As promised, the weather over Saltsjöbaden cleared to a cloudy/sunny mid day, and a sailing breeze, so we set off after an early lunch, eastward back the way we came, then northward. On the way, sailing the other way, was this glorious example of a ’30s Swedish calmwater classic, pencil slim and astonishingly fast. Fantastic that a few splendid people spend the time and TLC on these clenodiums.
After an uneventful sail/motor, I decided to anchor up for the night in a promising little bay at Ramsmoragba (!), (59 25.3N 018 54.5E). Quiet spot, only disturbed by the ferry in the evening, and next morning, early, which started my day.
On northward, through the skerries by sail and occasional engine when headwinded, then a decision: Stop for the night before crossing the Åland Sea, or continue? Intense study of all the available forecasts. Agreed. Go! A long, rather rolypoly, rushing and invigorating sail, almost close-hauled in 15 to 20 kts of warm wind, to the southernmost harbour in Åland, Rödhamn, (59 59.2N 020 06.3E), avoiding ferries, cruise ships, and a tug pulling an enormous barge carrying wind turbine blades and masts. Maybe the tugmaster was a bitt worried awhile until he was sure that I had altered course enough to avoid him. I chose to go in front of him, (help with the engine for a few minutes), as going behind would have meant the long way round behind the barge and a headwind afterwards. That towline must have been a kilometre long!
Rödhamn
Rödhamn was full. An obvious stopping-off-on-the-way place. Lots of Finns going SW, and lots of Swedes going the other way, probably just done what we had, but the anchorage area had just enough room for us to anchor. Seemed very late, but was confused for a little while until I appreciated that Åland is on Finnish time, one hour ahead of Sweden/Norway. A long, rather tiring, but most enjoyable day, 11 hours and 55 nautical miles.
After a good night’s sleep and a leisurely breakfast, we motorsailed through the islands, via very well-marked routes, to Mariehamn, (60 06.0N 019 56.9E), to the marina on the east side of the town. There is a more official one on the west side. Mariehamn is on a long peninsular. Found a free berth, this one with a side-pontoon out from the main one. Luxury! Could go ashore over the side, stepping with dignity instead of jumping with tribulation over the bow.
On the way in, a wonderful sight came majestically the other way, in slow tempo in the gentle breeze. Again, praise to the dedicated souls who look after these traditional and invaluable vessels.
Spent the next day on domestics, shopping and sightseeing, but that should be in another epistle.
Starting to explore the Åland islands, first stop from the capital Mariehamn was Degerø, after a gentle genaker sail the 18 nm in the strong sunshine and a small breeze. I’d been recommended that things would be hopping at the Summer Fair at Degerö. We arrived at much the same time as a group-sail of nearly a dozen boats sailing sort-of together, so much milling around and spaghetti of ropes until all were tied up, Josin in a narrow space at the end of the pontoon. Plenty people, plenty booths, plenty ice cream tents, plenty canned music, (loud), a local bakery with delicious fresh sourdough bread and an old shed absolutely loaded, shelves-to-the-roof, with second hand books, of which only three were in English. Finnish is hopeless, but Swedish is possible, if the author is not too advanced. Main attraction on the village green was a robot rodeo bull, considerately controlled by a joystick operator outside the «ring». Much laughter and a few cheers. There was a bakedpotato stall doing good trade, and a (fresh?)fish booth, doing some. Bought a couple of fillets of unpronouncable localfish for dinner, which tasted good.
As the day wore on, the canned music was replaced by a real dance band, which answered to expectations in getting enthusiastic feet and bodies moving to the insistant, throbbing, decibels. I retired to Josin, luckily at a low-decibel distance.
I slept, to the gentle sound of small wavelets lapping at the stern. Then, at a head-confusing, middle-of-the-night hour, the wind rushed upon our innocent selves, whipping up bobbing-and-rocking waves, accompanied by un-musical tones in rigging. Steady 20 knots (40 km/t), gusting to 25 and more. People appeared, in pyjams and maybe a jacket, rushing around assessing the situation. Fenders and ropes were dug out of lockers and chaos was gradually returned to semi-order. Sleep after that didn’t happen much, though the wind abated a little after dawn. It returned with renewed strength during the morning, and a new fenders-and-ropes session developed. My neighbour to starboard dispensed countless fenders, (I had used all mine), and my neighbour to port, fortunately a substantial Finn, was most helpful in adding stability by adding ropes to more of the mooring buoys aft, after extending the boat hook with the inevitable grey stickytape.
