Month: July 2020

Again a late-ish start, waiting on the weather, which cleared up at lunchtime and left a good easterly wind. I decided to leave just before the ferry did the same, quite unplanned, but interesting, as he followed us out of the harbour, towering above Josin. As soon as there was searoom I changed course 20 degrees to starboard and held out my right arm. Was rewarded with a very short and friendly toot before he churned away, leaving us bobbing.

So, wind on the port quarter, fairly strong at 15 – 20 kts. Unroll genua, sheet in, stop engine and enjoy good speed. And rolling. Wind had managed to whip up waves. Coffee had to wait. Managed to sail round the west side of Leka, almost all the way to a little, tucked away bay sheltered from the wind, which we had visited many years go, Sjøvik. (65 04.6 / 011 22.2). On the way there were sights of rock of many colours and shapes: Leka is renowned.

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Last time we were here, we were invited ashore by a welcoming lady and her daughter in one of the cottages, bearing just-caught fish, and astonishingly took us for a round-the-island sightseeing tour:

Took lots of pictures on that trip and promised to send copies of some of them when I got back home. Alas, the address had disappeared, and I’d forgotten the name.

There was no one around when we arrived and tied up to a handy pontoon, so I walked to the cottage in the middle, where a couple were enjoying the sunshine and a sundowner. They assured me that it would be quite alright to stay there. Chatting historically revealed that they were the next generation of cottage owners, and that the one next door, which was the one with which I had had contact previously, was also now owned by the next generation, and I was given a name, the daughter, who lived now on the south coast, maybe Grimstad. Must research this when I get home, and maybe at last deliver the pictures, twenty years late. (Hope I can find them!).

Sjøvik is now the base for a fish-farming operation, and one of their vessels, a very functional work-catamaran, was tied up, and all sorts of new equipment was “stored”, also on the pontoon. Immensely strong stuff this. Shoe for comparison:

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In late evening the other vessel returned and tied up alongside the first. I asked if it was OK that we stayed where we were and was told No Worries in the local dialect, with the offer of freshly-caught fish. Yes please! Guy came with a plastic bag of fillets of saith, which half-filled my bucket. “Need that much”, and a friendly good night. So I will be eating fish for dinner for a while. Amazing!

Next stop Rørvik, when the weather clears a bit. Alls well.

After a thursday of rain and wind, continuing into friday morning, a gradual clearance permitted an afternoon’s engine-running to Vegstein on Vega. Met by good friend Britt on the pontoon, at the end of which was one of these large, inflatable arches, purple in colour, marking a kayakking event the next day. (Thought it was a bit much just for me!).

Disturbed from my slumbers next morning by much activity on the pontoon, which culminated in flag waving and horn blowing to send off three female kayakkers who were going to paddle all the way round the island. No time for another zizz before the procedure was repeated to send three male kayakkers off on their round-the-island paddle. Not the best of weather, it being overcast and almost drizzling. Dedicated these paddlers, expected time, between six and seven hours. There was to be much kayak activity during the day, but I didn’t see it, being elsewhere.

Elsewhere being primarily a visit to the World Heritage Center. A very functional wooden building housing exhibits, film, walls and placards of photographs and text of the history of Vega. Very well presented and comprehensive. Felt quite replete. Later a visit to one of the more prosperous farms on Vega, this one primarily for pigs, and the produce therefrom, including several sorts of cured sausage. I bought the one with seaweed seasoning, after a visit to the cafe and consumption of the speciality carrot cake with a coffee.

Next morning dawned much better. The sun shone and the breeze wafted gently. Forecast was for a strong change in wind strength and direction in the late afternoon so I left at lunchtime, after having met Britt’s daughter and family who arrived for a visit in a rapid aluminium whizzer.

We sailed half of the way to Brønnøysund, until we met the change, much earlier than expected, after which it was splash and bash into the wind and waves. Brønnøysund proudly boasts that it is halfway in Norway: And has some interesting “maritime”sculptures here and there.

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Next day it was still blowing hard the wrong way until late afternoon, the wind suddenly dying, so we set off south again. Past the famous Trollhatten mountain, (looks like a hat from afar), with it’s enormous hole right through it. Took these pictures to show the shape, but our course did not go where the hole was visible. (It is roughly in the middle).

