It started the year before, when I noticed that by turning off the Põltsamaa River onto the Nava, you could paddle all the way to Lake Endla. So one day we headed out from Põltsamaa and followed the Nava toward Endla — no preparation done, no homework. What greeted us came as a complete surprise: instead of a lake, there was a vast wall of reeds. We got hopelessly lost, and as evening crept in, the idea of wandering through an endless labyrinth in the dark held no appeal whatsoever. We turned back, defeated — but with a firm promise to ourselves to return. And so we did, this time properly. We studied satellite images, asked around among friends who knew the area, and made sure to set off well ahead of schedule. Even with all that preparation, it was still one heck of an adventure — a real puzzle that kept us on our toes.
Uuesilla parking area beside Piibe highway
This time we started our trip at the Uuesilla parking area along the Piibe highway. The weather was glorious — almost a touch too warm — but out on the water, a cool-down is never far away. Boats in the water, spirits high, and a decent current to carry us along, we made quick progress. A few fallen trees blocked our path here and there, but nothing we couldn't slip past easily enough.
Underwater world seen through the clear river surface
A time-worn caravan slowly being reclaimed by nature
One of the last signs of civilisation before the wilderness begins
The paddling flew by, and our first stop was the campfire spot at Tammemäe hill — a chance to stretch our legs and talk through the plan. We still had nearly 3 kilometres along the Nava River before Endla would open up before us. Interestingly, the Nava once flowed in both directions, but after the level of Endla was lowered, it now flows exclusively toward the lake.
Tammemäe campsite at the junction of three rivers: Nava, Põltsamaa and Vana-vorsti
The Nava River winding through lush greenery
The Nava passed quickly, with everyone's thoughts already at camp. Since the others were all here for the first time, the mood was refreshingly optimistic — how hard could it really be to cross a lake? It's a big lake, after all. But the moment we reached the mouth of the Nava, that endless wall of reeds made its point loud and clear. If the Minotaur were a creature of Estonian myth, he'd make his home in Endla. Paddling through not knowing the way, you can feel a creeping sense of dread — walls of reeds on every side, and some of the banks even shift in the wind, so the maze never looks quite the same twice. This was proven perfectly on the way back the next day: we found a slightly easier route, one that showed signs of previous paddlers passing through — but the final stretch had already closed back in. Two small pools that had once been separated by tussocks had been forced apart to squeeze a boat through, and those tussocks had drifted shut again.
At the mouth of the Nava where Lake Endla begins
Endla is a true adventure. You can lose your paddling companions within just a couple of metres. We spent a lot of time calling out to each other or raising our paddles in the air — sitting low in a kayak, it's nearly impossible to spot someone who's disappeared into reeds towering several times your own height. After about an hour of zigzagging and false starts — and discovering that reading dark satellite images in bright sunlight is no easy feat — we finally made it through. According to Google Maps, we had paddled straight across dry land. But we made it, and we set up camp right on the shore of Endla.
Paddling on the open water of Lake Endla
Heinassaar island visible across the water
Finally arrived at camp on the shores of Endla
Rain set in during the night, and by morning the whole camp was sodden — tents wet on the outside, but everything inside perfectly dry and everyone well rested. The heaviest rain had passed overnight, and we packed up in a light drizzle. By the time we climbed back into the boats, the rain had stopped completely and didn't bother us again for the rest of the trip.
Lake Endla in the quiet calm of a misty morning
Morning light over Lake Endla reflecting in still water
We took a different route back, hoping to find an easier way through. Setting off from the far side of the lake, we managed almost 2 kilometres of open water before the reeds closed in again. The first attempt to break through led us straight into a dead end. We tried a different spot, picked our way half-blind through the reed beds once more, and eventually found a narrow channel. At the end of it, we could just make out a larger stretch of open water through the reeds. Ahead were the same tussocks we'd noted on the way in — someone had already forced a gap between them to push a boat through — and we squeezed through too. Suddenly we were in familiar territory, and before long we were back on the river, after one last wade through the reeds.
The dark tussocks we squeezed the boats through to escape the reed maze
After that, it was simply a matter of paddling to the finish — the Kirikumäe campfire spot, where our cars were waiting. Another adventure wrapped up, another round of farewells, and already looking forward to the next one.
The river thick with aquatic plants that slow the paddle strokes
Every adventure must end — this one at the Kirikumäe campfire spot