Month: July 2019

Via Stjørdal til Ålesund

Monday 22. July we sailed, yes, sailed, to Stjørdal, about 15 nm east of T’heim, there to investigate the possibility of storing Josin for the winter. Several have pointed out the sound logic of starting a season from somewhere half way up Norway, instead of stating from the Oslo Fjord, in order to spend more time in the interesting bits. So, Stjørdal, highly recommended by Kevin, an English sailor, who winters his boat there for a similar reason, but much further, from the south coast of England, for him.

Stjørdal is well inland, protected from the coastal storms, has a railway station, and is right next door to Værnes airport. The marina houses at several hundred boats, and has many there in the winter. Very little ice. Unfortunately most of the club’s officials were on holiday, but one told me to send a query by email, done, and it will be evaluated soon. Hope so.

Waiting there for a decision might take longer than comfortable so we have headed south, to Ålesund, still in time to get home comfortably, or return to Stjørdal.

First stop, (sailed most of the way), was Stadsbygd, a small town opposite T’heim on the SW corner of Fosen, where there is a splendid old and new museum of old boats and an active boatbuilder, within easy cycling distanse of the harbour at Rødberg. Hanging in the main hall were the four trad boats tested, as previously described, at T’heim university. Very interesting to be able to see the slight differences in underwater shapes which had given these boats their special characteristics and advantages.

Then the anticyclone established itself over the area giving very warm temperatures and absolutely no wind. So motoring. First to Laksåvik south on Hitra, then south through the islands, to and round Averøya, SW from Kristiansund, where I saw:

a perfect example of the Norwegian phrase for ranges of mountains marching in reducing shades of blue, into the distance.

Past the marmor quarry, vast in its consumption of a mountainside:

to a pontoon just by, in Vikabukta, for the night. Next morning, in strong sunlight and crystal clear, though chilly, water, I dived to inspect things. Hull and propeller amazingly clean, but oh dear, the anti-corrosion anodes on the propeller hub were either loose or not there. (I’d heard slightly strange noises, but hadn’t placed them). Managed to tighten the loose ones before dropping the tool, too deep to retrieve. (Yes, i had it on a string, but the knot loosened!) So, an urgent email order to my friendly supplier Seatronic, who expeditely despatched a set in the post, to Ålesund.

Then motored on past Hustvika in almost flat calm seas, (that’s a first!), to friendly Tornes for the night, and a session in the laundry. Then on to Ålesund, with the genoa optimistically hoisted in the weak breeze from the NW. Under the bridge and into Aspevågen, on the south side of the peninsular, to Ålesund Sailing club’s marina in Nørevika, past this: Absolutely grotesk!

Yesterday was spent on buses and bicycle trying to find a place here in Ålesund who could lift the boat out. Place found, but operators on holiday. Please ring again tomorrow. Will do, but maybe the anodes will not have arrived yet. The days go by.

It’s raining. The gentle wet sort, from a low, grey sky. Good time to write blog, do maintenance, tidy boat, read a book.

Alls well.

So many boats, so many people, such fantastic weather, so many smiling faces. Must have been a success. To describe the event and scene would be impossible, but a few pictures might help.

The flotilla arrives:

Just a few of these marvels of traditional craftmanship:

A number, of highly variable size, took part in a regatta, which was a bit of a flop because the wind would not cooperate:

Maybe what it should have been like. How to use a square-rigged sail to sail close-hauled. Amazing!

And then there were the craftsmen, wood in the limelight. How to make a plank out of a treetrunk, split in half first, just with an axe and persistent patience:

Then built into a shed, no nails or screws, just ingenuity, craftily placed notches, and muscle: (And a few wooden pegs, mostly hidden).

And a product of someone’s, (probably a father’s), imagination and devotion. Ever seen a rockingboat before? Not sure about the rocking”horse” though, difficult to ride astride.

There was music, of varying quality and sort, played with energy and enthusiasm, mostly on the loud side, (thank goodness for hearing aids which can be dampening), some of it very foot-tapping.

And talks. One boat-enthusiat professor had tested four trad boats in the very advanced and sophisticated test tank here at the university, with scientifically analysed results. Significant differences were found: A best one for sailing, and a best one for rowing. I’m sure the builders would have nodded agreement, had they known.

Weather now hot, with sailing winds, what could be better!

Alls well.