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Motored all the way to Vennesund, stretching the day. Got in at 20:50. Small harbour with a monstrous barge in the middle. Maybe for dredging and/or piling. The ferry occupied most of the rest of space. Quick dinner, then bed.

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Hopefully more sailing wind tomorrow. Alls well.

Yesterday I received a message from Telenor, my telephone and internet provider, that I “had used up all my data, and that I could buy more via Telenor’s app”. Bother. What it didn’t say was that communication was also stopped. Communication was needed to access the app………. You’ve guessed it…………… A helpful man in the phone department in the Power shop here in Sandnessjøen just now, after several telephone calls, managed to sort things out, and I am now back in the land of the digital living. I didn’t like that experience!

Back to boating. Rødøy, Klokkergården. If you order it, a loaf of fresh bread is delivered to your boat at breakfast time. Still warm, very healthy sort of bread, and quite irresistible. Nearly half of it disappeared in no time.

Studying the various weather forecasts for forthcoming winds enabled a plot: Motorsail out to Myken, and then, next day, sail all the way to Sandnessjøen. It nearly worked. To prepare for more active sailing, and as the pontoon at Rødøy was spacious and clean, I took off the smallish jib, and hoisted the much larger genua instead. (Folding and sacking sails needs floorspace). Generously helped by xxxx. Much easier with two.

There was less than forecast wind out to Myken, but we did sail some of the way. On Myken is an automatic weather station, including this rather strange apparatus:

I think the whirligig on the right houses a rain-measuring device in the middle, which you can’t see. The blades hanging from the top rail made a sad rustling sound in the wind. You can just see in the distance the mountains on the mainland. A recent and strange development on Myken is a distillery. Yes, a distillery! It certainly seemed to attract visitors. A peep into the shed revealed a long table with customers seated on long benches with multiple small glasses with light brown fluids in front of them. An articulate lady at the head presumably explaining the different sorts. I couldn’t hear what she was saying so I retreated, quietly. So that was why there was no one around in the harbour!

The evening, about ten, produced some interesting light-effects. A rainstorm which scudded past the harbour, leaving shredded clouds:

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Woke early next morning and checked the wind forecasts. Yes, the same message as yesterday, good. Hurry the morning routine, including two thermoses, and sandwiches, and then away, glorious morning. Out the narrow channel into the open sea, to find rather less wind than expected and rather more, rather confused waves. That combination was frustrating as the boat motion confused the sails, and progress was near zero. So, on with the engine and hope for better conditions, which didn’t appear until we were sheltered from the waves. An interesting sight on the horizon though: They’ve all got names of course.

At last I could hoist the mainsail and the genakker and we cruised along at a respectable speed. Autopilot working well and I could relax and enjoy the ride. I’ve been asked to somehow show where we’ve been, so here is the route from Myken to Sandnessjøen. (I really wanted to show the track, but somehow it disappeared. I’ll do better next time).

47 nautical miles, (about 85 km), and about 9 hours. We started sailing at about point 7, so about half of the way. Better than nothing. The last stretch in to Sandnessjøen was enhanced by the impressive sight of one of Norway’s proud TallShips, the “Christian Radich”, now used as both a training and a cruise ship. Doesn’t hoist it’s sails until out in open water!

The other “little” sailing boat in the picture is a 45 footer, which came in to the harbour just after us. Give you size-perspective.

Today it is blowing hard, in the right direction, but also raining enough to stay put. (Apart from needing to sorting out the data-poggle). Few setting out braving the elements, but a few bedraggled arrivals. My heater is going nicely, so I am warm and dry. Fresh fish for dinner, from the fish shop opposite the harbour, halibut. Yum!

Alls well!

Departure from Bliksvær was significantly delayed. Engine startup produced hiccupping and coughing noises, and not much go. Filter blockage probably. So, changed both the primary and the secondary. Both difficult to get at, of course. Normally a routine job every autumn at lay-up time. Either I forgot last autumn, or I have filled up with some very dirty fuel. Anyway, after spilling the absolute minimum of fuel, caught in rags and a breakfast cereal bowl, (only thing small enough to fit under the filter), and priming with squeegy pump, the engine burst into its normal song. Maybe a task for the winter is designing a non-dripping, filter-changer device. Breakfast museli with diesel aroma is not the best.

