Time to move on and so we top up our water tanks and prepare to set sails for the 20 nautical mile trip across the bay to the outlying island group of Hallands Väderö.

On the way out of the harbour, we had a better chance to look around and noted how different it looked in broad daylight. When we came in here in the pitch black the other night, it was more or less via blind faith. We merely followed in a cargo ship, figuring that if he could fit through, so could we. There was so many different lights shining that it had been hard to sort out which were lighthouses or buoys and which were just harbour lights. Very confusing at the time, but so much clearer today. Of course a decent scale chart might have helped, too. I must ask Lasse about that.

The sail across was strange - the seas constantly changed directions, the sun shone then disappeared behind swirling clouds, the wind was flaky and couldn't make up it's mind whether to blow or not. We faced a constant battle to increase sail, decrease sail, start the motor, stop the motor, sail straight, try tacking etc that it became quite a battle. Fiona is also sailing very slowly at the moment, so we really are going to have to check her bottom for barnacle growth. Let's hope we will have a warm day tomorrow so I can nominate Lars-Göran to dive under and check the hull.

I was really nervous as we approached the island group and sought shelter as these islands are full of reefs, but we took it slowly, used the chart on our GPS and soon found ourselves in a popular bay with several other boats - all foreign!




Hallands Väderö, despite its name lies not in Halland, but rather in north west Skåne. It's possible that back in the mists of time when this was Danish territory, this area was also part of Halland. No-one really remembers the reason for that name anymore. The island is 3.2 km long and only 650 meters wide and has quite a varied terrain, being made up of woods, marshland, open pasture and rocky beaches. There are a couple of sand beaches on the other side of the island, which we hope to explore - wind permitting. The other added advantage of being out here is that very little rain falls and it has the second highest average temperature in Sweden.




Because the winds are blowing from the north west today, we are in Kappelhamn, on the south east corner of the island. I'd really like to visit the lighthouse, which of course is furthest away from where we are. Still, it's only just over 3 kilometres to walk - far less than what we had to do in Falkenberg!

It is lovely and warm today and more and more boats arrive from Torekov, on the mainland. Many of those are daytrippers and the traffic going past is almost constant. We have set up shelter and the birds are sunning themselves and sqawking at the passing boats, which is a real hit with the kids. Lars-Göran did dive under the boat and reports that, as we expected, there is quite a lot of growth on the hull. He scraped some of it away, but it looks like she will need to be hauled out to really clean her properly.

The next day, the early morning forecast predicted that the wind would turn to the south west, so before breakfast, we moved the boat around to Sandhamn. We decided to take the zodiac into land after Lars-Göran looked through his binoculars and spotted a kiosk on the island - and that means ICECREAM.

We bought his precious icecream and followed the well marked trail around to the lighthouse. It was a fascinating walk, taking us through the woods, along the coast, over marshes and across open grassland. As it was a hot day and poor Lambi is really feeling the heat in her old age, we enjoyed the shady woods the best. They were full of wood anemones and small groups of grazing sheep. We also ran into a group of very curious horses.




They were really eager to investigate Lambi. Obviously they had never seen a fluffy white dog before and they were utterly fascinated, following her and staring really closely and intently, which freaked her out a bit. Luckily, pappa was there to pick her up and protect her from the horses. What a softie he is!

After a long, hot trudge, we came to the north west corner of the island and saw the lovely red cottage that used to be the lighthouse keeper's home. This was surrounded by a herd of contentedly grazing cows. The lighthouse was manned from 1887 until 1965 and the keeper and his family lived here all year round. Today has been converted into small apartments that are rented out to summer guests. What a fabulous location and a beautiful view.




A mere 250m further along was the lighthouse itself, sitting on Bagganäsan and pointing out across the waters of Kattegatt. When you look at the calm, summer waters you can hardly believe that a lighthouse would be needed here. But in fact, during a severe storm in 1884, five ships went down off this coast with the loss of all lives and this tragedy was the catalyst for the erection of a lighthouse. A thirteen meter iron structure was built in Stockholm, then shipped here to this isolated, windswept spot in pieces and bolted together.




