After speaking with several friends and listening to their enthusiastic recommendations, we decided to head out to the markets at the town of Trosa. This town, also known as "World's End" is a charming little place, dating back to the fourteenth century and lies about 20 nautical miles south, then west of here. You can see from this map that it is about 70kms from Stockholm and Nynäshamn is the small red dot on the right hand side of the map. Not too far for a weekend trip.

There are about 4,500 permanent residents in the town, but in summer that swells two or three times because of the nearby summerhouses and the very popular guest harbour that lies here. We have dropped in for shopping several times while out sailing and it is one of my favourite special towns in Sweden.

The plan was to load the boat and take off on Friday afternoon. If we had good winds, we estimated a four hour sail to reach a small bay close to Trosa, then motor up on Saturday morning for the market. The reality was, as usual, somewhat different. Good winds? Whatever were we thinking?

We took the birds with us this time and the easiest way to bring them to the boat is via a backpack. Don't laugh - it works really well and you can see here that they are quite happy in there, though people do stare at my twittering bag.



We began as planned, though it turned a little cold after an hour or so and of course the winds were not favourable, so we had to tack (adding another seven or so nautical miles to the trip). That meant we'd arrive late at night, but we decided that was okay. However, the weather gods obviously determined that we required more of a challenge, so they sent us some fog and drizzle.



That in itself isn't so bad as we have good quality, warm, waterproof sailing clothes, so we went below and changed into those to guard against the chill and rain. Yes, it was grey and misty, but we had wind so with the sails up we were making speed. I think the weather gods were in a playful mood, because they decided instead to send rain - big, fat, heavy drops of rain and to kill the wind. Great. There is nothing quite as depressing as just sitting there stationary, sails flapping limply, surrounded by mist and water being rained on relentlessly.

The captain then made one of his famous executive decisions "Bugger this for a joke!" and chose to head by engine for the nearest sheltered bay and wait out the rain. We had reached the halfway mark after four hours, so we pulled into Soviken and battened down the hatches. Sometimes, you can take a break, have a bite to eat, rest a while and the bad weather passes, enabling you to hoist the sails again and keep going for a few more miles.

Not today.

The rain really set in, so we thought it was madness to even consider going to Trosa. The weather forecast for the weekend was even more depressing, so we ate dinner and thought it was best to stay here until the weather improved. There were three yachts anchored here waiting out the rain and after dinner, I looked out of the window (and notice how light it is, even at 10.30pm) and saw a small fishing boat enter the bay. Surely they were not going fishing on a night like this?



That is exactly what they did - in an open boat, with no shelter. Around 10.30pm they came over to our boat and asked us if we had some matches as they wanted to build a fire on the shore for some warmth. Crazy, crazy guys, but they seemed really happy and during the evening and night we heard them laughing and chatting. It rained constantly all night long, then at about 7am, it suddenly stopped and the sun came out and dried off the deck and the sopping wet sails. By the time we'd had breakfast, it was really lovely outside and the fishermen cheerfully headed off for home, thanking us for the matches as the fire had literally saved their night.

We looked at wind direction and it was favourable, so the Trosa markets were achievable and we set off. What a contrast to the cold, grey fog of last evening.



There were a few boats out on the water taking advantage of the good winds and sunny weather, though I think that more than a few were put off by the depressing forecast and stayed at home, which was a great pity. We have sometimes gone out despite poor forecasts and found fine sailing conditions, so we take the forecasts with a pinch of salt, as we say.



Again, we passed the wonderfully appealing summer houses that dotted the shores of the many islands around here. Most of them are built right on the water and offer views across the bays and inlets. I know a certain Swede who would love to live in spots like these all year round.



In just a couple of hours, we had covered the required distance and headed up the narrow canal towards Trosa. This canal is surrounded on both sides by summer houses, some of them dating back to the nineteenth century or earlier. These ones tend to be much larger and have more decorative woodwork.



The winds were so good today that we were able to sail up this canal, which is not what usually happens at all. Generally we have to motor up the two nautical miles because the winds are in the wrong direction and also because it is a busy channel. In no time at all, we could moor at the guest harbour, which was full of foreign boats - mostly German, Dutch and Danish, with one lone Scotsman as well. And just at the end of the pier was the tivoli.



I felt like I'd been transported back to Adelaide in early September for the Royal Adelaide Show and finding myself smack bang in the middle of sideshow alley. The noise of the disco music was deafening and added to the shrieks and squeals of the mainly teenage clientele it was identical to the cacophony that marks show week in Adelaide. Uncanny how some things are universal, isn't it? The appalled look on Lars-Göran's face was worth the trip there. He'd never seen anything like it in his life.



