road improved a bit and the successive climbs were kinder.

As I coasted to a stop outside a small, more modern structure across from the church yard, another car pulled into the handicapped spot just at the door of the little building. An elderly woman got out as I offered Loke water. She told me with a smile that ‘He’s moving the car if you want to stop in this spot.’ Smiling back, I shook my head and pointed to the bike rack, ‘I’m going to walk closer for pictures.’

I left Loke tethered with the trike. The church yard wasn’t forbidden to dogs, just banned dogs from using it as a latrine. Rather than risking offending the nice woman who was visiting a grave, it seemed safest to leave him. I don’t let him use the bathroom in churchyards, but most people can’t know that and I am reluctant to give even the appearance of disrespect. Religion is one of those sensitive subjects.

I made my way carefully to the runestone. There was quite a bit of snow lingering around it, not to mention the ground hard frozen. If too much ice formed around the SPD cleats in my shoes, I could easily slip and go tumbling. Not good for me and probably as bad or worse for the camera.

Uppland's Runestone #946

Uppland’s Runestone #946

It felt great to finally snap the shutter on Uppland’s Runestone #946. The stone itself was rather unremarkable looking. Standing about 3 and a feet tall, the carved face had simple circular band of the inscription around a crucifix. Except for being rounder in shape, it looked much like the stone in Börje Church’s graveyard wall.

From the stone, I could see Loke sitting alertly near the trike, watching me. By the time I’d navigated down the snowy-icy slope to reach the church yard gate, he’d laid down from boredom.

He still wanted to charge along, but didn’t get to do so for far. I went around the curve to climb up to the front gate of the church yard. There, I took a rest break in the nice clean bathroom in the 1700’s building outside the wall. I was quite tempted to linger in the wonderful heat. The little radiator was too warm to comfortably touch.

An Old Building Near Danmark Church

An Old Building Near Danmark Church

Though I came promptly out, Loke still had to wait. Though it was Sunday, there weren’t enough cars around for religious services, but I hoped the church might not be locked yet. I went up the path to try the door. Sadly, it was buttoned up tight.

Loved This View

Loved This View

We breezed on down the hill from there, Loke grinning and charging along at about 16 mph. There was a stretch of tiny up and down hills tucked in a patch of woods and small houses/cottages where a couple people waved as we passed. Then the landscape opened up again into fields.

This was the 3rd time I’ve ridden that rode though the first I could recall going away from Danmark Church. Both of the previous times, I’d approached from the direction of the Mora Stones.

The sun flirted with us, though proving a cruel tease. Dressed a little too lightly, I was slowly chilling in spite of the exercise. Those brief moments of relief in areas sheltered from the wind or graced with the warmth of sunlight were too brief. I wasn’t cold enough to shiver, but I wasn’t comfortable either. Loke on the other hand was happy and enthusiastic.

At least I had my mittens to my hands were warm and dexterous.  That allowed me to managed both maps and GPS while rolling and keeping an eye out for the tiny, dead-end road with the next runestone.

Winter Clinging On

Winter Clinging On

It proved quite complicated and ended in frustration. I apparently rolled past it without seeing it which never bodes well. Turning around I went back through the stretch slower, the tether bar squeaking like crazy as as the furball tried with all his might to pull faster. Clearly he was unwilling to put up with 4 mph. The brakes said otherwise.

Finally, I stopped at a muddy drive leading through a collection of buildings. Two or three houses, a few large farm buildings, all older, perhaps dating to the 1800’s though not much earlier if I’ve become any sort of judge in such things. A child’s tiny play cottage. The GPS insisted this was the little road with the configuration matching the map. Dubiously, I went down it.

It led… no where. Any trace of a drive or path just petered out into flat ground with a huge circle of gravel where winter-dead grass peeked through. GPS insisted there was some kind of road taking a sharp right which would have been behind a barn, but there was no such thing. Baffled, I even left the trike so Loke and I could walk that way a bit. No lane/path and certainly nothing to be seen of a runestone.