As with the lighthouses at Nord Koster, Måseskär and Nidingen which we passed earlier in the summer, Hallands Väderö is another weather station mentioned in the daily wind reports we get on our VHF, thanks to our subscription to Stockholm Radio. It's been interesting to visit all of these places and put a "face to a name" so to speak.




We took a different route back to the zodiac and this brought us out onto a sandy beach which was packed with summer guests. Many of them streamed over on ferries from the mainland, loaded down with picnic baskets, kids, dogs and even strollers. I'd never seen anyone pushing a stroller on the beach before. Fiona is one of the boats moored happily in the bay.




It really is an outstanding view from the island, looking across the water to the mainland. The coastline you can see is Hallandsåsen, an imposing 200m high ridge that dominates the border area between the provinces of Halland and Skåne. It is a unique landscape in Sweden, so unlike anything I've seen here to date. I could almost believe that we are in another country. The air is really warm, the breeze is balmy and the water is warm. No wonder it is such a popular place for family holidays.




The final stretch through the flower filled woods was like stepping into another world - a real, storybook forest. I looked around expecting to see Goldilocks come skipping by on her way to the bears' home or perhaps Little Red Riding Hood stopping to pick a bunch of wildflowers on her way to see her grandma. Quite beautiful.

We returned to the boat quite rejuvenated and sat outside sunning ourselves and looking at some of the boats around us. One Danish boat made us laugh as the crew sat on these ridiculous seats built in to the aft of the boat. We called them "knob chairs" as they looked like a couple of idiots sitting high up surveying the peasants around them. Though in this pose, she looks like she's on the loo - it reminded me of the strange medieval toilet we saw at Läckö Slott.




We don't normally bitch about those around us, but these two were among the most thoughtless, selfish people I have come across. Every day they started their motor in order to charge their batteries. Quite why you would need to do that every day is something of a mystery - were they growing dope in there? Anyway, as soon as they started the motor, they hopped in their dinghy and went to land where they stayed for three or four hours, leaving the engine running. I guess they didn't want to be annoyed by the noise and the diesel fumes - what a pity that the other dozen boats moored around them had to put up with it. Talk about completely clueless! What a pity this wasn't somewhere in the Med where trheives would have stolen the boat as soon as they were out of sight. By day three, even I was sorely tempted....

Next day, the wind shifted back to north, so we nipped around the corner back to the bay at Kappelhamn where the waters were calm and still. This time we went for a walk around this part of the island, which was more marshy than the northern part.




The wind sweeps across these more open plains and the fields were dotted with grazing animals. It was quite a contrast to the woods we saw yesterday and also to the more rocky beaches. It is easy to understand why they call this place "Skåne's west coast archipelago in minature" - it really is it's own little world.

Several of the rocky islands offshore are in a seal protection zone and apparently support about 400 seals, though I didn't see any of them while we were here. We did however see several types of birds, including one of our favourites - sädesärla (pied wagtail).




These busy, delicate little birds, instantly recognisable with their bold black, grey and white plumage and long, frequently wagged tail are always a joy to watch. They approach quite close as well and we even have them visiting the boat and resting on the rails. They were not the only visitors we had. Lambi managed to collect no less than FIVE ticks while she was walking on land, which is unbelievable. I thank god that she is white, so the little buggers are easy to spot before they get a grip on her. *shudder*




We have enjoyed three restful days on this enchanted island, walking around, breathing in the clean, fresh air and marvelling at the beautiful surroundings. This will be the last island group we can visit until we get to Blekinge on the east coast. From now onwards, down the 400 kilometres of sandy beaches which makes up the coast of Skåne we will have to stay in harbours. While I will miss the freedom of being able to lie by anchor in my own little world, I am looking forward to seeing some of the towns in southern Sweden. All being well, we set sail tomorrow towards Kullen lighthouse and beyond.

