Not much to report, except that sunshine was brilliant, visibility was phenomenal, wind was 15 kt against, and the air was cold, about 10 degrees. So here are som pictures of mountains which I hope will entertain. If you squint in the third one, you can just see the Lofoten Wall on the horizon, about 75 Km away. No they are not clouds, they are snow covered mountains.
We are now moored to a buoy in a little bay, in an island group just west of Kjerringøy. After the hustle and bustle of Bodø, I preferred a bit of P&Q, and here it is. As we came in, a heron rose from its fishing spot, and flapped majestically away in front. A little further in, an eagle was disturbed from its tree perch fairly close by and it flapped hurriedly away over the ridge. Then, when Josin was securely attached to the buoy, a cuckoo reckoned we were not a threat, and welcomed us. Magic. The sunshine is very enticing, but the breeze is still very chilly, so an attempt to soak up some sun in the cockpit was quickly over.
You will maybe have noticed that post number 13 is missing. Well, it got written yesterday evening after a long day’s fixing, had a beautiful sunny picture of Bodø in the late sunlight, and I thought I had published it, but no, it just somehow disappeared. Frustrating. I will continue to try and find it, and send it. Or re-write it.
Still trying to get the AIS and MarineTraffic to work. Not sure what to try next.
It appears that these tracking Apps are not all equally effective. Following a tipoff, I installed MyShipTracking this morning, and it found Josin immediately. MarineTraffic still not finding us. In future I will monitor both Apps and compare.
Meanwhile, the sun is trying to break through the clouds, and hopefully dry us out. Then install antenne properly, then go. (Oops, fill diesel, then go). North. Kjerringøy neste?
Its been a grey day, wet at times, blowing all the time, so the hood on the anorak wouldn’t stay put. Nevertheless……
Where to start the hunt? Much googling had turned up several possibilities, but the most promising being the actual Coastal Radio North offices here in Bodø. They would surely know. It took several circuits of a very large modern building to find the right entrance. Help from a native had pointed one out to me with a lift, and “one of the upper floors”. Into the lift. Read list, 6th floor, easy! Push button for floor 6. No movement. Try again. No. Voice operated? Try. Still no. (Have you seen the Youtube video of the two well-accented Scots in a voice-operated lift? Priceless!). Then I noticed a numberkeypad. Obviously only for the initiated. Outside again. New circuit. Another, more helpful,, showed me. Correct. Lift, friendly this time. 6th floor, correct offices. Door locked. Ring mobile number. “I’m at the door, can I come in”. (She showed me where the doorbell button was, on the other wall). Cringe.
“I have VHF problems, (explanation, head nods), and I’m looking for an expert who can find them, whom could you recommend?” Very tall man appears, with nearly empty, brown coated, coffeecup. “Here is your man, Radio Inspection Himself”. New explanations, questions, answers. Arnold says “Well, I could come and have a look myself, but I cannot do any sort of repair work, not my job”. Wow! Yes please!! Office. Details, of boat, VHF, calling sign, antenne configuration. Picks up a small case and marches out to lift and car. Thankyou, in the rain.
Josin is Ok for my height, 1,8 m, but Arnold had to bend. Setup explained. Arnold opens case, places an instrument on the table and connects wires to Josin’s antenna wires. Pushes buttons. “Not much here”. More button pushing. Test VHF conversation with the nice voice on the 6th floor. “Very strong signal here in the harbour, don’t really need an antenne”. More tests, with distant transmitters up the coast. Deadly silence. Simple conclusion: Mast antenne’s connection probably wet, partial short circuit.
Test the reserve antenne on the pushpit, aft. Nothing. Josin is now officially antenne-less. So: Where can I buy a new one? “Electro, its on my way”. Amazing service. And then he gave me two Coastal Radio mugs.
(I sincerely regretted not having brewed a thermos earlier). “No thanks, I’d better get on”. Having dropped me off he headed back towards town.” On my way”, indeed! Kindness itself. Thankyou Arnold!
Electro, Kenneth, equally helpful, piled antenne-things onto the counter. Very posh and comprehensive. Unfortunately it was not compatible with what is already on the boat, so we regretfully had to agree that it was a no-sale, so far. If I couldn’t source something compatible, I’ll be back. “OK. Any time, here’s my card”.