Rest of the day was intermittantly spent trying to get some more sleep. Difficult with the bobbling motion and the noisy slapping of waves on the stern. Forecast said that things would quieten down in the late afternoon, so we´’ll wait and see.
Sorry about not publishing post #12 until now. Makes for lack of continuity. However, here write-ith the next one.
I left you in Ranöhamn, cooling it in the rain and wind. Things gradually improved and by mid afternoon the rain at least, had stopped, though the north-easter was still wearying, and, wanting to get moving, I donned plenty of clothing and we set off, into the wind, for engine. Rather boring. Nearing a point where I needed to decide whether to continue north-ish, or turn to port and head for Saltsjöbaden, (59 16.5N 018 18.i9E) with the wind now sailable, and as the forecast was for more rain tomorrow, (here were the warning clouds on he way):
I decided on the latter, and had an enjoyable sail in a clearing evening. Harbour looked to be chockablock full, but a yellow vest encouraged me to squeeze small Josin in between two large distainful other plastic fantastics, until they appreciated the proud Norwegian flag at Josin’s stern, and we were accepted after a few “where from” and suchlike questions.
Next day “dawned” brighter than forecast, so I decided on a new hunt for an anchor roller, and also to update a map for the chart plotter, as we were getting close to the edge of detailed-navigation seas.
A local train shuttles between Saltsjöbaden, a posh, traditional, remote suburb of Stockholm, and the city, with plenty of stops in between, one of which, Nacka, was close to a shopping centre with a boat-things shop. I managed to persuade the BillettAutomat to sell me a ticket, and we rattled along, yes, loudly, past woods and houses and water with boats. Nacka station was not announced, and I saw the station sign just as we were pulling out. Bother! Get out at the next. Study iPad map. Fairly straight-forward route, not too far. Sickla shopping centre is unusual, in that it is built around an enormous parking area. Murphy again: the next place you get directed to is on the opposite side.
Boat-things shop didn’t have an anchor roller of the right size, but a map update, yes. Across the parking area to a possible source. No, not there either. Next? I had on my list to food-shop at another station on the way back, but here was an ICA, on the other side of the parking area, so, why not? It was certainly the biggest supermarket I have experienced outside the US, and it took ages to fill my list, seemingly returning to the place I just was, instead of finding the next one. Found several succulent things not on the list, some rather heavy, and ended up with two bulging plastic bags. Consult iPad Google maps. Short way to Nacka station. Puff up a long flight of steps. Wait twenty minutes and the blue rattler appeared. Soon the PA system started bellowing messages. Something about technical failure down the line. Sure enough, a long wait at a station, a new bellow, and everyone got off, I hesitatingly last. My body language must have been convincing, as a slim thirty-year-old offered his translation, then generously took my heavy bags and we followed the straggling line, through leafy woods, to a stationary, untidy queue at a bus stop at another shopping centre, this time in one building, just as the promised rain arrived, in large, very wet drops. No bus thanks, a TAXI! My Good Samaritan friend helped again. Short wait huddling under a roof overhang and Taxi arrived, very helpful, quickly, with the clobber. He drove me almost all the way to the boat, the last bit along what I would consider to be a wide footpath. With pedestrians. Whatever. Taxi fare was nearly twenty times the train, but way worth it! After all that excitement, exertion and stress, I took it easy for the rest of the day.
Forecast for tomorrow was promising, rain to cease in late morning. It did, to a lovely day, even for sailing!
Still in Stugvik, we moved to attach to shore, alongside Jørgen and his light blue Ballad. Interesting to see all the improvements he has made, including copying some of mine.
As you can see, a very rural place to tie up and be neighbourly. Spent a convivial evening with Jørgen and Lisa, and grandson, (was his name Leo?), who had spent most of the morning in the dingy, either puttering around with the outboard, or rowing, experimenting, and the afternoon learning how to sail for the first time. Not much wind, so he had difficulty, but fun. Very pleased with himself, and proud grandparents.
Left at a civilised hour next morning and motored the few nm to Fyrudden, (58 11.5N 016 51.1E), for more food and hopefully a replacement roller for the anchor, the previous one having suddenly decided it would come uninstalled. Hope dashed. Ice cream in compensation.
Then onward, motorsailing in the gentle breeze, navigating the islands. Some places there is little room for manoever, and murphy ensures that one meets another boat just in the awkward spots. The weather was unstable, and the Cu were growing rapidly into CuNb. Very spectacular, and more than a little worrying.