So, we didn’t get to Støtt, too far after the late start, so we stopped at Sørfugleøy, (67 03.1 /013 46.5) instead. No sailing wind. Small guest pontoon, space for four boats, Josin, fifth, at the end. Amusing entertainment on the way was to watch a gull dive-bombing an eagle sitting on the top of a small island. Each time the gull dived past, the eagle did a two-flap-hopp almost into the air. Again and again and again, until I was too far off to see. Why didn’t the eagle just stay calm, instead of reacting? The gull was never closer than half a meter.

Sørfugleøy has some very impressive mountain formations, difficult to photograph. Several hundred vertigal meters, and some amazing tops.

Morning “dawned” calm and sunny, (well, about 6), and I was tempted to have a dip and inspect the propeller. Down the ladder as far as my knees, no, too cold. No further. No prop inspection. Hot shower instead.

Sunshine didn’t last long, clouds thickened and lowered and started to leak. Any wind was much on the nose, so motored all the way, trying to keep dry by huddling under the sprayhood. Past Støtt and its restaurant, to Rødøy, to Klokkergården, where there is another restaurant, where I have just had a very enjoyable fishy dinner. Chefs artistry and exquisite tastes. Very busy restaurant, and well deserved.

Tomorrow? Need to sniff the weather in the morning and judge the forecast before deciding.

Alls well

A lightly drizzly rainy day was suitable for tourism. Norsk Luftfarts Museum, (Norwegian Aeronautical Museum), is in a magnificent building close to the north end of Bodø Airport’s runway, absolutely stacked with exhibits and information, both about what has happened in the air since about 1910, but also associated ground activities, specially during WW2.

Early aviation, here in Norway same as everywhere else, was coloured by inexperience, unreliability, accidents and far too many fatalities. Brave people, and extraordinary achievements nonetheless.

There, hanging from the ceiling, were three aircraft to which I can relate: 1. The SG 38 trainer, which Slingsby copied, gave it a body, and called it the Cadet, and in (on?) which we Cottons started our careers. I flew an SG 38, rather draughty, but educational.

2) Then there was the North American Harvard, in which I spent many happy hours flying with the Cambridge University Air Squadron. Remember it a bit of a beast on the ground, but wonderful once in the air.

3) The inevitable Tiger Moth. How many were built? Thousands probably. And how many pilots trained on them? Also thousands certainly. I flew one, the aerotow plane at The London Gliding Club at Dunstable. Ah! Those were the days!

Came out after, for the information-overfilled brain, a resusticating and sustaining cup of coffee and a piece of apple tart, into the rain, and the bike ride back to the boat. Wet. Rest of the day drying out and also laundry.

Next day, more tourism, this time to the newly-opened Jektefarts Museum. A jekt was a boat built for goods transport, the one in the museum, “Anna Karolina”, built in 1876, and used for transport of dried fish from Lofoten to Bergen, and other goods on the return journey. One of the very few still in existence of the very many used for the coastal trade for over four hundred years. They were the life-blood arteries of trade, there being no roads to speak of in those days. It was impossible to take a pic of Anna Karolina because one couldn’t back off far enough to take in her enormous size. 60 feet long, 21 feet wide, The mainsail measured 14,5 meters wide and 10,5 meters high., The mast was originally 27 meters tall. Those interested further can google “jektefart.no”.

Then back to my, by comparison, miniscule boat, Josin, and a by-motor journey in the evening to Bliksvær, (67 16.6 / 14 00.5), several boats arriving at the same time and almost slow-motion musical chairs to get tied up. Josin safely the jam in a bigger-boat sandwich. Forecast was for a sudden half-gale in the early hours, so ropes were carefully arranged in all directions. I don’t think it blew, it didn’t wake me up anyway.

Goal for the day, in an unfortunately contrary wind, so it will be mostly motor, is Støtt, a well-sheltered harbour where there is a very good restaurant.

Alls well.

A rather bouncy night made it difficult to get the day going, so we didn’t leave Nordskot until after elevenses, but there was a pleasant northwesterly breeze blowing, and as soon as we were out in open water, the genakker was unfurled and we had a wonderful, gentle sail, past impressive mountains:

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Goal for the day was therefore Nordfold, a small town quite a way into the Foldafjord, as the now-westerly wind was carrying us there. But, the wind gradually died, and we went in to Heimsund, on Hjartøya, ( 67 39.3 / 015 02.7) instead. Here was a long slowly-shelving bay leading to a wide sandy beach, with people, the family sort, of all sizes. We were at just after the bottom of the tide, an ideal time to enter an unknown place. My newly-calibrated depth-sounder told me gradually less water, boatspeed at an absolute minimum, until it showed 0,9 meters, so we stopped, the bottom, of clean sand under green water, very clearly visible. Drop anchor and back. Firm hold. Still a long way from the beach. Pleasant evening in the sun-filed cockpit, reading and enjoying the cloud formations, and snoozing. Early to bed to try and compensate for the previous night.

