Just when I was thinking that Bohuslän may actually be somewhere in the Mediterranean instead of the North Sea, we get a rainy day. But we've sailed a lot and had a good time in the sun lately, so it's no big disaster. This morning gave us promising sunshine, though the forecast did predict cloud and rain later in the day in this region, so we were not taken by surprise. You have to be very aware of weather shifts when you are out sailing and we keep a close watch on wind and weather reports as well as our trusty barometer and observations on the clouds.

We ate breakfast outside again, enjoying the sun's warming rays, with the two bridges providing an excellent view. Looking at the sky, it's hard to believe that rain will come later on.




In view of the forecast, we took off quite early and did a tour of a couple of bays in Norway. Unfortunately, Norway does not have the same Allemansrätten that we enjoy in Sweden, so if we chose to drop anchor in these bays, someone would more than likely come and chase us away. This explains why so many Norwegians come down to Sweden for summer sailing and enjoy the luxury of being able to moor freely almost anywhere. And explains why so few Swedes venture up to Norway. We had discussed sailing up to Fredrikstad or Oslo, but we would be forced to stay in designated marinas along the way. At this time of the year, they would be packed, so we elect to turn south and head back to Sweden.

We tacked along in decreasing winds and finally chose to drop anchor in a bay a short distance north of Strömstad. The following day we sailed past the most westerly mainland point of Sweden, which was the scene of a great naval battle in 1719. Today, in stark contrast, the area is dominated by what I think is the ugliest beachside construction I've ever seen in Sweden.




For a second I thought I'd landed in some tasteless spot on the Queensland coast - Porpoise Spit, maybe? I was expecting Muriel to come sashaying along the beach belting out some Abba tune. Honestly, the Swedes usually do this sort of thing so much better - we were both in open-mouthed shock. It quite put us off our morning fika, I can tell you. What were they thinking?

As the winds were from the south, we had to tack again and this took us quite a way into Norwegian waters again, before we were able to turn back towards Sweden. As luck would have it, the Koster Islands were nearby and so we decided to go and check out Sweden's most westerly populated islands.

My god, is that a seagull I see? The very first gull on the west coast. (yes, I know....I need to get a life)




The islands that make up this archipelago are bare and rocky and before the lighthouse at Ursholmen was built, this coastline was quite treacherous and the site of many shipwrecks. Perhaps the better known on these was in February 1867, when the barque Thames was swept onto the rocks here during a south-westerly gale, with heavy snow,icy seas and a strong current. The vessel broke up and capsised with the loss of all hands onboard.

With this in mind, we carefully plotted our way between the skerries and searched for a suitable mooring spot. There were a lot of boats tied to the cliffs in the first few places we tried, so we continued along the labyrinth of narrow channels with one eye on the ever darkening sky and one ear listening to the VHF wind forecast. We also saw a surprising number of people out fishing from the cliffs - even teenage girls!




This was a Norwegian girl (Swedish girls are far too cool to do something like that) and we noticed that all of these fishermen belonged to Norwegian boats. I guess fishing must be a real passion there. As you can see from the picture, this area is again dominated by the bare cliffs devoid of any kind of life. This kind of landscape leaves me quite cold, so we chose to head for an area that had a little greenery showing. There was a sense of urgency as the black clouds swept in surprisingly fast, so we chose a deep crack in the northern part of the island of Arholmen. Through the opening we could see a low, flat strip of land and a tantalising peep of the islands lying on the other side of the archipelago.




From the other side of the boat, you would never know that this little lagoon was there and when we travelled with the dinghy across the water and looked back, it appears that we are moored in an open, barren sort of place. Angles can be very deceptive.




It also looks like we are alone, but in fact the island is made up of deep cracks and each one held a boat, so there were a dozen or so boats around us - all Norwegians. We have observed that they like to travel in groups - you see three or four similar boats all going from place to place together. We also saw that they are more likely than Swedes to have friends onboard. Swedes tend to sail with family only, but Norwegian boats have many more people aboard and they looked like their vacations were more about socialising with friends rather than strictly family.