Difficult to evaluate in which direction the core was moving, and thus the rain and/or catabatic winds. While I was deliberating, sure enough, and long before I reckoned, the wind roared down upon us, and blew at over 40 knots, very suddenly indeed. There followed a very active sailor, frantically reefing and winching in flogging sails, trying to not rush towards a threatening, solid-looking island, the while. All, after rather frantic efforts, under control. Breath out. A very interesting and educational experience. The wind reduced suddenly to a brisk sailing wind, so after a suitable wait to see if the cloud hadn’t changed its mind and had finished its blowing, I gingerly hoisted sail again, reefed just in case, and sailed most of the rest of the way to Mosskjær, (58 32.7N 016 59.2E), where I knew there was a sheltered anchorage from the southwester.
Forecast for the next day was for a suitable westerly, and we were heading east, so an early start was made, just after 7, having even made sandwiches and thermoscoffee too, and the wind came after an hour and pushed us all the way to Rånøhamn, (58 56.3N 018 10.6E), where we anchored up in the well-shelterd bay. A known spot, and popular, several other boats either anchored or tied up to the shore. There had been signs of CuNb activity well inland on the way, which I had watched carefully, but luckily no consequences for us today. Long day, nearly 50 nm.
Quiet night was followed by a grey, wet and depressing morning, so I relaxed, read book, (cooled it in modern terms), and waited for better conditions.
Leaving Sandvik, (I’ve corrected the coordinates in #10), in the afternoon meant an evaluation while underway as to how far to sail, for sail we did, a 10 to 15 kt southwester, which took us north over the sound to the Swedish mainland east coast, with myriads of islands and lurking rocks, to a delightful little bay called Baggehällen, (57 23.9N 016 38.8E), surrounded by trees, where the anchor dug in solidly. Relax! Longish day. Meal. Early to bed.
Next morning, just after sunrise, I think I was awakened by the sounds of nature getting the day going. Herons squawking. Cookoos, (in July?). Crows arguing. Anyway, quite idyllic. Ate a leisurely breakfast in the cockpit and watched four swans, each patrolling with their brood of ball-of-fluff ducklings, (cygnets?), upending themselves to find food. Fun! Clean forgot to take pics. Bother.
Forecast was for a gradually increasing south easterly, which luckily checked this time, which blew us a main-and-genaker sail in the sunshine all the way to Stugvik, (58 07.0N 016 49.0E), where the local group of the Swedish Sailing Association has its out-harbour. Been her several times before, and always a place, even though there are usually many boats.
Another Ballad there, (the boat furthest away in the second pic), captain Jørgen Ekvall, who I’ve met several times before, and who remembered previous meetings much better than I did.
Awoke after a strangely disturbed night to a grey and not very inviting, overcast morning, so decided to stay the day, and do some boatjobs, not least of which was to re-discover how to stop the genaker sheets from getting tangled when rolling the sail in, (a three-hand job). Maybe a swim later to investigate the hull for weed, and the logrotor, which has become unreliable. Then leave the buoy and tie up beside Jørgen for a proper chat.
We left Kalmar after a leasurely morning waiting for the promised wind, and having had to wait a while at the fuel dock while two large vessels, hardly pleasure size, filled up with fuel. The first one done swallowed 2500 liters. Never seen so many digits in the pump’s display! We sipped 40 liters, and an icecream for the wait.
Then up with the mainsail in hope, and motored out into the channel and head north. Gentle north east wind, gradually veering to east, so the sails helped the engine all the way to Sandvik (57 4.3N 016 51.3E). 31 nm under high cirrus, and the promise of a front. Calm night.
Next morning, a breakfast visit from Bengt, who runs an ecological farm with various animals, including camels. Had to be breakfast, as the ride-on-a-camel session started mid morning. Good to see him again, slightly older, more white hair and a longer pigtail in his beard. Matched the glorious resonant laugh.
Spent the rest of the day installing the new bow navlight, having obtained helpful advice from Lopolight-help. It finally worked. Celebrated with a delicious fish soup in the harbour restaurant. Intended to travel further north next day, but couldn’t find my sunglasses. Must have taken a swim, but the water was too dark to see the bottom. Sandvik’s various emporiums are strong on icecream, but weak on sunglasses. No busses, or taxis. So had to retrace steps a bit to Borgholm, Øland’s capital, 13 nm south, which promised three optical shops.