Woke early, much refreshed, to a light north-easterly breeze, and managed to hurry the routine to get away, to again, a gentle genakker sail. Unfortunately the wind gradually veered more and more easterly until, with the genakker still just filled and drawing, we were almost headed out to sea. Not sensible, so genakker got rolled in and foresail out and main sail up. Just managed close-hauled to keep desired course for a while, until more veering of the wind meant I had to down sails and start the engine. Headed for Hjelløy, where there is a mooring buoy. ( 67 32.7 / 014 29.3), Been there several times before. On the way in there is a small. low little island, and on it standing sentinel on its highest (!) point, was a sea eagle. I slowed down to almost stop, and watched. The bird watched me, just fifty meters away. I crept below to fetch the camera, but I must have scared him , as he flapped majestically away. No picture. Could have been a good one. Into the bay, surprisingly five boats, including one on the buoy. Bother. Tried anchoring several times, but the bottom was all thick seaweed, and we only succeeded in ploughing up sheaves of it, without holding. People on the other boats watched, and were probably amused. Then, wonders, the motorboat on the mooring left, so we quickly tied up to it, closing entertainment for the day for the masses.

Evening was absolutely calm, with interesting skies reflected in the mirror-water: Looking east. Looking west.

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Forecast for today was for partly cloudy and very little wind, which checked, so we boringly motored all the way to Bodø. Guest harbour was overfull, two abreast here also, and after a good deal of looking, found a spot on the fuel pontoon where there wasn’t a “reserved” sign, together with three other sailing boats, with just space for Josin. Managed to touch the one ahead with Josin’s bowsprit, which I had forgotten to take in. (Can’t see it from the cockpit). No damage. Smiling skipper, who took my ropes.

Only 19 nautical miles today, all motoring. Shame. I’d rather got used to sailing! Forecast is for rain tomorrow, so a little shopping and some tourism is in order. The National Aeronautical Museum is here.

Alls well.

Grey morning in Trollfjord, no sun, so another day without summer. On the way to Svolvær we saw this coming to Trollfjord. Looks a comfortable way to travel and with excellent viewability. It may be electric, it was quiet enough, there are several tourist vessels and ferries now with electric propulsion.

Uneventful the rest of the way to Svolvær, with the famous statue at the harbour entrance of a fisherman’s wife looking for her husband. Further in were long rows of the frames used for drying the vast amounts of cod caught here in the Vestfjord in the early months of the year.

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Svolvær guest harbour was over-full, with motorboats tied up two-abreast, contrary to covid 19 rules, and absolutely no space for Josin. So we tied up to the harbour wall, high, next to a ladder to climb ashore. Not pleasant. Went food shopping, read a little and then went to bed, intending an early start.

No. It was raining when I woke up, also for the second time, and continued until lunchtime, then a sudden clearance, blue skies, and a southerly wind. Oho! Activity in the harbour. Queue to get out. Outside the harbour entrance there were waves, big waves, so we motored to the shelter of a convenient island to hoist the sails, first main, then genakker. Whoosh! 10 to 15 knots of wind abeam and we had a rollercoaster ride across the fjord, rolling and pitching and enjoying it immensely. Wind gradually decreased until the movement of the boat was more than the wind could hold the sails filled. so we motored the rest of the short distance to Straumshavn, on Hamarøy, (68 06.4 / 015 22.3), and anchored in a well-protected bay in crystal-clear, icy-green water, bottom very visible. It seemed much closer than the depth sounder showed, 5,4 meters. Water wasn’t that clear and deluding, surely? Could the sounder be wrongly calibrated? Needs checking. Measured the depth with the most reliable method of all: A weight on the end of a piece of string. Just over two meters. But the keel is 1,6 meters below the waterline! Ah, humph. How many times have we nearly hit bottom in blissful ignorance? Half an hour later of pressing buttons on the chart plotter and trolling through all the menus, eventually revealed where to make adjustments. The sounder now reads zero with 20 cm of water under the keel. Since then, all waters have been shallower, some nearly nail-bitingly so. Haven’t touched yet!

