At last, a dry and sunny day! Yes, it is still bitingly cold, but the sky is blue, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and best of all we have the perfect wind direction for our journey back into the familiar waters of the Stockholm archipelago. Yay for us. We quickly got everything in order and raised sails and joined the throng of boats, who also seemed to have the same idea as us. Who can blame them, as they must have all been suffering from cabin fever these last few days when the foul weather made sailing a less than inviting thought, except for masochists. Even the birds began flying around, now that the gale force winds have departed eastwards.




This is yet another heron. I'm amazed to have seen so many of these normally shy birds this year. We have been jokingly adopting a bored, eye-rolling, yawning expression when we see a heron, but the truth is that we can never get enough of these graceful birds and we do enjoy seeing them in increasing numbers. The same applies for the magnificent sea eagles that we have also been seeing in increasing numbers. Not so long ago, they were in decline and seriously threatened by high levels of PCBs in their environment. A concerted effort to improve this has resulted in them once again nesting along the coastal waters.

The sailing was really enjoyable. The only pity was that we are still having to be so rugged up - IN JULY! Am I never going to dispense with long sleeves this year? It felt good to be back on very familiar ground, spoiled for choice about where to anchor for the night. We decided to keep sailing until we felt like stopping, so we managed a quite respectable 25 nautical miles before calling it a day in Solmansviken, a very sheltered little lagoon just across the water from our old home town of Nynäshamn. (It feels really strange to say "our old home"...)




The evening was long and sunny and we lazed around sipping on wine and glancing at the charts trying to decide where to go next. I voted for following the wind and choosing places based on the best wind direction. With that in mind, we ought to head roughly north east tomorrow. There are many places we could stop at depending on how good the winds are and how we feel in ourselves. We thought about Utö (if it's not too crowded), Fjärdlång, Biskopsö ("Bishop's Island" thus the appalling pun in this post's title!) or maybe even further if we felt so inclined.

The morning was bright and sunny, though the winds were only about 4 m/s, so it looked like the closer destination of Utö or thereabouts might be a good goal. Lars-Göran was obviously feeling the benefits of a little sunshine and he suggested hoisting our light wind gennaker. It's always a little amusing to watch him set this up, as despite marking the corners of the sail, he still manages to hoist it upside down and even sideways! Today though, it hoisted like a dream and we were quickly out on the water gliding along beautifully.




We reached Utö and still felt like continuing, so we did so. The sky began to cloud over and rain threatened, so we drew in the light wind sail and instead hoisted the main and rolled out a bit of foresail and continued through the narrow strait at the top of Utö and out into the outer archipelago. Of course, just as we were approaching the narrowest, shallowest bit of the passage, with boats coming at us from all directions, Fiona decided to really put on some speed and despite reducing the foresail to a bare minimum and releasing the wind from the main, we still screamed through the opening at 7 knots. I had my eyes closed!

With the clouds and drizzle coming in, the journey became a little boring as visibility was reduced. It was much quieter out here than in the middle archipelago, so we thought that there may not be too many people at Biskopsö and headed in that direction. I looked at our books of nature harbours and found a chart to help us navigate in the shallow waters around this island. Just outside of Vellinge, we saw this couple wrapped in rugs and fast asleep on the rocks. When we first sighted them, they looked as though they were dead bodies. Doesn't look much like summer sunbathing, does it?




It was starting to blow quite strongly now and the wind was extremely cold, so we were grateful that after 30 nautical miles, we came to to the narrow passage that signified the entrance to Biskopsö. While our bay was still a little way inside the island group, we were hoping for some shelter from waves and the worst of the wind behind these heavily forested isles. It was quite stressful to be in unknown waters trying to navigate in very tight spots when the wind was so strong. The rocks were very close...




In fact we DID hit a rock with a mighty bang, but I promised Lars-Göran that I wouldn't mention it, so just forget I said anything.

While it doesn't look far "as the crow flies" to come from the entrance to the little lagoon where we thought to moor, it is actually quite a zig-zag route backwards and forwards because of the many shoals. We could see several masts already in the distance, so we knew we'd not be alone and as we approached and the cloud lifted, we saw the moored boats bathed in golden evening light.




We were happy to see that all of the boats here were tied up to land and that the little spot in the middle of the lagoon, just big enough for one boat, was free. Yes! By now it was getting on towards evening and we were the last boat to come in, providing entertainment for the assembled crews. We were determined not to provide any laughs, so we carefully checked the depths and laid anchor in the middle right next to a small rocky ledge. It is a little un-Swedish of us to eschew the apparent "joys" of tying the boat to land and setting up a grill on the cliffs with the others, but we much prefer a civilised warm meal eaten under cover, with our only neighbour a curious little black-headed gull.




In the morning, Lars-Göran rowed to land with our still wet light wind sail and spread it out on the cliffs to dry. Gradually as the morning progressed, the assembled boats left one at a time until we were the only boat left in the little lagoon. It seemed a perfect time to explore in peace before the next lot of boats began to arrive in the afternoon. It was sunny, though a little cool and hazy, with a biting wind that cut right through you. Still, when you look at the scene, it looks like a perfect summer day.