Denial is such a wonderful thing, isn't it?

Last night, in the spirit of that superb sunset and the appearance of the most spectacular full moon, we relaxed with a glass of wine and only listened with half a mind to the weather forecast. They had promised a windshift to south east, which would send waves across the bay and straight to where were were moored out in the open. "But it's only going to be four metres per second" we thought. "We'll be fine".

Famous last words or what?

By 1.30am we were rocking violently in the increasing waves. They don't call this place Little Biscay for nothing. I thought we were going to be thrown out of bed, so in the pitch black we had to get up, batten down the hatches, secure the bird cage and prepare to head in to a sheltered harbour. Our first pyjamas åkning!

This was perhaps not the best time to discover that we were missing one chart - number 923 to be specific. You know..... the one for this bit of coastline. We had loaned our charts last year to a friend who was picking up a boat in Göteborg and I hadn't checked them thoroughly to see whether they were all there when he returned them. Oops.....

The chart would have given us a detailed map of the harbour at Halmstad. We were moored between Grötvik and Halmstad, so the waves were sweeping across the whole bay to just this point. We have an electronic chart of the area and a ship's pilot guide with a black and white line drawing of the harbour area, so I hauled them up into the cockpit to look at them and started the motor while Lars-Göran went to the fore to draw up the anchor.

It wasn't cold, though the wind was starting to blow strongly. We had discussed the way we were going to do this as it required team work and you know, it went without a hitch and soon we were loose and I was driving towards the lights of the harbour (not easy to pick out among all of the other lights in the town!). Lars-Göran hurried back to the cockpit and took over the driving, assuring me that it was "a piece of cake" to get into the harbour (Hamnen är lätt att hitta även utan navigationshjälpmedel)

Hmmm..... where have I heard that before?

We found the shipping channel and turned towards land, scanning the shore for the harbour's leading light. I had noticed a boat behind us (at 2am??) and saw that it was gaining rapidly, so I mentioned it to Lars-Göran. He hadn't seen it at all as he was so intent on driving and trying to find the entrance and he got a shock when he turned and saw an enormous cargo ship bearing down on us. He made a large turn to get out of the way and as it passed, I couldn't resist saying "Follow that ship!" as it would of course lead us straight into the harbour. Which it did.

We had no idea where anything was in this harbour, so we found a temporary spot near the mast crane and tied up for the night, awakening the next day to this view.




What a fabulous contrast between the old and the new, with the grain silos and timber piled up on the piers and these elegant sailing ships gliding by. In daylight, we could see the harbour really well and we moved the boat to a bay near the boat club, exactly opposite this pier and dropped anchor. I thought after the crazy night we had, a lazy day would be in order, so I stripped the beds and washed the sheets, towels etc setting them up to dry in the warm sunshine. I had planned to spend the day reading my book (Dai Sijie's Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress), lazing on the deck under my umbrella with a cool drink. But that was interrupted when another gorgeous sailing ship came into view.




WE both wondered what was going on up river. I looked at my guest harbour guide and saw that this week, Halmstad was hosting the international Baltic Sail Festival which featured several of these gracious old sailing vessels. Well, we had to go and see what it was all about, didn't we?

We put the motor on the zodiac and motored up the Nissan River and into Halmstad itself, where the festival was in full swing. The boats are often chartered out during the day, so many of them were headed out into the bay with paying guests on board. We thought we may have a look at the town again while we were here and while the weather held.

This lovely town dates back to the thirteenth century and had lovely wide streets and boulevards. I believe that in the middle ages it was the biggest town on the west coast, though today, with 90,000 inhabitants it is no longer a metropolis. There are some beautiful buildings on the river, including the castle (now the tourist bureau, no less) built in the 17th century by King Christian IV of Denmark.