Electro is a good step out of town. My Apple watch indicates I have walked 6,9 Km today. Yes probably, and it was windy, anorak hood uncooperative, and rainy. Very good exercise though. Back to the other shop, which didn’t have a suitable fender on saturday. But it did have a very suitable antenne, with a very long lead on it. Bingo! Wave plastic. Back to boat. Retire, rather weary, for a dry-out and coffee and lunch.
Mounted new antenne on pushpit bracket, routed the cable temporarily through the hatch and connected up. Test. – Coast radio north, coast radio north, this is Josin, Josin, on channel 16. “Loud and clear”. – Thankyou. Josin out. Phew! At least Josin is now legal, but with a reduced range, due to the low placement of the antenne. Not looking forward to re-routing the cable. Need to empty the cockpit lockers, and descend and squirm and twist and reach. And then get out again. Knees permitting. Rain must stop first. Thankful pause.
But our position via AIS on MarineTraffic does not show. Gnashing of teeth. Must be another problem. Another day.
Yesterday was a fantastic sun-and-warmth day. Lots of relaxed people about, lightly clothed, stroller-pushing, wandering gently to the other end of the pier and back, pavement restaurants and cafés doing a great trade.
Me? I went for a fender-hunt. Yesterday’s post about disasters wasn’t quite complete. It started earlier! I was almost too embarrassed to admit to leaving the taking-in of fenders until we were well out in the wind-against-current choppy waves, (my feeble excuse is that I was trying to keep out of the way of the high-speed ferry and the normal ferry at the same time), and when I finally went forward, there the fender wasn’t.
But first the good news. Priority after breakfast was the cabin heater. Gained access by emptying the port cockpit locker, where it is in-accessibly placed (for a many-year-old with two artificial knees) up under the gunwhale. Thinks. Do I really need to dismantle the thing? Could at least try one start, couldn’t I? with my ear placed as close as possible to analyse any strange noises. Press start button. Hasten to uncomfortable listening position. Wait. Normal noises only. Still only normal noises. Up to full speed and still only normal noises. Hurra! Let it run for a while, then stop. Waited half an hour. Press start. Only normal noises again. Hurra again! I cease to speculate upon what had caused the original problem, and optimistically conclude that it has gone away and won’t happen again.
Fender hunt: There are several boat-things places here in Bodø, one south of the harbour, fairly close, and the others north. I started south, walking, with sticks for better speed and endurance. “Fenders? Yes sir, over here on the wall, our large selection, which one would suit your need?”. Except, of course, not the size I have standardised on. Bad luck. Change direction to north. Walk, with sticks. Retrace steps. Onward, through the shopping center, past and then into, an aromatic bakery with five (!) different sorts of sourdough bread. Bought the brownest. Onward, past the somnolent railway station, and the even more silent Hurtigruten (coastal steamer) quay. Then at last, at least several Km later, or so it seemed in the bright sunshine, arrived at an anonymous building with several camper vans outside. Well the building’s name did also include the word “boat”, so this must be it. One elderly gent, specs perched on the end of his adequate nose, half asleep behind the desk and his computer screen. Immediate attention at the sound of the door bing-bong. Fenders? Shelves of them, in a small department for boating things. Camper vans do not need fenders, do they? Found what measured to be approximately the right size, but in deflated shape. “Just a minute Sir, I’ll start the compressor”. Due to the air nozzle being a poor fit, most of the air escaped with intense whistles and squeaks, but in the end, “There we are Sir, right size? This what you are looking for?” Perfect thankyou! Wave plastic. Er, du you have a piece of string? I had foreseen that walking with sticks would make carrying a substantial fender difficult, so I had taken my backpack along. Small backpack, large fender. Several pieces of string and secure knots later, thankyou to a most helpful storekeeper, I returned to the town, gathering amused glances, along the several Km.
Past that bakery again. Ah! I surely deserved a coffee and a sticky bun. Most enjoyable. Then back through the shopping center, more amused glances, to the boat. Subsided into welcoming Josin’s cockpit, undid and cut string, and hung up new fender in old position. Re-load everything back into locker. Mission accomplished! Relax for most of the rest of the day.
But today is the stark contrast from yesterday. Rain, the very wet sort, low cloud, little wind, 11 degrees. An indoor day. After breakfast, with extra coffee, write blog. Sorry, no pictures.