Each time I look at the pictures we took today, I can see how deceptive they are. You'd swear it was 28C with a gentle breeze. I think you'll agree that the beauty of these islands makes upo somewhat for the cool temperatures. It really is very serene and quite lovely. The next picture looks across the rocks to the entrance where we came in (a gap in the trees between two islands). It's hard to convey just what a snaking route it took us to get here. Oh God, did someone say snake? *shudder*




While I had always been curious about these islands, I doubt we would have attempted this with just the charts. It looks completely impassable, so if it wasn't for the coastal guides describing the nature harbours (we like to use Åke Améen's Naturhamnar på ostkusten and Lars Granath's Arholma-Landsort - also available in English) we would hesitate about attempting to moor here and thus miss out on all of this beauty.




While we were having breakfast outside, we saw that the local gulls and terns were busy fishing. It is fascinating to watch each species' particular techniques from the elegant gulls gliding in a holding pattern to the energetic dive bombing exploits of the terns. Just wonderful.

After a short time, a gull came up with a fish and quickly ferried it away to a rock ledge to gobble it up. In no time at all, a couple of "fairweather friends" strolled by with that "I just happened to be passing and couldn't help noticing that you had food" look on their faces. I know this look well from living with a dog whose number one interest in life is food.




Pretty soon, a kind of pecking order was set up and one could see that it really was birds of a feather who flocked together, because when the pretty and much smaller black-faced gull sought to join in the feast, it was informed in no uncertain terms that this was strictly Mew Gull gathering and they certainly didn't want any interlopers.




We loaded up the dinghy with morning tea and rowed off to land at Finnskär, intending to hike up to the sea marker we saw at the top of a hill, reasoning that the view ought to make the climb worthwhile. And it did. The only slight hiccup was seeing a snake, that Lars-Göran was almost sure was the harmless one. I wonder why I was not totally reassured by that "almost sure"...

Anyway, I did get over it without too much hysteria and we could sit at the base of the marker (out of the wind, förstås!) and look at the maze of rocks below us in all directions.




Before we came up here, I had no idea that boat was even there "around the corner" and we wondered how they had managed to get there, determined to look it up on the charts when we got back to the boat.

Not all of the islands are so full of foliage. To the east, the islands are much more bare. We are right out on the very outer edge of the archipelago here and beyond this point there is no more land until you reach another country.




From up here we could also see Fiona happily moored in the flad. It's funny how she looks like she is out in the open from up here, but seen from the perspective on the boat, she seems much nearer to land. This is a landscape that I love and look forward to visiting.




Looking towards the north west we could see that the first of the afternoon boats had made its way into the entrance. You can see the sails from here framed against the greenery of the main island (Biskopsö). I noticed that they may be locals as they came in at quite a speed. certainly much faster than we dared to. Or maybe we are chickens. Anyway, I hope they are prepared for the fun game of dodge the rocks. I'm guessing that they will have to reduce sail fairly smartly so they have a little more fine control. The wind is quite brisk and it is so easy to go aground in these waters as you can see.




As the boat made its way towards our bay, we focused on the houses on the island. These islands are owned by a private foundation and are a nature and bird sanctuary. There is only one family on the island who act as park rangers and they live here all year round. I remember reading about them in Malcolm Hanes and Staffan Sjöberg's excellent book Utskärsfolket. It sounded like quite an isolated and spartan existence when they first came here in 1944 - no comforts at all and grinding poverty. Things are a little easier these days with motor boats to get them to the mainland for supplies and since 2003 they have had electricity. I couldn't believe that it took until 2003 to get something so basic in an apparently civilised country. Still, they must love the life here.




After a time, the boat we had seen come in was making its way towards where we were moored. See, I was right - they had to take down the sails and motor along very carefully. As a precaution, one of the crew members (and I wonder why it is always the woman?) is standing at the fore watching through the clear water for any rocks.




We had thought to wait until they were moored before we went back, but they were taking 1,000 years to decide what they were doing. They anchored a dozen times here and there, always deciding at the last minute that they didn't like it, or the anchor dragged, or the boat didn't reach land. I think it was fairly obvious that this was a charter boat as they were completely clueless. We got tired of watching them fart arse around, so swe walked along the rocky shore admiring the pretty wildflowers.




We prepared to go back to the boat and just as we did, in one of Lars-Göran's brilliant bit of bad timing, a big powerful RIB pulled into the bay from the south. It was full of people who we thought might be on one of those fast tours of the region. As I looked closer, I saw they were filming - they filmed Fiona, they turned and filmed us in our dinghy and just as I was wondering wtf?, I saw that the boat was a from The Swedish Sea Rescue Society. All I could think was "thank goodness we were all wearing life jackets". Rowing closer (because, let's face it, we are a couple of nosey parkers) we could hear that they were filming a tv commercial. Wow, fame and stardom at last!




Or maybe not. Who can tell? But just in case, I'm practicing my autograph.

The wind is picking up even more, the clouds are moving in and rain is falling. We talked about this and still remain surprised by the sustained period of gusty, cold conditions. I can only hope that it will quit soon and send us proper Swedish summer soon. It's funny that after last year's hot, dry conditions in Stockholm, everyone was talking like we were about to become the new Spain. Yeah, right! Perhaps mother nature has a sense of humour, because she is certainly having a joke at Sweden's expense.

All things considered, we are still happy to be out in this beautiful environment. We lounged the evening away, checking the charts for a possible move tomorrow, cooking up a a batch of aromatic fresh bread (I love my pressure cooker!) and generally chilling out. And thinking positive thoughts for sunshine, sunshine, sunshine for the next few weeks.