I love the warm colours of this building and the towers with their interesting curved rooftops pointing up into the clear blue sky. In the main square, where the weekly market was in full swing lies the beautiful medieval church of St Nikolai. A devestating fire in 1619 razed most of Halmstad and this church was one of few buildings that survived the fire.




The town was really buzzing today, with many, many visitors crowding the streets and squares and sounds of eating, drinking and laughter echoing around the many cafés and restaurants. It is a happy place and there is a great, friendly atmosphere here. Neither of us particularly likes crowded, stressful places but we felt quite at ease in Halmstad. People were smiling and friendly and the pace was fast, but not pushy and frantic like it can be in Stockholm.




We had been to Halmstad in November five years ago on our journey home with "Fiona". We came here to escape a huge autumn storm that was about to hit and stayed several days on that occasion. While we were here, we had bought some waterproof gloves and warm boots for me (badly needed and much appreciated) and we had been impressed with the town and all that it offers.

In the main shopping street, we noticed that every shoe shop was having a sale. Could we possibly buy more shoes here? We spent an enjoyable afternoon looking at the shops (yes, we bought shoes!), checking out the books on sale at the Salvo's shop (what a bargain!), finding some decent sunglasses for Lars-Göran (not before time!), buying and writing postcards and eating icecream. We tramped all over town and returned, loaded up with parcels, to our zodiac which was tied up to a ledge on the river bank.




We were tired, but very happy with today's haul and thought we could come back up the river in the morning to see some more of the boats.

The following day, it was overcast and drizzly and we spent the morning onboard making plans and enjoying the parade of fine sailing ships that went past us at regular intervals. I think we must have had the best seat in the house!




The boats were from several different countries and we noticed flags from Holland, Germany, Denmark, Lithuania, Poland as well as the blue and gold of Sweden. The schooners simply glided past so gracefully that it was a pleasure to sit there and admire them.




When they came back into port in the afternoon, we cranked up the zodiac again and went up the river to see them all lined along the bank, with the timber masts arranged like a big forest of trees. People were visiting the boats and reading their history from plaques that were arranged on boards at each morring place. Most of them began life as working boats - tug boats, cargo ships, herring luggers etc and have been lovingly restored by their owners and used these days as pleasure boats. I read on a couple of the boards that they even had a jacuzzi!




On the opposite bank, right outside of the tourist office, the beautiful old school ship "Najaden", lies berthed. She is a permanent fixture here in Halmstad. She was built as a training ship by the Swedish navy in Karlskrona and launched in 1897. She was used as a fully rigged training ship until 1938 and afterwards was bought by a Halmstad businessman and used as a tourist attraction for the city.




Even though it was cool and overcast, the view looking down the river towards the harbour was lovely. We have the busy guest harbour in the foreground, the sight of the awe inspiring sailing ships behind them and far in the distance, the storage silos, which can be seen from far out at sea, like skyscrapers rising from the landscape. It is a study in contrasts from various ages.




The Dutch ships were particularly dominant and seemed to go out with passengers more often than the others. The shore was lined with enthusiasts waiting to watch the passing parade and we never tired of seeing these boats go by. What a stroke of luck to have been here while this festival was going on. It has fired us with real enthusiasm for the Tall Ship's festival to be held in Stockholm next year. Remember Bethy, we are tying up to your lovely boat on Strandvägen for that!




What a lovely, restful and fun couple of days we have had in Halmstad. We are thinking of leaving in the morning and heading for a small island group out off the edge of this bay. You just can't keep us away from islands, can you? The only slightly worrying thing is that we have no paper chart for the area. We have an overview chart, that you need a strong magnifying glass to see in detail, though we do have the electronic chart. I shouldn't worry, but I like to see the paper chart and be able to plot the course and see the rocks. But Lars-Göran is confident and declares it "a piece of cake".

Oh dear.....