Not much to tell. Some motoring, some sailing, under very variable conditions. Wind mainly from an easterly direction, but with all these mountains in the way, what reached us was not what was forecast, but only to be expected. Forecasters cannot possibly predict for very local conditions.
One entertainment was paralleling a fishing boat on its way home, fisherman busy gutting fish and throwing the result overboard. Gulls, squawking, competing, hundreds of them. Long line aft of overgorged gulls, unwilling to fly, or just given up.
Bodø harbour very full. Found a just-Josin-sized spot right in under the harbour wall, next to the gangway, which creaks and groans with every disturbance. Earplugs good.
But…. How long is a day? In my previous missives I have occasionally had a “disaster of the day” feature. I hereby resurrect it, and allow a day to be at least 24 hours. During yesterday, everything VHF finally went quiet. Earlier symptoms turned to sickness. Must find help, but this being saturday, I shall have to wait until monday. UncleInternet found several possibilities. Then in the evening, my cooker needed several goes to start, emitting smelly grey fumes. Dinner was delayed. Then this morning, a habitual first-thing-to-do turning-on of the cabin heater resulted in lovely warmth for a few minutes, then a nasty scraping noise, (probably from a fan), and shutdown. Repair? Replace? Oh dear.
I think we shall be remaining in Bodø for several, rather expensive, days.
I wish I could sign off with the usual phrase, but no, all is not well!
The north wind was still blowing when I woke up, but the forecast was for a change later to south east, which would suit us fine, so I took it easy. The upper clouds were going in the right direction, and at about 10 o’clock, I hoped that a half hour’s motoring to get out into the broad fjord would time it right. Sure did! There it was, south east, and blowing well. Up sails and engine off. One and a half hours of max speed and bouncy waves, before someone suddenly turned the wind off. The cause? Yes, wave formations:
Those sausage-clouds are at right angles to the wind direction, being caused by enormous ripples in the wind streaming off the mountains, the top of each ripple forming a sausage-cloud. Where the ripple hits the water, there is lots of wind. At the top of the ripple there is little wind at sea level. So, sails in and engine on. Then sails out and engine off. Three times! Then it all went quiet, the sun came out, and we motored the rest of the way.
Tried to take pictures of the mountains with the “Black Ice” glacier in the background:
Not very successful, water a bitt choppy, difficult to hold the camera still. Use a bit of imagination perhaps?
We did potter past a small island with an eagle on top. Attempts at photographing were comical. Camera not immediately to hand. The blob in the middle is the eagle at the bottom of its wing stroke. See it?
Probably not. Shortly after that excitement we pottered into Støtt, again the only visitor. Veeery quiet. Nobody around, until the coastal steamer arrived, then two bods appeared to help unload, one very energetic with the forklift truck. Steamer departs. Life goes quiet again. The sun was gloriously warm, and I think I may have got a bit sunburned, sitting in the cockpit and reading Naomi Klein.
Bodø tomorrow? Maybe a sailing wind to waft us there.
A traditional trading center, now a salmon smokery and local shop. Popular place in the season. Recently upgraded pontoons and facilities.
the old quayside
Overview of the trading center and smokery. Hestmonna mountain in the background. The top is a narrow ridge, very impressive, tall and vertical, if you look at it «sideways».
A lonely Josin
You can just see the Lion of Rødøy in the background, well just his head, about 10 km away. Very good restaurant there in season. Turned out to be a sunny day today, but still too windy and chilly to carry on. Forecast for tomorrow is much more promising.
A late start from Vegstein when the wind turned roughly south, but not enough to sail, therefore motoring north through the myriard of islands, large, small, and very small. Legend has it that the gods who created the mountains hereabouts, got there hands all crumbly, and when they dusted them off, all these islands were created. Enough of them anyway. Charming story. Navigation is easy with well-placed posts and markers and lanterns. No traffic, except for the odd ferry plodding its rutine way from here to there.
Landscape here is both huge and magnificent, with “The Seven Sisters” dominating. Even clearer relief with the rest of snow decorating.