Peaceful night and a wakeup call from the sun, bursting out from behind a mountain to the east. Shower. Breakfast. The forecast wind duly appeared and we up-anchored and left, hoisting sails just out of the bay.

Looking back, there was the famous “Hammarøyskaft”, of which I’d taken a picture on the way north without realising its significance.

Another glorious genakker sail south-along, this time with the wind on the quarter, and only the vestige of yesterday’s rollers on the bow.

Interesting weather conditions, each mountain had its own cumulus cloud as a hat, with old ones downstream:

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It couldn’t last of course. Before we got to goal for the day, Røsøy on the island of Steigen, it was back to motorsailing, then only motoring as the way in to the harbour was to the north. Disappointing. Only unoccupied tie-up was obviously a private slot. A short walk ashore revealed little of interest, so we left again and headed for Nordskot, which I knew. The guest pontoon is an “L”, with the long bit exposed to the westerly winds, and waves and wakes of passing boats, and the short bit more sheltered. An enormous sailing boat occupied the whole length of it. So now I sit here on the long bit and bounce. A young couple, in a 40 foot sailing boat, was dithering to leave in their inexperience, because of the wind pressing them onto the pontoon. SkipperJohn showed them how to use a “spring” a diagonal rope from bow to shore, and the engine and rudder to rotate the boat out at the stern, until they could back out with space to spare. Hoots of joy when they left. Good deed of the day. Dinner now, then read..

Alls well

The forecast was for gentle southerly winds, good for a sail to Trollfjord. So the genakker was hauled out from the depts of a cockpit locker and rigged. A bit of a process with its ropes having to be in the right pulleys and places to avoid poggles. On the way out of Skrova harbour we met Per coming in, so we hurriedly stopped for a chat, gently heaving in the rollers. I reiterated my appreciation of his help and advice.

Goodbye Skrova. That blue sky looks promising!

Out into the Vestfjord there was a southerly wind, but it was too weak to sail, so we motored and hoped for the forecast increase. A steady stream of a variety of boats heading out from Svolvær came past us, going north, almost certainly for Trollfjord. After the shallows at Øyhellesund, well marked and with a strong current, and back in more open water, the genakker was unrolled and we sailed, gently northward. Bliss! The mountains on both sides keeping the wind constant in direction. Rolled the sail in to make a stop at Digermulen, to the shop on the quay to buy fresh bread. Had to wait a few minutes as it was really fresh out of the oven. Then back to the last stretch, sailing, to the entrance to Trollfjord. Motored gently the rest of the way in to the west end, to anchor off the outlet of the small river. (68 21.8 / 014 55.8). The river water, being sourced up in the melting snows, was crystal clear and very cold, 8 degrees, the lowest yet. That swim seems ever further away. A peaceful evening, reading in the sunshine, until the sun hid itself behind a towering mountain to the west, clouds collected, whereupon the temperature fell rapidly.

Entertainment in late evening, the coastal steamer “Trollfjord” came, turned around and departed. You can see the narrow entrance to the fjord. The steep mountainside on the left has had lots of ships names graffitied on it but they have obviously been erased by ice and water, very few remaining.

Had hoped for a sunny awakening this morning, but no, low clouds covered the sky and swirled around the mountainsides. Forecast more of the same, so I think I will up anchor and leave for Svolvær. No wind here, but maybe some out in Raftsund. We’ll see.

Alls well.

A long, motor slog into the wind and waves. Not much to look at or entertain. Rather tiring. During the afternoon I was abruptly dragged out of a torpor when the engine revs suddenly dropped, and a serious vibration shook the boat. Wake up! Grab engine control. Neutral. Peer over the side. Nothing. Gear in reverse and some power. Still vibration. Forward again. Less vibration. Ah. probably weed. So little ahead, then little astern repeated, and suddenly a large clump of weed appeared aft.

Resume normal progress. Thankfully! I didn’t relish the thought of having to don full wet suit and go overboard and clear things.

Only sight of anything was a south-bound Hurtigrute, (Coastal Steamer), seen against the backdrop of Store Molla island, on it’s way to Svolvær.