It is another glorious summer morning with hardly a breeze inside the harbour area. We had an early night last night, so we found ourselves wide awake at sparrow's fart. Nothing was stirring, not even the moat monster, as we sat in the cockpit eating our breakfast and contemplating the day ahead while the sun rose in a clear blue sky. I love this time of day, having been a morning person from way back. I always bounce out of bed, ready for the day, bright and chirpy. This often throws poor Lars-Göran who needs a slow start and several jolts of pure caffeine before his brain engages.

Fortunately, we filled up with water and diesel last night, so all we have to make up our minds about is whether we will shop here then continue down the Halland coast, or sail first, then shop at our next stop. I studied the guides and coastal register we have onboard, measured distances, listened to the forecast (nice, hot day with bugger all wind) and decided that Falkenberg seemed to be the obvious next port. As our guide described it as having a small town's charm and the guest harbour was apparently up a river close to centrum and they appeared to have a large supermarket and booze shop it was perfect for our needs. Lars-Göran, who was still half asleep agreed readily, thinking that the trip would give him a bit of time to wake up.

The coastline around here is aften seen as a boring transport stretch, with no archipelago, miles and miles of open beaches, few harbours and where Kattegatt's waves come crashing towards you from all directions. I should explain that the North Sea changes names from Skagerrak to Kattegatt just south of Göteborg as you can see on this map.




How it came to have this name is probably not a story for polite company, but then I'm sure you won't be offended if I tell you. Just don't tell Sister Margaret that you heard it from me! Kattegat apparently derives from the Dutch words Kat (cat) and Gat (hole). It began in medieval times, where sea captains spoke disparagingly of this area as being "as narrow as a cat's hole". I guess they were possibly referring to the area around Helsingborg, which is a very narrow passage, at just a tad under four kilometres wide. Sailors are well-known for their use of, shall we say, "colourful language", so one might paraphrase them and announce that the Kattegat is considered the anus of the Baltic. In this, they are similar to the port of Melbourne, which my uncles who were fishermen in the area, always referred to as "the arsehole of Australia", because of the shape of Port Phillip Bay (among other reasons...)

We began the day driving by motor, but a little later a breeze arrived and we could sail a perfect course towards Falkenberg, which lay around 25 nautical miles to our south. It was a tough day for everyone on board *grin*




We were lucky enough to have sufficent wind to sail up the river Ätran, right to the guest harbour. It was late in the afternoon when we finally arrived and we set off for town straight away despite the heat. While supermarkets stay open until quite late in the evening, the grog shop would shut at 6pm. Now according to the guide I had, the shopping area was described as being "på promenadavstånd" (walking distance) from the guest harbour. Well, perhaps it might be if your name was Robert Korzeniowski! But for us mere mortals, it turned into a nightmare trip.

To begin with, it was around a kilometre and a half just to get to the bridge in order to cross the river.




Lambi found the 30C heat far too much and we had to make frequent stops to give her water and let her rest in the shade, even taking turns to carry her. Once over bridge, we came to the older part of town with lovely wooden houses dating from the mid eighteenth century. Under normal circumstances we would have loved to stop and admire them, but we were pressed for time and thought we may quickly shop and then take an evening stroll later on and admire the surroundings.




The main part of town was starting to come into view and we walked another kilometre along the streets, which were an interesting blend of old and new, but we could see no sign of a supermarket nor of systemet and time was ticking on. In the main drag, there were shops selling every conceivable thing except food and wine! We were getting hot, tired and annoyed as each minute passed and muttered curses at the people who had written in the guest harbour guides that centrum was "nearby". Obviously nearby can mean anything from a few metres up till five kilometres.




