Sunshine? What was that again? I can't seem to remember.

As you can tell by the heavy sarcasm, it dawned with wind and lashing rain. Despite that, we saw miserable looking crews dressed in rubber boots and oilskins ready to brave the elements and depart. One poor boat had only gone 50 metres when an enormous rain squall hit, reducing visibility to zero and dousing them in buckets and buckets of freezing water. While watching them from the comfort of my warm boat, I was reminded of last year when we were in similar conditions outside of Fjällbacka on the west coast. Boy that was a soaking to remember and as we were also sailing downwind like these poor unfortunates, there was nowhere to seek shelter and everything got soaked (except for the pets). I knew just how they must be feeling.

Several hours later, Lars-Göran spied a sliver of blue sky appear and he determined that the worst was over and that we would also head out northwards to the next island group - Långviksskär.




While hauling up the 30 metres of anchor chain, the wind contrarily picked up (Murphy's Law again) and I felt a few rain drops, but as denial is our middle name, we convinced ourselves that it was simply a passing shower. Hmmmm... The forecast had spoken of winds around 7-10 metres a second which would have been good. Unfortunately the wind appears not to listen to the Swedish forecasters (I think we ought to follow suit) as I judged that the wind out on the open water was much stronger than that. Just off the north of Biskopsö, we measured it and saw it was gusting at over 16 metres a second - in other words building up to gale force again. We furled in sail, stowed anything not watertight, pulled our wet weather gear around us as the rain clouds massed in behind and waited for the expected drenching, which didn't disappoint. Oh well, we're still saving money on sunscreen, I guess.

We only went six nautical miles before deciding that this was madness and so I glanced over our large scale Hydrographica chart of the area and suggested we pull in to the northern part of this island group. These charts are a worthwhile purchase and we refer to them all of the time as they give such accurate detail not found on official charts. Following the chart, we found an ideal spot just where we had hoped, all alone and well protected. We anchored and perversely the rain clouds disappeared, the sun came out and everything looked beautiful.




In the afternoon, a little Viggen sailed right past us and tied to a small islet nearby. It has a much shallower draught than our boat, so they have a greater choice of mooring places than we have. The beauty with a group of islands like this is that there are so many little nooks and crannies that several boats can be moored here in tiny hidden spaces and you can feel quite private and alone.




While you can't see the detail from the map I posted above, as well as the bigger islands of Långviksskär, Söderö and Hummelskär, there are over 300 islets, rocky shoals and skerries making up this mini archipelago. One is really spoiled for choice of mooring site and there is a good chance that you can have your own private little beach, just like these people.




With the sun shining, Lars-Göran got itchy feet and so rowed to a nearby island to check out the view from the cliffs and see if they were good islands to walk around on. How different everything looked in the sunshine.




Back at the boat, it was gin and tonic time for us. We sat outside under our cockpit tent, soaking up the warmth and ambience. A couple more boats came in and moored nearby, but not close enough to really bother us at all. Tomorrow's weather forecast is for cool, windy conditions, though later in the week it promises to be fine. We decided that we may stay and look around here tomorrow and head north again the day after.

While chatting, we noticed a small motor boat come in. There appeared to be a young couple on board with two small children. Like true grumpy old farts, we hoped they would moor somewhere else. They passed us and I watched as they headed towards very shallow ground. Just as I was saying "I hope they know what they are doing", they went on ground, but not seriously so. However, it was enough to make them turn back and retrace their steps.

They passed rather close to us and suddenly I heard the sound of an anchor being hauled out and watched in surprise as the young woman flung the anchor over the side only a few metres from our boat. My first thought was "Are they mad?", but Lars-Göran, who is much more observant than I am, noticed that their motor was not running and guessed that they might be in trouble. Sure enough, the young woman called out to us that the engine had stopped and that they were drifting towards rocks in the increasing wind, adding that she couldn't get the anchor to grip. So, it was L-G to the rescue!