The sun shone and the wind blew gently in the right direction, so we had a pleasant sail to Borgholm. Big event there, exhibited on the quayside, a gathering of American cars, I think they are called “street”, the ones with squashed, 30’s style bodywork, large rear tyres, small fronts, and a throatfull V8 engine, everything brightly painted. But I was on a sunglasses mission, striking out with walking poles in fine tempo amid the hoards, and dived into the first optical shop I came to, bought two pairs of the right sort of Polaroids, and headed back to the boat. Away again, all in thirty five minutes, Didn’t even stop for an icecream.
Out to sea again, and what-do-you-know, the wind had backed to southwest, and we had a lovely gentle sail back to Sandvik,, it being too late to go any further. Yes, that cirrus had thickened and was moving fast, so there was a front a-coming. Sandvik was as good a place as any to hide from the winds and rain, so, tie up in a spot sheltered from the predicted wind direction. The rain and wind came, plenty of both, in the late evening. Wrong wind direction. We were now in direct line of the wind-driven rollers surging through the harbour entrance. We bounced. We rocked. Josin tugged and snatched on her mooring ropes so jerkily that I added more ropes. Didn’t stop the jerks, but maybe three ropes all tied to different parts of the boat, would survive. A very disturbed night followed, in worry and anxiousness. Couldn’t possibly move the boat as the wind would have blown Josin ashore as soon as ropes were released. So, wait. Mid morning, the clouds suddenly cleared, the wind abated and changed direction, and things died down enough to get in some much-needed sleep.
By mid afternoon, all was benign and sunny and peaceful, with a fine sailing southwester, so we set off again, northward.
Saturday morning dawned beautiful, over a quiet and somnolent Hanö. Weather forecast promised a sailable wind from the south east, so, why wait?
Well clear of the island and the promised wind rather too much on the nose, we had to head north of intended course, sailing close hauled with the autopilot steering to the apparent wind direction. Waves were a little uncomfortable. After a while our heading gradually turned further north, which meant a wind direction change was under way. Yes. it was, with a vengance! The next half hour it blew, mostly gently from all points of the compass, meaning I had to be very busy trimming sails. Eventually it settled, from the east, which is where we wanted to go. So, start the engine, roll in the genoa and leave the mainsail up, sheeted hard in to help with boat stability, autopilot on course. Boring. Review Plans A and B. Reject both. As we were now motoring, might as well battle our way “round the corner” and into the Kalmar Sound, where, if this wind holds, we could sail again. Goal now Sandhamn. The hours pass. Elevenses then lunch and several mugs of tea later we “turned the corner” and sailed rolypoly to Sandhamn. (56 05.6N 015 51.5E). Long, nine hour day and 42 nm.
Wind and wave direction were through a large gap in the breakwater, so Josin danced and rolled a bit, and bumped the fenders. Motion didn’t abate with nightfall. Not a good night’s sleep. Early up, to a brilliantly sunny morning and a visit from a family of swans, presumably wanting a contribution for breakfast. Sorry folks, haven’t got any bread, and müseli sank too quickly. Disappointed swans depart for other boats, still not awake.
Out into the Sound the wind was still blowing from the east and we made good speed and progress northward up the Sound, in bright sunshine and rising temperature, until mid morning, when high pressure gradually prevailed and the wind gradually died. Back to motoring. Boring, but easy to make cuppas.
It got hotter. And hotter. By the time we reached Kalmar (56 39.6N 016 21.7E) mid afternoon the thermometer in the cabin was showing 30 degrees. Amazing. And it got hotter still. Wet towel round the head looked stupid, but gave welcome relief. Spent the rest of the day, and then yesterday, in the relentless heat, feeling quite energy-less.
This morning, seven-ish early, I walked to a local bakery which I had googled. Google maps lead me through a beautiful well-kept park, close to Kalmar Fortress, with vary varied trees and bushes. Quite an arborium in fact. Small information plates with latin names too small to read from my height unfortunately. Local bakery inside a rather anonymous door, down four steps into just enough space for two customers. Delicious sourdough bread in rows of shelves, and difficult to choose. Breakfast-tested when back on the boat. Approved!
Took advantage of the slightly cooler morning temperature and went shopping in the adjacent center as soon as it opened. And just inside the doors was a TEA SHOP:
And all those tins had different teas. Must be the most comprehensive tea shop in Sweden. Stocked up with Keemun. Back to boat and hide from the heat. Can’t do anything sensible. Forecast for rain later, and it happened, thanks be!
Cooler now and brain beginning to wake up from its torpor. Chose to stay another night. Hope the wind blows in the right direction to sail further north.
