As I indicated last time, we left Mon and headed northwards back along the route we have already followed to get here. It may seem a bit of a backward step, but the weather forecasts for the southern part of Sweden are pretty grim, with cloud cover, wind and rain, rain, rain for the foreseeable future. Last summer we were stuck in the south around Skåne and Blekinge for a whole month in similar conditions while the Stockholm archipelago basked in the hottest, driest summer for many years. We don't intend to make that mistake again, so we are following the weather systems as much as possible this year.

We spent the first day weaving through the rocky islets of St Anna, trying to decide where to moor for the night. As it is now July, the nature harbours are soon full of boats and the trick is to avoid the more popular places and try and find your own private little slice of paradise. We studied the charts and mentally noted several possibilities and set out to check them all out. We made a lucky strike with the first little island group where there seemed to be just us and the nesting seagulls (don't worry, we gave them a wide berth and opted to drop anchor rather than disturb them by tying up to the shore). Several seagulls were gracefully gliding overhead while their mates eyed us suspiciously from the shore. I love seagull attitude. When I stood on deck, I could feel the gentle touch of the peaceful sea breeze. A pair of wild ducks were swimming around the boat and everything felt so wonderful. I do love the summer here although the downside is that one also has to undergo the dark winter!




Many islands in the archipelago have names that describe their function, their appearance or ownership. These are old names and date from the times when written charts were not available and most of the illiterate population had simple, local names for their area. So you often find islands such as Meadow Island, Sheep Island, The Milking Island, Bird Island etc to illustrate what these island were used for by the local inhabitants. Other islands may resemble something so they got a name like Whale Island, Maiden Island. Others have names like Håkan's Islet or The Priest's Isle because of a local person's connection to that place. In fact you often find the same names appearing again and again as you wander up and down the coast.

So where am I headed with all of this rambling? Well, I was not 100% happy about coming here as these islands are called The Snake Islands (Ormöarna)! Lars-Göran chose to laugh at me and spend his time creeping up behind me and hissing. But knowing that islands usually have a name for some particular reason, I felt very uneasy about these ones and studied the chart hoping that perhaps they were snake shaped. Hmmm, as much as I wanted it to be true, even my overactive imagination couldn't stretch that far.




As other boats arrived and began to tie up to the shore I watched and waited for a bloodbath. Lars-Göran was really cracking up at my nervousness. But what can I do? I come from a land where most of the top ten most venomous snakes in the world live. Aussie snakes are not to be taken lightly and all of us brought up in Australia learn at a very early age to be very wary of snakes and to stay out of their way. Add to that a strict Catholic upbringing with the holy pictures of the Virgin Mary crushing "the evil satan in the form of a snake" and you can see that it is powerful indoctrination. After fifty years, it's a hard habit to break, especially when I don't entirely trust Lars-Göran's blithe assurances. He claims that there are only two snakes in Sweden - both are black, only (in his words) "the poisonous one is all black and harmless one has yellow markings on its head. Or is it the other way around?"

Oh yes, VERY reassuring! I'd dearly love to go exploring, especially as it is a beautiful day. It is so tempting with the water interspersed with land everywhere you look and sailing boats all around it really is idyllic - just a wonderful summer scene in perfect conditions. Except for that snake in paradise!




The following morning was again a sensational day and we all enjoyed our breakfast out in the cockpit. Well we enjoyed it until someone mentioned to me that one of the Swedish snakes can swim! Not welcome news at all. The grass snake, (snok in Swedish or Natrix natrix in Latin), likes to swim, indeed the Latin name means "swimmer". The good news is that it is not venomous. The bad news is that I'm not sure if it's the all black one or the black and yellow one! I think I've lost my appetite.




Later on, Lars-Göran tried to convince me to take a trip in the dinghy, assuring me that if we saw a snake in the water it would be harmless. I wondered if there were any stray anacondas here or is it too cold? I know I sound like a complete wuss, but I HATE snakes - for no logical reason I know, but I do. He even promised not to hiss, so I agreed to row around a bit, but not to go on land. He told me that the other snake found in Sweden (huggorm), is a type of adder and while it has venom, its bite can hurt but not kill. Unless you are a mouse. "Hmmmm...." I said "maybe I am part mouse - I eat cheese after all!" He just shook his head and wandered off to get the dinghy ready.




It was funny to look up and see the tops of sails drifting by on the other side of the rocky cliffs. There were a lot of boats out and at times the horizon was thick with white, billowing sails. The contrast with the bare, colourful cliffs and the glittering blue sea was quite spectacular.




These islands form a nice little ring and give you protection from a wide variety of winds. The waters are very shallow in most places, so there are few anchoring spots, though the smooth rocks make it very inviting for those who like to sunbathe or just enjoy relaxing and watching the passing boat parade. I found the rocks here particularly fascinating with a wide variety of colours, patterns and textures. It was enough to overcome my rampant ophidiophobia and agree to venture to land.




From the top of the rocks the views across the water were worth the climb. Small islets dotted the water across to the mainland far in the distance. The sky was beginning to cloud over from the west as the afternoon summer thunderstorms threatened, but even that added to the beauty of the scene. We sat at the top of the rocks just enjoying the sultry warmth and listening to the sounds of nature.




To the east, the skies were still blue and the sun shone down on the extraordinary variety of wildflowers on display. There were dozens of varieties of tiny, colourful flowers wherever we looked. I have made a promise to buy a book of Swedish flowers so that I can identify what they all are. They provide a softening effect to the harshness of the rocks and it amazes me that they can flourish in such a bleak and exposed place.




Out on the main route the boats continue on their journey southwards in the brisk northwesterly wind. It feels good to have no real plans or appointments, so that we can just stop here and there as the mood takes us. The islets here are very pretty and wonderful to explore.




We were quite alone up on our eyrie, looking down on all of those passing by. Later in the day we were joined by a hopeful seagull, intent on trying to souvenir any part of our lunch that we cared to share with him/her. How do you tell the difference between the sexes, I wonder? These birds are so beautiful, even though I know they are scavengers. I love their neat, perfect colours and their grace when gliding on the thermals. Of course, their table manners leave something to be desired!




We sat back and enjoyed the sounds of the gulls, the water slapping against the cliffs and the sound of the wind rustling through the island's birch trees. We wondered what it must be like to live out here all year round. I know how tempting it is to romanticise life in the archipelago on an idyllic summer's day, but I'm sure that it is tough to be out here on a more permanent basis. While I love it here, I also enjoy the comforts of civilisation and the ready access to shops, libraries and company. But on a day like today, one can drift and dream in the sunshine.




When we returned to the boat, I noticed that there were a family of terns on a small rock near Fiona. These little birds are really tough and have no qualms about chasing off the much bigger gulls and crows from their little rock. Both parents were kept busy guarding their territory and furnishing a steady supply of fish for their hungry offspring, who looked cute and fluffy while toddling around the rock. What a sweet little ball of fluff.




It's been a relaxing couple of days here, but we need to move on as the weather is set to worsen tomorrow and we need to aim as far north as we can to catch the sunshine. Ironically, the far north of Sweden is enjoying a proolonged dry, sunny period and is the best place at the moment to be. It's too far away for us, but hopefully the Stockholm archipelago may experience a repeat of last year's conditions and that would bring a big smile to my face. Now it's gin and tonic time