Summer! I’ve found it at last! Or perhaps it has found me. Today is wednesday, 17 july, and will be noted in the logbook as the first, whole, really warm day, a proper shorts day, since we left Åsgårdstrand nearly two months ago. Sitting in the sunshine in cockpit to write this, squinting a bit at the screen. Sorry to rattle on, boring for all you sun-tanned folks.

Met up with John Magnus and Mariell for a succulent Italian dinner the first evening here. Good to hear how they are getting on after setting up living together a couple of months ago. A very happy couple and a joy to be with. Mariell on tenter-hooks waiting to hear if she has got a university place.

Got to Trondheim last sunday, after quite a decent genakker-sail for some of the way, otherwise little wind and motoring, from Storfosna, a large lagoon in an island, and a well-protected harbour at the north end. Met and chatted at length with a couple on an English sailboat, who are equally enamoured of the coast up in these parts. Keep their boat in Stjørdal, in the Trondheimfjord, in the recent winters, having got fed up with the long haul from and to Cowes, on England’s south coast. Something to think about, eh?

Trondheim is “summer-busy”. Lots of tourists, including the hoards from a gigantic cruise ship. No less than 12 decks with cabins with a balcony. Really a floating, horizontal block of flats. It has just blown its shattering horn, to urge the folks back before leaving.

Had to take a long-zoom picture of a crew member busy at the bottom of the funnel. He was feverishly painting it, or at least the bits that he could reach with a long-handled roller. (Note non-energetic passengers soaking up the sun)

Trondheim has very effective public transport, one tram-line and many bus routes. Getting about is easy when you know how. All info, comprehensive, about routes, timetables and stops, via mobile phone. But is still possible to miss a bus, or go the wrong way. Done that. Trondheim has also tried hard to provide cycle-tracks and pedestrian walkways, well used, but also by these new-fangled electric scooters. Woe betide those who walk and wander!

Tomorrow is the start of the Coastal Society’s gathering, and quite a few traditional boats have already arrived. (I am one of the few in a “tuppeware” boat). Trondheim is a popular place for such an event, being sort of half way between north and south. Local motor-boaties react in various ways when told that they have to move in the morning. Notices everywhere announcing the event, but a notice can be studiously ignored, yes? Feverish activity down along the main quayside with tents and booths going up. One being built of a kit of tree trunks, (with numbered and interlocking ends, no nails, screws or pegs!). The weather promises to be just fine, so it ought to be a memorable event.

Alls well.

Started a bit late in the hopes that the weather would clear. It did, when we were half way to Straumen, on the island of Smøla. The wind changed and was now from a direction which would sail us to Grip, a small island community just a few miles offshore. Marvellous view of the “six sisters” on the way. About turn. Hoist sails and enjoy.

Grip, like many other similar places, was a fishing community which gradually turned into a holiday-homes community, with still a fishing boat or two. Very small harbour, with the guest pontoon occupied by a cabin cruiser which, judging by the green slime on its ropes, had been there a while. So we rafted up on Steve Cooling, who had to give up his place to a fishing boat later.

Just time for a quick wander round and a visit to the museum, the yellow building. Walls covered in old photos of fishy activities, and explanations of a way of life of yesteryear.

Then the “bus” arrived, with sunday tourists, amid a cloud of loudly complaining kittiwakes, disturbed from their nests in the truck-tyre fenders hanging from the quayside.

After enjoying the spectacle, we left, and sailed back to our original destination, Straumen. Very quiet on a sunday evening. Next day was not good, so we stayed, slept a lot, before an early start on tuesday, 06:00, in the hope of getting somewhere before the wind became contrary and strong. Much careful navigating through the islands and rocks to Hopen, a larger community on Smøla.

And then a surprise: A strange sculpture in two bits. An explanatary notice. The father of the Norwegian Sea Rescue Society, (Redningsselskapet), Tybring, who after tireless efforts over many years, managed to club together enough sponsors to establish the society, and then build the first vessel, “Colin Archer”, whose achievements are legion. “Colin”, (colloquial), is still very much alive and active today, and in good hands.

Hopen wasn’t exactly buzzing, but there were notices about Veiholmen, which apparently was, a few nm further north. So, more embroidery-navigation, for motor, and we were there. Houses all higgeldy-piggeldy with some asphalt and mostly grass in between. Much larger harbour with many boats, including active fishing boats. Also here were most of the houses holiday homes, well cared for. Lots of children, including an energetic few kicking a football around, and in the end, into the harbour. The rescue operation was enthralling. No one fell in though. Pity.