Everywhere in Sweden celebrates “Midsommer”. Always on a friday, (there’s good social-democracy for you), with festive decorations everywhere, including sailboats:
(By the way, signal flags on Josin are in the correct order according to maritime regs)
Girls, of all ages, have garlands in their hair, best summer clothes, and kids highly charged on icecream.
I had gone a long walk over a good deal of the island in the morning, fantastic 360 view from the top by the lighthouse, and after lunch had taken a (little) snooze. Woke up after the festivities had started unfortunately. This involves decorating a high, specially-formed cross, with fresh branches of greenery. Then with suitable chants, it is erected in the middle of the village green, to loud acclaim. (I hope you can see it in the next pics). Then there is music and song, all well traditionally known, and finally ring dancing to special music and texts:
All ends up with everyone falling to the ground, then clapping hooray. Impressive!
Then there were competitions for the youngest. Sack races! And egg-and-spoon relay races! Lollipop prizes for all. Then it was all over, and people un-mingled to their own evening gatherings. They couldn’t have had a better summers day for it.
So, back to the boat and take in the signal flags, carefully packed in the right order for next time. I celebrated by having a delicious fish soup at the restaurant in the evening sunlight. Quite a day!
Did I, or didn’t I, publish #6 just after I’d written it. I am in serious doubt. Whatever, I’ve just published it, to make sure.
Monday 20th, last spot posted. Falsterbo canal. After a relaxing morning, a clearance late in the morning turned conditions into a sailing day, wind from the SE. So under the opened bridge at 14.00 hours, and through the short canal out into sailing waters, up with the main, (yes I can still hoist it), the roll out the genoa, and we were sailing briskly along in a quarterwind in the right direction. The weather brewed up,, luckily only over land, until half the sky was filled with a dense, black cloud, with rumblings from a goodly distance, but no visible lightning. Anvils developing overhead. Very impressive, and somewhat, er, threatening. So Plan A, Ystad, was probably not wise and we put in to Plan B, Smygehavn (55 20.3N 012 21.5E). Very small, but space for Josin. A very strong pong of cowshed or similar wasn’t too inviting, but was explained, (local Swedish dialect between a missing tooth or two was a challenge), by the harbourmaster and his assistant, to be a general fermentation of the weed on the seabed and there was nothing to do about it. OK, get used to it!
Went ashore, just in time before the shop shut. The local “fish and smokery” shop. So many variants, all succulently inviting. As it was now nearly dinner time, I bought this:
Very Swedish, many tasty variants of soused herring, smoked salmon, HB egg, and,and,and. Enough for two.
Next morning, now the 21st, dawned sunny again, the morning chill taking the edge off the pong. The breeze was still from the SE, so we enjoyed a gentle, genoa only, the short sail to Ystad, (55 25.6N 013 48.9E), a busy ferry harbour and a large marina.
When planning the visit to Ystad, there were things to do: Chart help. Collect the navigation lantern, (long story). Decent bread. Strawberries. Now Ystad is a reasonably sized town, and a pleasure to walk in, its architecture varied, its cobbled streets undulating.
Google Maps has an estimate of how long it will take you to walk from A to B, but the googlenerd who timed things must have used what the Irishman replied when asked, “Oh, its about ten minutes walk, if you run”. No, I just doubled, or even trebled, Google.
First priority was the The Chart. Google had suggested Ystad Skeppshandel, at the edge of the marina. An Eldorado of shelves in many heights, with very narrow, sideways, passageways in between, new things, old things, never-throw-anything-away-things. And, a very helpful young man with an understandable dialect, who tried very hard, but we eventually came to the conclusion that the only safe solution was to purchase a new one. Ow!, but done. Later, a long process with Mac, memory cards, Navionics app and patience produced the desired result.
Next. Collect Navlight. Done. Next, find bakery, selected from several suggested by Google. Then the walking started. (Google said 6 minutes. I timed it on the way back, 16! Ha!). Perseverance prevailed. A sourdough splendid, all crusty-burned:
The pointy end didn’t last long when back on the boat. Oh Yum!
Next, strawberries. Several stalls in the town square had them on offer, so I chose the littlest stall with the somnolent bearded guy with an ancient straw hat, who looked as though he had plucked the berries himself. Tested and found succulent, a berry that is.
Back to boat, a little footsore, but satisfied. Relax.