The task of runestone hunting was turning out to be more frustrating than anticipated.

Nice enough scenery for the climbs

Nice enough scenery for the climbs

We zipped back toward Danmark Church. It went a little slower as it was mostly uphill with the church sitting on one of the higher points of the local landscape. The ascent could have been slower. Loke was pulling most of the way with a determined angle to his ears.

Finally, we crossed the ‘tipping point’ and the trike raced downward with Loke gleefully loping along. It’s a long coasting ride to  go beneath the E4 before it flattens out for a half mile or so. We took full advantage of that change in terrain.

I realized something as I spun along on the flat between a pair of fields. Runestones draw my eye the way a magnet pulls iron. I hadn’t begun the search for the next runestone, apparently having marked it a little wrong on the map, but I caught myself staring at it before I knew what it was.

It sat in the middle of a field, well back from any road or path. Unlike Uppland’s Runestone #957, a tractor access was near to hand. I pulled into it and rolled down a the slope about 12 feet from the road edge. I looked at the ground.

It looked smoother than a plowed field usually does, almost flat instead of ridged with chunks of earth. A soft furring of green covered it completely lacking snow or ice anywhere between the trike’s wheels to the stone some 200-300 yards away. It looked simple enough.

How wrong I was. Trike locked up, I collected the handbar bag and furball and stepped out. A bit of mud clung to the shoe bottoms in the first couple steps. Yet more on the next. Still more. By my tenth stride, I was laughing, giggling really. Each foot had a thick, gooey clump of dark mud with the consistency of potter’s clay at the very least. It did not want to let go. It never really closed over my shoes, it just got thicker and bigger around the soles. I wobbled and struggled to drag the weight of it. A few times I stopped, attempting to balance on one leg while shaking the other in hopes of dislodging some of the goop before collecting more. That nearly sent me down which would have been unpleasantly interesting.

I must have carried about 20 pounds of mud back to the trike. A small amount of it finally let go as I scraped on the grass but mostly it just collected dead leaves. Once it had a bit of grass and gravel mixed in, shaking it off helped more than my first attempts. Even so, the cleats were under nearly an inch and half of the gunk. It would need to be scraped away before I could clip back in.

I was at a loss what to use for the task. Finally, I pulled the trike back up closer to the road, easier than it sounds with a few pounds extra weight on my feet. Then I sat down and used a portion of my flag pole to carve away as much as I could.

About 20 minutes later, my cleats made the familiar ‘click’ indicating they were engaging properly. While putting the flag back on my seat, the view to the west gave me pause. A heavy mass of cloud reared up from the west, so dark a gray I almost expected to see lightning split the sky. Hanging from the pendulous underside were veils I most associate with rain. Since it was above freezing, my expectation was that it was rain. And there I was, too lightly dressed for the dry weather. Getting wet could only be a disaster.

There were a few more runestones, but with the potential of rain, I decided my task would have to be finished on another day, another ride. It was time to push for home. And push we did. Well, I pushed, Loke pulled.

Uppland's Runestone #947

Uppland’s Runestone #947

I did make one more stop as I whipped through two quick turns in succession. Seemed silly to pass a runestone sitting right at the road edge. I hurriedly collected, made a U-turn and went down the road spinning like a mad woman.

Our brisk pace came to a crawl thanks to the long hill leading past some sport fields toward rail tracks. The booms were down and lights blinking, the way was clear by the time we made it up.

This stretch of the run was also part of the Sverigeleden. It ambled through a small residential area with a slight upward grade which kept my speed to about 6 mph. A funny incident broke the tedium though. One house had a long stretch of tall, evergreen hedge. Loke, as is his nature, wanted to mark the hedge. So I swerved over to let him do so.

As the furball stuck his nose toward it, an ungodly screeching filled the air as a clump of branches thrashed wildly. Startled, Loke yelped and bound forward several strides, dragging the trike forward.