He motored out in the dinghy to see if he could help. The couple were in a bit of a panic as it wasn't their boat. They had borrowed it for the day, hoping to spend a night out in the archipelago with the kids. The man had jumped overboard into the freezing water to help push the boat away from the rocks (ruining his mobile phone in the process), while his wife was frantically trying to get the anchor to grip. With some difficulty Lars-Göran managed to tow their boat to a safe spot while they worked out what to do.

He checked the anchor to see why it wouldn't grip and saw that they had no idea of what they were doing. It was a collapsible grapnel type of anchor, much like this one, but one needs to set it with the grips expanded before throwing it overboard. When he showed them how it worked, then threw it in the water, it caught immediately. Then the rather embarrassed young man then saw that the reason the engine stopped was that he had inadvertently engaged the dead man's switch. Well, at least it was easy to remedy and the motor sprang to life!

They then asked where it would be good to moor their boat. Lars-Göran recommended a little sheltered inlet where they could tie easily to land. The rocks were flat there, making it an ideal spot for the kids to explore. He offered to lead them over, check the depths and attach their mooring lines. What a great guy I've married.




In the morning we had glimpses of sunshine, so we set up the tent to maximise the sun's effects and put the birds out to enjoy a little fresh air and a bit of a view. We were quite close to land and the trees on these islands were full of forest birds, twittering their little hearts out while flitting here and there. Our own birds really respond to this, which is always funny to watch.




We dressed up in windproof gear as the breeze was rather fresh and took the dinghy out for a spin to see how things looked in the southern part of the archipelago. We chose a rather meandering route, trying to stay in shallow, sheltered little shortcuts between islands rather than be out exposed on the larger waterways. It was fairly calm in here despite the wind, but we caught glimpses of the sea outside of the islands and it looked quite rough. I was glad we were not out in it. Again, we marvelled at the beautiful array of wildflowers out on the rocky cliffs. It is quite astonishing that they manage to survive here with so little soil, but they appear to thrive. The mild and wet conditions this summer seem to suit them and there is a proliferation of species. I can't recall seeing so many different flowers blooming all at once so far out in the archipelago.




In another little turn, we came to a cul-de-sac between high cliffs, ending in a serene, verdant pond. It was so damp and still in here - not a breath of wind, only a gentle lap of the water against the rocks, which themselves were draped in various types of mosses. I love moss, so I made Lars-Göran row closer to the rocks so I could stroke the lovely velvety surface.




We then started the motor and drove around to the main island, which is about a kilometer long and is the permanent home to a family who has lived here for over 200 years. The island and the family are seen as a living museum as they live by the old ways, trying to preserve a way of life and a culture that has mostly disappeared from the region.




It must be quite a lonely existence out here in the bitter winter months, with the mainland many kilometers away and only the howling wind and a few hardy seabirds for company. The family make their living by boat building, fishing, caring for livestock in the summer, running a taxiboat service, acting as rangers for the bird, seal and nature reserves in the area and offering guided tours of the archipelago.




Surprisingly enough, it was very quiet down here. The bays around the main island are usually a forest of masts in the summer with boats packed in. We speculated that maybe the less than stellar weather has kept people away from the outer archipelago and closer to the mainland. Often in rainy weather families prefer to be at guest harbours with all facilities and a town nearby to amuse the kids. We sat on the cliffs and had a bite to eat, gazing out to sea and the lighthouses in the distance. It was very relaxing.

One thing that has been on my mind lately is my friend Beth, who should have had her baby by now. Remember that anti-baby shower I went to last month? Well, her guy promised faithfully to SMS all of us when bubs was born and I've been checking my messages twice a day, waiting for news. He's normally such a responsible, reliable person that I am now worried there might be something wrong. But what ought I do? I don't want to ring them and stick my oar in where it's not wanted or needed, but I want to make sure they are all okay. After talking to Lars-Göran, I decided that if I've heard nothing by Sunday night, I'm going to ring Jodi and see if she knows what is going on.

Fingers crossed that I'm just being a worry wart.