Then into the lagoon at Hjartøya, a very well-sheltered spot. (66 00.5 / 012 24.9). One boat tied up at the very small jetty near the entry, its crew busily ashore with a smoky grill. Further in, at the anchoring area, a hindrance to sea room. Another small floating pontoon tied with thick bluegreen ropes to both sides of the bay, with no indication of how deep they were in the middle. So, increase speed, stop engine and gear into neutral, hoping it will fold to minimum shape. Over the sunken ropes and no contact. Phew! Drop anchor, ensure good hold and take an evening, it now being nearly 9.
After a calm night, with no disturbances or large wind changes, we headed to Sandnessjøen, a couple of hours away, to, yes, again, fill up with diesel. But also, much more interesting, just over the square from the guest pontoon, is a very active fish shop. Hot fishcakes for lunch and a succulent slice of halibut for dinner later. Yum.
Then on again, this time with a sailing breeze on the quarter! Lasted all of two hours, before getting confused by the mountains and retiring, useless. Stow sails, with a sigh. The day had started quite warm and fairly sunny, but was now gradually deteriorating, obviously a front on its way in from the west. Got chilly-er, and wetter, with that sort of rain which isn’t really visible, but nevertheless penetrating. On with all-weather clothes with wool under. Better now.
The countryside hereabouts is very vertigal in a bumpy sort of way, with many small communities on the flat bits at the edges, all of them with harbours og course, and some of them with guest facilities. On our way we diverted a bit and took a peek into a few to see if they were suitable as a Plan B harbour. Promising, but without contact with the locals, busy elsewhere.
Onwards and wndy-er, head wind of course, until the “milestone” of The Arctic Circle, at 66 33,5 N, passed at 17:48, just before arriving thankfully at sheltered Selsøyvik, (66 34.5 / 12 58.8). Hurried tie-up and erection of the cockpit tent, (first time this season), to keep the elements at bay. Hunker down. Shore power on. Heater on. OK.
Quiet night, no disturbances. The season hasn’t started yet! Wind still northerly and too much to battle against, so stay put here for the day. Halibut for dinner, as I was a bit too weary yesterday to prepare it.
No pictures unfortunately, too dark and cloudy, and/or rainy, to risk cameras.
I have now numbered all posts from 2020. This is number 5. This is to try and “hide” previous years posts, and cocentrate on this year’s. If there is someone helpful out there who knows of a better way, I’d be glad to hear of it.
Rørvik, yes, we were there for two days waiting for the weather to change. Low cloud, rain at times, wind and chilly. Reading time.
Friday 29th forecast was promising in a lugubrious sort of way, so preparations were completed so we could set off as soon as the very-low cloud lifted and we could see where we were going. Several times. Mid-morning coffee. Lunch. Tea. Then I could see the hills on the other side of the fjord, so we set off. Visibility about a mile. After an hour or so, cloud base descended, getting too close to fog for comfort, so Plan B, Lerøya, (64 58.8 / 011 31.8), been there before, a natural place to anchor. Anchor held well in very thick seaweed and sand. (Played plough/harrow when hauling!).
Next morning dawned grey, slowly changing to blue, but calm, so set off towards Vega, motor all the way with just the occasional help from the foresail, quickly un-rolled, and reluctantly furled. Visibility was fairly good, so an attempt was made to show the magnificence of the mountains, still with some snow to provide contrast:
We passed Torghatten, the mountain with a hole through it, and then in to Brønnøysund, for a last food shopping before the long weekend, just before the shops shut, early of course. Lots of cabin cruisers, all lined up side-by-side, enjoying the sunshine and (probably) beer. Happy hour, at least.
More strange formations, appearing in the light and shadow.
Another three hours to Vegstein, (65 41.2 / 012 01.7), who welcomed me in and took ropes. Been here several times before, very friendly, local dialect not of the easiest, but marvellous humour.
Then came summer warmth, here north as well as there, down south. (Impressive pics in the media of gaggles(?), herds(?) of boats out for the first time this season).
Sometimes there is a bonus to having to get up in the middle of the night: 1:30. Dead calm. No sound. Looking due north. Midnight sun soon?
There followed two days of relaxing and boat things fixing, (I found the little leak), and one night of 13 hours sleep. Must have needed it! Apparently I slept through late-night rushings around by two noisy skidoos.
Should have taken a pic of the extraordinary clarity of the water, but forgot. In spite of being encouraged by others who enjoyed a dip, I still cannot brace myself for 12 degrees cold water.
Josin's 2025 cruise 