We then decided to check out the market itself. I've been to several Swedish markets and have found them to be a little disappointing in that they are all much the same with no discernable local flavour. Just the same stalls, selling the same things at every place. But at Trosa, it was on a mammoth scale and the town was jam packed with people. I've never seen such a crowd here and the markets themselves covered every main street and square in the township.



We did fight our way through the teeming throng and bought some secondhand books (what a surprise) and some brända mandlar (like the ones we had at Gamla Stan last Christmas) which were a bit sickly sweet to tell you the truth. I was angling for some fairyfloss (sockervadd), tempted by the pretty colours, but got a warning look from Lars-Göran, so I passed on that.

Something we did find that made the trip worthwhile was a little plastic, re-usable, screw-in pouring spout, which can be screwed into tetra-pak containers and then sealed shut again. This means that we can easily use the milk and juice packs on the boat, without the hassle of transferring them to bottles as there are no way to seal the containers again. Such a small item and I've been looking for them everywhere for the last three years. I happily bought two of them.

I asked Lars-Göran if he wanted to look down the other part of the market and he said that he'd rather be covered with papercuts, then have salt and lemon juice rubbed into them. I took that for a No and instead we ducked down a side alley towards the relative calm of the canal.



The houses that line the canal date back to the mid 1800s. Nothing much earlier than this survives, because like a lot of east coast Sweden, it was destroyed by the raiding fleets of Peter the Great in the eighteenth century. Trosa used to be a very important trading town and very popular as sea-side resort town during the times when people used to go to "take the waters", staying in one of the charming boarding houses that line Trosa canal.



See why I love this place? There is an unhurried, old-worlde charm to it that is very restful. It was quite a respite from the madness in the rest of the town. We made our way back to the boat and some of the crew had a rest, because it had been a big day and they were tired little teddy bears.



A little later, I got a call from Beth, (an Aussie girl who lives in Södertälje) who was also visiting Trosa. She and her guy came down to the boat for coffee and a long chat, which was a lot of fun and we made a promise to take them out sailing this summer. When they left we hoisted the sails again and sailed down to a small bay nearby for the evening. The winds today were so obliging that we could sail back down the canal as well. Will wonders never cease?

During the night I awoke to the sound of heavy rain on the deck, but again by the morning, it had passed, leaving a bright sunny day instead. And the forecast winds were ideal for sailing home, so we got ourselves ready and set off for Nynäshamn.

The wind was brisk running at around a constant 16 to 20 knots, but the direction was not as ideal as we hoped, so it was constant tacking through the rock filled waters. We were making very good speed, but the boat was heeling strongly (which Lambi doesn't enjoy) so it required a lot of concentration to steer the right course and keep the ship's dog happy. As if the presence of islands, rocks and underwater reefs was not enough, we also had to dodge past large ships who use this route from the Baltic up to Lake Mälaren via Södertälje canal.



We had a scary moment as we were coming into a particularly rock-filled route around the island of Krokskär. Just as we were about to enter what we believed was the channel (unmarked despite the alarming number of shipwrecks in this area), Lars-Göran became convinced we had made an error and we were heading into a ground-filled bay. He did absolutely the correct thing by swinging the boat around to head out the way we came and re-check the chart. Unfortunately for him, the end of the traveller (a fitting across the boat to which the mainsail ropes are attached) broke off with a spectacular crash, causing the carriage holding the mainsail rope to pull off and the main boom to swing out across the boat. I managed to grab the rope and hold on to the main sail while Lars-Göran ensured that the boat stayed in deep enough water. When it was safe, he could turn a little to release the pressure on the sail so we could draw it in and reattach it to the rail (after a bit of brutal emergency surgery with heavy tools). This is the third time that this particular piece of equipment has let us down in a tight situation and for me that means that despite the prohibative cost of replacing it, we MUST do so as a priority for our own safety.

After all that, we had been on the right route in, so Lars-Göran, being the typical Swede he is, started to beat himself up about it and turn it into the usual Ingmar Bergman scenario of doom and gloom, despite my assurances that he had chosen the correct course of action in the circumstances and that the failure of the equipment was just an unfortunate accident and that we managed to get out of it all okay. Sure we were a little shaken and it was tense for a short while as we frantically tried to juggle the many things we had to do at once, but we DID manage it in the end. I think he felt a little better after I talked to him, but today professes to be disappointed with himself. Silly man.

At around 8pm, we saw the "welcome" sign of the outer grounds of Yttre-Gården, an island directly across the bay from Nynäshamn.



These grounds are at least marked though one does not always see the water breaking over these underwater stones. The winds were good for that today and it shows you that you have to be aware of where you are and read the charts and markers well.

By 9pm we were tied up at our own pier and enjoying a well-earned hot dinner, feeling very happy in general with our weekend sailing and looking forward to many more days out this summer.