Eventually we asked someone where these shops might be hiding. They explained the complicated way to get to the wine shop and I left Lars-Göran to extract the rest of the information while I dashed there before closing time. We met outside and he said that apparently there were no supermarkets in centrum (the first time I've struck this in Sweden) and so we would have to walk another kilometre or two out into the suburbs to shop. Poor Lambi was melting by this stage, so I suggested he go back with her to the boat and I'd shop myself and join them later, but he thought it wasn't a good idea and so we went on together. As it turned out, that was wise as I would never have found the place myself as it was very well hidden!

I bought everything I needed, loaded up my trusty granny-trolley and we set off for the boat. Lars-Göran, in a fit of male stupidity, was sure there must be a shorter way and proceeded to lead us on a very scenic but LONG route back to the river, along the bank, up side streets, past barriers that had been set up for a jazz festival etc. By this time I was ready to drop on the spot and die, but somehow we managed to stagger back on board - at nearly 8pm!




I had already prepared most of dinner and it finished cooking while I stood under a welcome shower and washed the dust from my poor weary body and Lars-Göran enjoyed a cold beer. Needless to say, there was no casual evening walk.

The following day was also hot and clear with no wind, but we had had enough of the joys of Falkenberg and set off bright and early. Like yesterday, we went by motor at forst, then we were able to raise the sails as the breeze picked up and we glided by the shore, enjoying the pretty coastline.




After weeks of looking at the bare rocks of Bohuslän, the coastline of Halland with its rich agricultural land dotted with lighthouses, wind power stations and tilled fields makes a lovely change. There is a gentleness about the landscape that contrasts with the rugged coastline north of here, though looks can be deceptive and this area of Sweden has been subject to violent wars during its history.




The pretty windmill in this photo is called Särdals kvarn and lies just above the harbour of Skallkroken. It was a working grain mill until the late 1960s, though now it is a listed building and houses an outlet specialising in local produce. It is also a wonderful sea marker.




It is even warmer today than it was yesterday and the beaches are packed with people. From our boat, they look like colourful pebbles on the shore and when I look at them through my binoculars, it teems like a colony of ants. It is interesting to see the beaches from this angle, with the wheatfields in the background and cows grazing in the meadows. It reminded me of the countryside around the beaches on the south coast of Adelaide like Willunga and Aldinga.




We passed the hotel at Tylösand and they seemed to be enjoying a bumper season, with people lining the shores and frolicking in the water as well as skiing and hang gliding. Tylösand has been a well known beach paradise since the nineteenth century and boasts 7 kilometers of beautiful sandy beaches as well as rocks for the sunworshippers to bake themselves brown and the blue, foaming waters as a backdrop. As you can see, on fine summer days the beach below Hotel Tylösand can be as crowded as any around the Mediterranean. The "in-crowd" apparently dominate the area, and during summer afternoons they go in to the Hotel for their famous "After Beach". Sounds like a place to avoid, if you ask me.

By now, the wind had died completely, so we looked at the chart to try and find somewhere close by for the night. We are quite close to Halmstad, though we don't really want to go all of the way into the deep bay (Laholms bukten) to get there. As there is no wind, we drop anchor nearby on the northern shore of the bay and watch the passing traffic.




This returning fisherman seems to be very popular with the local seagull population. I can't tell you what a joy it is to see bird life again after missing their joyful cries all summer. In the distance you can see the high cliffs that make up the southern shore (Hallandsåsen) of this bay and you can also see that there is barely a ripple on the water.

We enjoy our evening gin and tonic and a light dinner of smoked fish and salad while enjoying the beautiful display of clouds and setting sun. I love these long, summer evenings especially when we are gently rocking on the boat in a quiet bay.




Can there be a more perfect end to a summer's day?



We have a really soft spot for Halmstad as we found people to be invariably friendly and helpful on our last visit here, so we are thinking that we might mosey on up the river in the morning and visit the town just for old time's sake. There is rain forecast, but that won't put a dampener on our mood as we will welcome a little cloud cover after the last days of blazing sunshine. It is a reminder, too that although there are many golden days still to come, it will not be long before autumn makes an appearance.

