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.
Tuesday 14th, midday, the wind had abated, so we set off south after lunch, through the last of the Gothenburg archipeligo, at a spanking pace, just for genoa. On the way, this combination appeared, honking it’s way up the fairway:
a gas tanker towing a tug! I think the tanker had steering problems, and the tug was doing the steering from behind. Anyway, lots of “here come I” honking and all us little vessels scuttling out of the way.
A short sail to Skallahavn, (57 21.6N 011 59.6E) to the last of the blue buoys, going south. No more suitable spots apparently. Buoys taken, so we anchored, in solid sand. Lovely sunny evening.
Next day, at a relatively civilised start time, we up-anchored and had a gentle sail to Varberg. Had thought of going a good deal further, but needed diesel. Varberg harbour is a busy place, with significant commercial traffic, turist boats for fishing, and sightseeing trips and a guest harbour in the middle of town. Pleasant place, so I decided to stay for the night. Shopping; food, fish, mussels and veg. No desirable bread. Swedish bread in the supermarkets is generally whit-ish and flabby. Mussels for dinner. Huge, succulent, and I ate too many. And still a few left, which the gourmand gulls enjoyed.
Next day, by now it was thursday, an early start was intended, as I wanted to reach the island of Hallands Væderø, a good stretch, in a plausible wind. We puttered over to the other side of the harbour, to the marina, and, after a bit of “not here, must be the next pontoon”, we found diesel. Just before tying up, the engine’s exhaust note changed from its usual snuffling sound to a that of motorcycle. Bother, engine cooling water failure. Diesel now at three times the price it was last year in Norway. OW! Good thing I decided to do more sailing and less motoring this year, which has happened. Systematic trouble-shooting revealed that the water intake under the hull was blocked. Water too cold and infested with small stinging jellyfish prevented a dive, but with prodigious puffing through a hose onto the shutoff valve inboard, all became clear again, fountain!. Cuppa needed, and a breathing rest.
So we didn’t get away until nearly lunchtime, by which time the favourable wind of earlier had reduced somewhat, so we had to assist with the engine occasionally, not least to help bash through the waves, which were confused and sometimes steep. Lovely day though and a very pleasant evening when we entered the anchoring bay, (56 25.8N 012 34.4E), on the south end of Hallands Væderø at nearly nine o’clock. No less than four, all foreign, sailing boats already there. Found a spot, rather near the entrance, and after two abortive attempts, anchored. Strangely enough, although the prevailing winds and waves through the day had been from the north west, here were rollers coming in from the south and making us all roll. Not really comfortable for cooking. At the critical moment I looked away and my plate with fried flatfish slid off the bench and landed on the floor, thankfully fish-side up. The peas and most of the chips were scattered. Taste not impaired!
Soon to bed, but not entirely happy with the anchor-hold, so slept in half-hour stints. Sure enough, at sun-up, just after 4 AM, the wind increased and the anchor dragged, and we headed astern towards the rocks. After two more unsuccessful attempts to find anchor-hold, we diverted in hope to the next-door bay, found it even less inviting, and motored off back the way we had come, to a large bay on the north-east side, called Sandy Bay, (56 26.8N 012 34.0E). Yes, sand, and excellent anchor-hold. Sleep, several hours.
This is obviously a favourite place for day-trippers, Lovely sandy beaches, rocks to climb and friendly grassy banks, (pic taken later today, more cloudy),
and sure enough, on this lovely warm, sunny day, they came, arriving with the charming “Nanny”, from the harbour of Torekov, across water on the mainland, in shuttle traffic through the day.
And now the last (hopefully?) have left. Just us and the gulls and the cormorants, and a seal!
Update from Slubbersholm. (That name.. holm means small island, I wonder who the Slubber was to be honoured by having it named after him. He probably bumped it).
The wind had blown well all night, right into the bay, and was still blowing, feeding significant choppy waves, which gave us a very rocking-horse ride on our way out. Then a sharp turn to port and a rushing, rolypoly sail into the Kirkesund channel. Contrasting cabins (hytter), som large: This one must be a three-generation one.
and some small:
And then in to the harbour at Skärhamn (57 59.3N 011 32.8E), to be welcomed by Stefan, of the Swedish Ballad club, who took a picture of me readying for arrival, then took my ropes, then a pic of us tied up:
Stefan was most kind and invited me into his summer home for lunch (and a sticky bun) and a long chat.
Stefan is also a boat-builder, of mini format, using the strip-plank method. Incredibly light and strong
On the way back to the boat he took me to the local bakery, famed for it’s products, where I bought the most delicious stone-baked sourdough loaf. (Most of it got eaten most enjoyably, for supper!)
Next day was sunny and with a promised sailing wind, which held until after we had passed through Marstrand, (traditionally posh), and held in strength but not direction down the long Salöfjord to Gothenburg. On the way we were spectator to a regatta creaming along under spinnaker. The poor boat in front almost got swallowed.
Then more south east towards the marina at Långedrag, and a rushing sail across the main fairway for vessels to and from Gothenburg.