One of the larger buildings, the newly-restored Veiholmen Brygge, with very new restaurant, serving only pizza until friday, when the chef arrives. Good pizza.

Again an early start, 06:00, to beat the forecast increasing wind later, but the opposite happened. A circular route out around the north collection of rocks and islands led to open water, to be met by more than enough wind to scoot us along under full sail, and more than enough very choppy seas, to make breakfast uncomfortable. Then, after an hour or so of bash and splash, the wind gradually subsided until practically nothing, leaving just the choppy seas. Motor again, into the main Trondheims Leia, a long, broad sound, with the gradually increasing wind on the nose, to Laksåvika, on the south side of Hitra. A small anchorage, well protected from the chilly northeasterly. And, praise be, the sun burned away the low stratus clouds and the temperature shot up to 18. I could at last lounge in the cockpit and expose the skin to the sun’s healing rays, and generate some vitamin D. First this summer, HA! Water temperature is sill only 13. No bathing, not even a shattering in-and-out dip.

Alls well

Ålesund is a fine town, lots to see and do, rather if it isn’t raining. While we were there, it rained, at sometime every day, and blew, mostly from the directions which caused waves into the guest harbour. Josin pitched. Strange to be rocked to sleep. We visited the places to be visited, and read of the history of the town and its thrifty inhabitants. It was also interesting to read the Norwegian side of the stories of the Shetland Bus, of all the “bus stops”, and the people and equipment brought in. And of the losses. Many, in the service of their country.

Sunday was a tidying and packing day for Margaret, who left the day after. We had discussed and decided that Bergen was a better place inn the rain to visit than more/same of Ålesund, so she spent her last two days in Bergen or thereabouts.

As we agreed that this would almost certainly be the last time she would be on Josin, a ceremonial discarding of her old wet-weather gear was in order:

Pity you can’t hear the plaintive wail of sadness, (or good riddance in another guise), as the garments were stuffed through the hole, never to be seen again.

Of course, the weather changed gradually for the better after Margaret left, (that sounds a bit equivocal), and on thursday, 4th July, I woke to bright sunshine and a plausible sailing wind, in the right direction! So I left, and yes, we sailed all the way to Tornes. 45 nm. It rained in squalls, short and sharp, with windgusts to match, (had to pay attention), the rain being so intense that it flattened the sea. Unusual. Strange and large amount of water on the floor, and in a nearly-full bilge. But it was fresh, not salt, thanks be…. Eventually traced to the cockpit shower handle fouling the housing and leaking into who-knows-where and into the cabin. A whole tankful. The surprises of boating!

Tried for an early start next morning, but missed. Away before 9 nevertheless, to a dying northwesterly wind which didn’t quite manage to blow us over the nasty stretch of Hustavik. Several wave systems causing uncomfortable, coffee-spilling seas, and moving Josin around so that the sails would not stabilise. Motor. Towards the western end, there is an opening between the islands to go into the fjords, under a bridge in the Atlantic Coastal Roadway, and wanting to drink the rest of my coffee, turned sharp to starboard. Amazing contrast, flat water and a fine sailing breeze. P & Q, and coffee. Magnificent scenery. Huge steep mountains with small green farms at their feet. One mountainside deeply scarred by an enormous quarry, and piles of stone and rubble. Tiny, toy-sized, bright yellow machines crawling about. A beautiful bridge, (well, in the eyes of this engineer), spanning a large gap between two mountains:

Then into the last stretch to Kristiansund, to be “blocked” by this oil drilling rigg, resting I suppose, and its attendant supply boats. The red one with the teeth politely shooed us away when we inquisitively approached.

Kristainsund and proud of its fish industry, managed to produce some mediochre fish-and-chips to end another long day.

Today, saturday, sunshine and a blustery 20 kt northeastly wind, too much on the nose to try and sail it. Boat maintenance. Some shopping. A long visit in the sunshine to the culture centre, “Mellomværftet”, for traditional boats. All fascinating. Listened to boating yarns told by grey-haired salts around the coffee table in the lee of the workshop.

Reading Steven Hawkins’ latest. Mind-boggling. Difficult. Expanding.

Alls well.