Forecast was for more sunshine, and again SE winds, of tempting strength, so Plan A was for distant Hanö island, with Plan B Brantevik or Simrishavn, but an early start was indicated. Didn’t wake up in time though, nevermind, so we left Ystad at 09:00. Perfect sailing, in company with several other sailing boats ahead, enjoying the conditions. A bit rolypoly at times, but invigorating. Max boat speed all the way to the southernmost point of Sweden, then turn north east, were the waves subsided, leaving sailing even better. Full speed past Brantevik, then Simrishavn, obviously, and head straight for Hanö, only 30 nm away. This is Life! More of that dark-cloud weather brewing to the west seemed to be having a positive effect on our wind, the clouds disintegrating and exhaling grandly. It didn’t last though. About half way to Hanö, as though turning off the fan, the wind died abruptly to a gentle breeze, and the engine had to help, otherwise…. Eventually even the breeze went to sleep, and we boringly motored the rest of the way.
Hanö harbour has limited longside capacity, and we arrived probably last, so a bow-in tie-up had to be negotiated. This involves motoring gently forward until stopping within boathook-reach of an intended rope dangling tantalisingly from the quay. This is attatched at the other end to something solid about 15 meters away on the seabed. You lift it out of the water and pull on it. It is the stern anchor. You belay it to the stern somewhere. By this time the quay has retreated, so you motor forward again, letting out just enough of that stern rope so that you don’t bump. Rush forward with mooring rope in hand, jump ashore and tie onto something solid. Breath out. Another bow rope. Adjust everything such that there is a jumpable gap at the bow. Take in admiring comments from the neighbouring boat. (He could have helped, but maybe he came in earlier and was well into the wine. He maybe deserved it!).
As you see, Josin the jam in the bigger-boat sandwich
A very long and satisfying day. Tummy now rumbling hungry noises after only sourdough breadandbutter on the way. (Bad planning!). Hanö’s restaurant had closed, so a quick fryup, then bed.
Enough for now. (This time I’m definitely going to publish it).
Saturday 18th, dawned wet and drizzly, with clearing to a fine NW’ly wind, so after another ZZ, we set off a little later.
Clearing the island’s lee, sailing conditions duly appeared and we rushed along under full sail in the right direction. Tried to take a pic of the excellent speed!
A remarkably few hours later we arrived in Helsingborg, for a shopping-stop and a very good fish soup in the harbour cafe, and then onward, over the Kattegat to the Danish side. Incredible south-going current of 2,5 to 3 knots wanted to push us towards Germany, and with a dying wind, the engine had to help to get us where we wanted to go, to Humlebæk, (55 58.3N 012 32.8E). It started to drizzle just as we got there, and were kindly assisted in tying up by a dripping German couple, who were very interested to hear about our “spots” further north, never mind the rain! A long day soon ended after a quick meal, look at the weather forecast, (for rain until mid morning), and sleep.
Still raining, so another lie-in and a late English breakfast, only interrupted by the harbourmaster wanting his dues, and with a mine of information about the currents further south. My understanding of Danish is very dependant on the dialect, and this one was tricky, but i think he said “keep close inshore, then The King’s Channel past Copenhagen”. So I did. But never found that channel.
My plan to go to Humlebæk was to visit Louisiana, Denmark’s Museum of Modern Art, which is only a few minutes walk up from the harbour. I think the harbourmaster said “as it is raining and a sunday it will be very busy”, (busy not really my scene), so I decided to give it a miss and visit on the way back.
Keeping close inshore means there is a lot to see, first Louisiana, with a jumbo “mobile” in the garden: Yes, there were lots of people to see through the big windows.
This bit of the coast has a sharp escarpment down to the shore, and there are many different solutions as to how to get from your house to the water. (Not very clear against the light)
Then a rare sight, a “fishing pedallo”, a rod on each side and a patient fisherman, gently pedalling:
Note varying degrees of “posh” of the seaside dwellings!
Having not found the King’s channel, we nevertheless passed Copenhagen in safety, being very careful about the abundant traffic, and into open water again, and past one of Denmark’s early wind turbine farms.
I tried counting several times, about 48 on average, all rotating evenly in the evening wind.
Then, just to relieve the boredom, the detailed chart disappeared from the chart plotter, like falling off the edge feeling. Oh dear! Back-up on the iPad still working. Odd. Dig out the paper chart, no problem. Problem solving an evening task.
To the loooong straight channel, clearly marked, to Falsterbo Canal, N, (55 24.7N 012 55.9E). Whole rest of the evening spent trying to resurrect the lost chart, to no frustrating avail.
Awoke this misty, moisty, sunny morning to the signals for the canal bridge opening, at 6 AM! Majestic vessel came through.
I think today will be a R&R day, apart from the chart-chase.
Josin's 2026 blog 