The last post described our tying up in the marina, ably and generously helped by David Eitzinger next door, an Austrian:
who later on regaled me with tales from the oceans of the world until very late in the evening.
The wind howled for the next two days, so nobody left. I took the rattly tram in to Gothenburg to try and sort out problems with the broadband modem I have on board, but to no avail. Somehow it had caused a whole month’s subscription of gigabytes to be gobbled up in just five days. A very long telephone call this morning with Telenor’s tech help, didn’t sort it either, but we eventually found a solution without the malignant modem, so now I am back on the air.
I have given up trying to post the first one, which was written as a page by mistake, (this year’s start-up fumbles), and it is there in the app, but despite my, and kind advisor’s, best efforts, remains seemingly locked there. I see that some of my readers have seen it somehow, so further efforts would seem unproductive.
So, where are we now? Långedrag marina, (57 40.0/011 50.8) just south of, and outside Gothenburg. Over 500 boats, in moorings, (very few available), of the type popular in Sweden, where there are two scratchy, solid wooden poles between which you squeeze you shiny boat, looping lines over both the poles as you go past and hanging on to them so that you don’t bash the bow. Don’t forget to put the engine in reverse-then-neutral at the critical moment and at the same time avoid bumping the neighbours. Quite a lot of things to do all at once for a solo sailor. This procedure obviously needs practice.
Update after post #2: We continued south from Grebbestad, first a short way to a blue buoy at Musöen (58 38.2/011 14.3) in the rain. Next day a splendid sail for three hours to Långöy (58 29.4/ 011 18.0), where a cookoo sounded a welcome. SW wind blew hard during the night, (these blue buoys are safe!), and even the gulls, ducks, geese and swans took shelter somewhere out of sight. (Never saw the cookoo!)
Next day the wind had quietened down a bit, but was even more southerly, so back to motoring inside the islands, and through the Sote canal. And there it was the dreadful fate befell a too-busy-to-see-where-he-was-going captain. No, not that serious, but an interesting lesson none-the-less.
Pictures! Blogs need pictures! Also with me in them! I keep forgetting. But then I remembered that my kind and generous children had given me a selfie-pole, selfie-stick (?). Rummage. Find. Instructions not really necessary. Extend. Mount iPhone. turn on. Click. Pic of distance, not me. Wrong camera. Switch. Ready now? All this before we entered the canal. The canal is generously provided with navigating signs, some the usual red and green pole, and some rather more solid, a sort of tryfid, (three-legged), in thick logs, painted at the top with the right colour, and most of them with a gull nested-sitting broody right on top.
Selfie: Very concentrated. You can see the tryfid we’ve just passed. Took several pics in my enthusiasm, but this was the only printable one. Then BUMP! A (luckily) glancing blow on the next tryfid, enough to wobble Josin and me, but no damage, except to my pride. Moral and lesson: Priorities shall be respected.
Then on to Lysekil, with some sailing when the angle was usable, for: Foodshop, yes. Water, yes. Lunch, yes, fish-and-chips. And diesel, no.
Then the short distance south, motoring, to a blue buoy at Slubbersholmen (name!), (58 03.8/011 27.2), again for another windy but safe night
I’m still not sure if this is working, but, hei ho we press on.
Last heard of we were tied up to a rock, at Kjäringen, (58 51.0/011 2.5), Sør Koster:
Here we are, quite secure, on second choice rock, (first choice occupied by that Crooooser)
See what nature’s artist has drawn on “my” rock face. Amazing patterns. It would be nice to know the process which formed them.
Spent a relaxing day in the sunshine, with some boat fixing, cleaning, and tidying, and some reading.
Yesterday, tuesday, the forecast was for a favourable sailing wind from the NE, followed by showers, so a relatively early start was achieved, in the sunshine. But the clouds soon started to form and the wind gradually faded to motor-sailing, then just motoring, navigating safely through the countless islands, to Grebbestad, (58 41.3/ 011 15.4). Confusingly many places to tie up, mostly occupied, so I chose one close to the center, a five minute walk.
Lo! a fishmongers again. Bought smoked makrell for a lunch, flounder fillets for a dinner, and shrimp to enjoy whenever. The Swedish food custom is a warm lunch, and this fishmonger had oven-baked cod on the menu, so, yes please! While that was being prepared, I popped across the street to a supermarket and shortened the shopping list. Back to lunch, and very tasty it was. Shop obviously popular, very busy.
Out through the door and into the rain. Bother, too soon! It was thin rain, but quite wet. Back in the boat with the heater on I soon dried out. Now what? A motor-potter a little further south to while away the rain. More navigating. To a blue mooring buoy at Musön, (58 38.2/011 14.3). These mooring buoys are set out by the Swedish Cruising Club, and if you are a member, (yes, I joined again this year), one can use one for a night, much more secure than anchoring, at which I am not too confident.
Today. It is still raining, occasionally. Forecast for tomorrow is better, with possibly a sailing wind, so plan to continue south, maybe to Lysekil.
Josin's 2025 cruise 