I got very little sleep as one of the boats had someone onboard who saw himself as the next possible music find in Norway and he proceeded to strum his guitar and wail (I hesitate to call it singing) all night. Where are the torpedos when you need them? I'm all for artistic expression, but not when it intrudes on my much needed beauty sleep! The weather wasn't the only thing that was overcast by morning. Funnily enough, when we took off in the morning, our Bob Dylan-wannabe was still up and waved happily to us as we passed. I had to laugh at such cluelessnesss, but it did have the advantage of cheering me up. Especially when we rounded the corner and saw the chaos in Kostersundet guestharbour. Yep, it could have been worse....




The harbour was crowded with Norwegian boats, lying three deep outside of each other. It amazes me that people will actually pay money to be jammed into a pier like this when they can pop around the corner and anchor for free. It is not simply that the harbour is crowded with boats constantly looking for a mooring place, but this one is located in a busy sound and there are numerous ferries, tour boats, taxi boats etc arriving every hour stirring up the waters and bouncing you around. Oh yes, and the knobs as well....





But it wasn't all negative. While we thought the islands were somewhat overrated, there were some lovely spots, especially the places that still had permanent residents and showed signs of real life. I love to see these fishing villages still alive and well.




The actual Koster Islands are made up of two main islands which are car free. The northern island, which is much smaller seemed to be made up of quite rocky ground with large patches of heather and bushy heath, with small, wooden cottages clinging to the shoreline below the high cliffs.




Many of these places are now strictly summer residences, but 300 people still live out here year round. Most of the population go to Strömstad to work, though there are a few small businesses here involved in building, fishing, sheep farming, mussel farming, even a web designer. Summer involves thousands of visitors each year. We saw boat after boat pulling up full of daytrippers out from Strömstad or nearby Norway and I wondered how the local population viewed this annual invasion.




Wandering around a place like this, you can find hidden corners like the old fishing cottages that make you think you have stepped back in time. They look just the same as they did centuries ago when they were first built. Then you can turn a corner and find yourself in the middle of today's buzz, with cafés and the sound of boat engines filling the air - the mind really boggles.




There were far too many boats in the main harbour to go in to land and anyway, the overcast conditions were not too inviting, so we contented ourselves with slowly sailing along the sound. We then made our way back out into Kosterfjorden which have not been lucky waters for us. Today, there are quite large waves (against us, naturally) and Lambi does not like the rolling motion. When she is unhappy, she becomes somewhat of a pest and tries to get out of her basket or whimpers to be shifted around 350 times an hour, none of which really does our humour much good. While we were hoping to head to Väderöarna (another group of outlying islands) today, we can see that conditions are really too rough for the pets, so we head into the mainland archipelago routes where things are a little calmer.

This turned out to be a good move. Not only did the wave motion subside, the sun also came out, the sky cleared and while we were still tacking against a stiff south westerly breeze the sailing became easier. One highlight of the afternoon was seeing this lovely old sailing ship.

And look, there's that damn lighthouse again.....




The boat is a magnificent square-rigged barque Gunilla, which was originally launched as a cargo vessel at the Oskarshamn Shipyard in 1940. She is made of steel and she navigated Swedish waters until 1997 after which she became a school and charter ship. When you see her next to a modern sailing boat (and this boat is over 40 feet long), you get an idea of her impressive dimensions. It was great to see those sails billowing and seeing her glide between the islands.




Gliding down the coastline, looking for a place to moor is not so easy in this part of the coast. Because of the force of the current, you cannot moor in any bay facing from the direction of the waves. This effectively cuts off anything in the west or south of any island. There are very few places that provide a suitable shelter and those places are already taken very early in the day, so we seem to waste a lot of time going from place to place hoping for the best.

It's a little frustrating and one of the negative aspects of trying to see the area in the summer. For us, it's a catch-22 situation. We have to travel a long way from home just to get here, so we are obliged to be here just at the time when the area is crowded. Ideally, we'd prefer to be here a month or two later when things have calmed down a bit, but then we would face the autumn storms on the way home. Having sailed the 500 nautical miles from Göteborg to Nynäshamn during a cold, stormy November fortnight a few years back, we are not inclined to willingly repeat the experience.

But in the end, we do find a place to anchor. While it is not the ideal spot and certainly not one we would ever choose if we were in home waters, we have to accept that we have limited options here and simply make the best of it.

Anyway, the sun is shining again and the winds look good tomorrow for a trip back out towards the outer islands. I think a nice glass of chilled white wine will help mellow out the evening nicely.