I laughed. Out of the 100 foot or so of hedge line, I’d managed to find the 2 feet which had apparently hidden a cat. Once over his surprise, Loke was all for heading back to the hissing and yowling coming unseen through the tightly packed needles. I pulled him on.

The road ended at a cycle path which still had signs for the Sverigeleden and we made a bit better time. When a green sign pointed left down an unpaved trail thick with ice and water, I continued straight. By this point, we were under the heavy gray belly of cloud. Then I thought I saw a bit of floating white whip by on the bitter wind. Snow? I prayed that it would be snow.

The path ended at a small street which intersected with a much larger and busier one. If I’d struggled down the path of the Sverigeleden, we would have been able to go under it. Fortunately, the crossing went quickly enough with a handy break in traffic.

Nearly the moment we’d made the crossing, it came. A thick white fall of swirling snow. I laughed in relief. Snow could be unpleasant, but not as much as a near freezing rain. Not to mention I’d forgotten the handlebar bag’s weather cover. Fluffy white stuff would be less likely to reach the camera and iPhone. I took a moment to take a picture of the cycle path with the falling snow. Then, I turned the camera toward Loke, intending to photograph the way the flakes dusted the back of his ears. Just as I pushed the shutter release, Loke’s head whipped toward me, to look at something on the other side of the trike I think.

A Rare Glimpse Into Loke

A Rare Glimpse Into Loke

This has to be one of my absolute favorite images of my beautiful, incredible partner in adventure. Something about the expression I think. The deep glimpse into his eyes without funny angles or the hideous orange tinge the lighting in the apartment gives every photo. It’s not perfect. I could wish the lighting had been a little brighter, better framing of his entire head and heaven knows the scenery is pure eye-sore, but his face makes that less important. I don’t know. I just look at this image and it tugs at me, heart and soul, in some profound way.

My two fave things.. Ice and precipitation. :P

My two fave things.. Ice and precipitation. 😛

At the time, I didn’t know what a precious moment I had just captured. I knew I’d missed his ears and maybe he’d been looking toward the lens, but I put the camera away without checking.

We raced on. I pedaled harder and faster than was wise for my knees. We didn’t set any speed records, but we clipped along at about 10 mph, Loke going at a gentle lope that he can sustain for a couple miles. That first flurry of snow passed but another approached hot on its heels.

Then another. The squalls of snow just kept coming in waves. Occasionally, the sun would briefly touch us through rare breaks in the clouds, but mostly it was heavy gray. It kept changing too. I never knew which sort was going to hit me. A gritty fall, rather like someone had upended a giant salt-shaker could be followed by fluffy feathers. The snow that looked like polystyrene balls before they get pressed into Styrofoam was my least favorite. Even with my tight fitting sunglasses, the hard wind still managed to blow those into my eyes though the glasses stopped the feathers and salt. I suppose I could have fitted the gasket to the lenses, but I just wanted to get home.

Another coming wave of snow

Another coming wave of snow

When we reached the drawbridge, I felt we were at the home stretch though at least 4 more miles lay between us and home. Still, it was a jaunt down along the river path to the heart of Uppsala. Taking the cycle path by the river though town is always fun. We startle so many people with our unusual appearance.

Even Loke was starting to flag a little when we reached home. Personally, I felt like a rag which had been beaten nearly to threads on a river rock, wrung out and tossed in a soggy pile. My knees were saying unkind things about me. It felt so good to stagger up the stairs with 17+ miles through cold wind behind us.

Jens was surprised I’d made it home because on my last check in call, I’d said it looked like rain. Once in the apartment, Loke was bouncing around with his squeaky toy.

While it had frustrating moments, I still counted it as a good ride. I think I’m going to do it again soon though. Try to find at least some of those other stones.

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2 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Great write up, great pictures and what I would consider to be an epic ride.

Comment by Ward

Thank you, Ward. 🙂

Comment by Terii




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