After two days of wind, rain and overcast gray weather, we have again been blessed with blazing sunshine. At this northern latitude of close to 60N, the sailing season is quite short, so you revel in every good day that you can. By August we will already be quite near the end of summer and dangerously close to the long months of Bergmanesque darkness and despair. Okay, that is a bit of an exaggeration, but sometimes it seems quite valid. However, that is far from our minds today - it is a perfect summer's day as we make our way past the island community of Resö and out into Kosterfjorden.




One thing that I have noticed over the last couple of weeks is that we appear to be heading in the opposite direction from everyone else. There are constant streams of boats heading south, while we are the lone boat heading north. Is there something we don't know, I wonder? I told Lars-Göran that we ought to consider changing our surname from Nordström (north stream) to Motström (against the stream). I don't think he was amused. Oh well....

The other thing I have observed is that we are the only Swedish boat out in this part of the country. I mean, we are still in Sweden, but every boat we meet is Norwegian. Has there been an invasion? Have the Norwegians decided to reclaim territory they ceded to Sweden in 1658? The history of Bohuslän is very interesting but also quite violent, especially here as this has been the border area between Sweden, Denmark and Norway for hundreds of years and it has involuntarily hosted countless wars. Still, it all seems peaceful enough, just a little overwhelming.

We thought we would sail out in open water as the wind is again very churlishly against us, so we must zigzag along and it always feels better to tack where there are no rocks. So out into the deep water we go, saluting the lighthouse of Svangen as we pass by. Can you believe that the lighthouse keeper used to keep a cow out here? What on earth did it eat? That must have been a lonely place as the nearest land to the south west is Scotland! And we pass by again....




And pass by again.

Oh look, there it is again!

And again.

Hmmm....still there....

What is happening? We have wind, we have tacking sails up, but we are doing no speed and seem to be aimlessly heading backwards and forwards along the same track but making no headway. A quick calculation shows we have sailed over 10 nautical miles but are only 4 nautical miles further along the route. Lars-Göran is even less amused by this and he is doubting his sailing abilities. After the problems he has had choosing moorings and the fights with the wind (which is either nil or "som helvete"), his doom and gloom Bergman-moment seems to be a couple of months early.

I am confused as well, but less inclined to descend so rapidly into the pit of despair, so I check out a couple of pilot books we have for the area and lo and behold, there is an alternative, more logical explanation to the " Woe is me! I'm a terrible sailor and should jump overboard now!" scenario. It appears that there is a rather nasty and irregular current in this area and today it is out in force. We discuss alternatives and my advice is to find a nearby bay and relax until tomorrow when good winds and sunshine are forecast. We are after all supposed to be on an enjoyable trip. So we try out mooring to a quiet cliff, west-coast style.




Of course, you need to be a mountain goat to get off the boat and we are using every fender we own, planks and tons of ropes and it all seems a lot of work compared to simply dropping an anchor. Still, if you don't try, you'll never know. On the positive side, we are moored in our own private little cul-de-sac at Vanarna, tucked in between the islands of Saltö and Tjärnö. It's far from the madding crowd and incredibly beautiful. I bet this area is popular with kyakers as you can drift between the rocks so easily and smoothly.

This evening we have a pair of strandskata for company and we discussed the fact that these are practically the first birds we have seen on the west coast. This has come as another surprise to us. The east coast is teeming with a variety of water fowl and sea birds - gulls, terns, oystercatchers, herons, cranes, eider, grebes, even white swans. Here, where one would expect to find them, there is not a bird anywhere. Even in Måseskär (literally, "seagull skerry") there was silence. I really miss the sight and sounds of the birds and quipped to Lars-Göran that it was just as well we brought our own birds with us. The errie silence only serves to reinforce the impression of Bohuslän as a cold, barren place. Beautiful, yes, but a little lifeless.




The morning produces a real pearl of a day. There is a flat sea of deep blue, a gentle azure sky filled with tiny, cottony tufts of clouds and a decent wind from the southwest that will push us towards our goal of Strömstad, Sweden's most westerly town. The sun is hot, we have the hatches open and the whole boat is filled with fresh, dry air. Suddenly life feels good again.

The waters are deep around here (about 250m) and considerably saltier than they are further south having been swept up from the Atlantic ocean. The cliffs are bare and wind swept and we enjoy a very fast couple of hours sailing from Saltö up to Strömstad, a lovely town on the Norwegian border. Being a border town, it was of course the scene of many military conflicts over time, but is best known as a nineteenth century bathing and recreation resort and the well preserved buildings in the central area reflect that age.




Fortunately, it is still early in the morning, so the harbour is relatively civilised and absolutely packed full of Norwegians. Apparently food, alcohol and cigarettes are considerably cheaper in Sweden, so thousands of Norwegians stream across the border to shop and to party and Strömstad has expanded to embrace this invasion. It seems to be a lively place, with a wide range of restaurants, pubs, discos and shopping. The main street is adorned with Norwegian flags, prices for goods are quoted in both currencies and shops even welcome payment in Norwegian kroner.




We filled the water tanks and I went shopping in town for fresh fruit and vegetables and a few essentials. It was a delightful place to wander around in, with shady parks, wide cobblestoned streets, a harbour simply teeming with life and a friendly upbeat atmosphere, enhanced by the cheerful, sing-song sound of Norwegian. I love to listen to them speak and was surprised that I actually understood some of what they were saying. We also bought a few postcards and sat by the estuary eating icecream and writing cheerful cards to our friends. Lambi of course was a huge hit!

The only slightly disappointing thing was the seafood here. Much is made of the fish rich area around the west coast and you are told that there is the chance to enjoy this bounty from the sea as part of the "Bohuslän experience". My observations from checking out the fishmongers at various places along the coast was that the fish available for purchase invariably came from somewhere else - blue mussels came from Denmark or Thailand, crab from Ireland, salmon and prawns from Norway and mackerel from Portugal or Spain. It's the same stuff I can buy in my local supermarket back in Nynäshamn!




By early afternoon, the harbour is beginning to fill up with the party gang so that is our cue to leave and look for somewhere peaceful to moor tonight. I love to visit these places but am not inclined to pay to stay there overnight as often the noise level is disturbing and none of the family likes that. So we wave goodbye to Strömstad harbour and sail about a nautical mile southwards towards a bay where we are lucky enough to find a SXK buoy which is available. Wow! In July, no less :) The view from the cockpit is also easy on the eye.




There is bugger all wind forecast for tomorrow, though it ought to be warm and sunny, so we'll stay here I think and wash all of the bedding, air out the boat and check out and rearrange our supplies. I know that some of our non-sailing friends think that when we set off on a trip like this we simple load a couple of bags of groceries on board and sail off into the sunset. The reality is very different. We are like a tiny, selfcontained community and we have to be really organised. You can't just drop into a supermarket or hardware shop at sea, so you have to be prepared to take everything with you. This involves masses of stuff from cotton buds, toilet paper, to food and spare hardware and sail components. You also need to stow it away safely, so that it will be dry, protected and easily accessible! Quite a juggling act - at which my precious husband excels. I knew I had him around for something.....