Bit of close navigating around and into Skrova harbour, a very well-protected place, only exposed to direct southerly winds. But where was this mooring Per said I could use? Nowhere fitted the description. Confusing. Guest pontoon over-full. So we motored very slowly further in and found, one among many small ones, a pontoon below a row of houses, or rather holiday cottages, which didn’t look occupied.

Still didn’t look occupied today either. Close inspection of very slack mooring ropes had obviously been dangling in the water for some time, they being well overgrow with weed. Didn’t get disturbed, although ready.

Today, out came the bicycle and I investigated Skrova from end to end, sounds energetic, but no, Skrova is small. There is a tunnel through the hill giving access to wharves for fish activities, and in this tunnel is an exhibition of historical photos, mostly of fishing activities of course. Life must have been very hard in those not-too-distant days. And on the side of the road there, hung on the fish-drying racks, a long row of very recent photos from Burma, (eller Myanmar if you prefer). Very odd to find that here, way up north. Told a tragic story.

Restaurant Skrova Brygge enticed with fish soup for dinner today. Can be very good, each chef proud of their own. It was good. Service very slow, so enjoyed it all the more.

Relax now. Maybe Trollfjord tomorrow, weather decides.

Alls well.

A relative short motorsail into Skjomen, a long, slightly winding, deep fjord between high mountains. The wind was northerly, and always aft and variable. After many gybes, I gave up the mainsail, it was then much easier gybing only the jib. Impressive mountains, and evidence of how they can threaten and create problems. A recent landslide, now cleared, had closed the road into the community in the inner end of the fjord:

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I had intended to anchor there, but the wind was blowing straight onshore, and I was unsure of the anchor-hold, so we puttered out and north again, looking for a better place. Ended up at Ofoten Kystlag, (68 17.3 / 017 18.5), welcomed by Jan Eirik to take Josin’s ropes. He had seen us sailing in earlier, and though we might be back. Previously a station for experimental aquaculture, looking after the health of this region’s rather special milieu.

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Lots of buildings, mostly hidden in the woods behind, and enormous amounts of superfluous equipment looking sad. What did they need three VW engines for? There was one large digging machine which should have been in a museum. How on earth did it get there? There is no road to this side of the fjord.

Woke early next morning to this, flat calm, cloudless, windless. It remained like this for most of the day, so I was able to enjoy a rather special day ashore.

Jan Eirik was busy sawing up and choppinig firewood when I climbed the road, (track), and he stopped and told me about this recently established addition to Forbundet KYSTEN, (The Coastal Society). Members mostly from Narvik. They had done an incredible job of clearing and fixing and maintenance, and the main building was now a very organised place, with kitchen and lounge.

Jan Eirik said I should take a stroll along the road (track, “three-ply”, very overgrown), to see the rock carvings, so I did, and saw this on the way:

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Very pretty waterfall and stream, of crystal-clear, very cold, water. There were several derelict buildings from long-abandoned farms, this was one of the least derelict, but the raspberry bushes had survived in their abundance. So to the rock carvings, an isolated and surprisingly white, smooth rock, obviously ideal for the purpose:

The carvings are apparently best seen just after rain, and in early or late, slanting sunlight. This was in the middle of the fantastic day, so, bad luck! I could just about imagine that there has been carving activity, can you?

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I wandered both ways along the road, (track), until other houses came into view. Well cared-for ex-farm buildings, now used recreationally. Remember, everything has to be transported by boat!

Early to bed, satisfied-weary after a rather special day, just as the sun disappeared behind a mountain. Suddenly chilly. Thankyou for an interesting stay Jan Eirik, and good luck for the future!

Woke to a disappointing, very chilly, grey and drizzly day, clouds down the mountainsides and wind still north. So, full protective clothing, and away. Goal not very challenging, to Ballangen, further out on the south side of the Ofotfjord. Got to the guest harbour at the bottom of the tide, and suspiciously shallow water inside the molo, and everywhere in the small harbour was occupied. Not very inviting. As it was still relatively early, we turned around and headed back out into the fjord and west, in very variable weather, rain, sailing wind, calm, counter currents and winds and waves, to Lødingen, (68 24.7 / 016 0.3). Largish harbour (with easily-accessible diesel!) and a small guest pontoon. Tied up next to Per, a fisherman on holiday from Skrova, (my intended next stop). Per gave me tie-up tips there, including that there was no electricity at the guest pontoon. Kindly said I could use his berth for the next day or two. Forecast not very promising for a sailor. We’ll see.