This morning we are feeling really torn about what to do. It has taken quite an effort and a not inconsiderable amount of money (for us, anyway) to get this far and it seems too early to be heading home already. On the other hand, we haven't really enjoyed the trip as much as we'd expected to. We've talked a bit about why that is so and have found no real answer. We've not had any major problems with the boat, we still enjoy being onboard but there seems to be too many days when we are simply doing transport stretches of sailing, rather than the sort of weaving here and there and exploring that we like to do. Neither of us had any idea that those opportunities would be so restricted on the west coast. We also had no idea that there would be so many people sailing here and so few decent anchorages because of the prevailing winds and waves.

We decide that for today, we are not going to put in the long and tiring 35 to 40 nautical mile stretches we have been doing lately and instead, we'll take it easy and perhaps pop just across to the ten islands which makes up the northern archipelago. I had previously been fascinated by seeing tiny communities with narrow lanes and pretty pastel wooden houses with fancy carpentry.




The day begins well and soon we are heading into the main strait between the islands of Björkö and Öckerö. About 12,000 people live on these islands, which have a car ferry service direct to Göteborg. This makes it a popular place to live - you can get the best of both worlds with a calm, peaceful environment and the sea being so close by, plus good access to "the big smoke". The Norwegian boats have not been in evidence today, but they have been replaced by an army of boats from Germany and Denmark (with a few hardy Brits and Dutchmen thrown into the mixture). It is a lovely day for sailing.




We have winds directly on the nose again, so we have to tack and this is not always easy in a busy strait with weekend traffic in all shapes and sizes buzzing around us. We have also noticed that Fiona seems to be a little sluggish in the water. She is not sailing with her usual strong, wave-splitting motion and we think that her hull must have a lot of barnacle growth after being in the salty North Sea. We use ant fouling paint on the underwater sections of the boat to help to prevent the buildup of barnacles and other organisms, which in turn reduces the drag on the hull and makes her faster. As the very effective paints are highly toxic to marine life, they have been banned in Sweden since the early 1990's, so we have to use quite useless paint which the barnacles seem to love. Lars-Göran thinks he might take a dive under the hull while the weather is still warm and check out what is happening.




The combination of adverse winds, heavy boat traffic and the sluggish sailing of the boat starts to grate on Lars-Göran, so I suggest that perhaps, yet again, it is not the day for such a trip, so we head out to sea at a convenient opening between the islands and sail towards the southern archipelago instead.

Along the way, we pass the very distinctive sea markers at the island of Vinga.




This is also a place we would have liked to visit, especially as it has become famous as the childhood home of one of Sweden's best loved singers, Evert Taube. It also has a lot of historical significence as the previous border between Norway and Denmark was here and with the main harbour at Göteborg in the distance and the bare, windswept rocks it looked a really fascinating island. Unfortunately for us, there is no decent night harbour here. There is a deep bay which faces west, so it can only be used in stable weather with winds from the east. Even so, huge cargo ships pass by almost constantly and the swell from these can be driven into the unprotected bay. So on we go, out into the ever increasing waves, looking for some shelter.





We crossed the main shipping lanes into Gothenburg, with their huge bright red and green buoys and just south-east of Vinga, we looked at a horseshoe-shaped island (Stora Rävholmen) as a possible anchorage. However, it was also quite open to the west and the strong surf was rolling in. By this time, we were almost resigned to going back to the mainland and had even thought of mooring at the wharf where we picked up the boat five years ago. But, on the spur of the moment, we decided to just try a narrow, shallow opening that appeared to lead into some sheltered waters. I also recalled that SKX had a buoy in the area, but knew that it was unlikely to be free at this time of the year.

By now, it was after 6pm and on the way into the inner bay, I counted 30 or boats moored to the cliffs. However, right inside where we wanted to be there were only a few boats and the buoy was available, so we quickly snaffled it and congratulated ourselves on this turn of luck as a big blow was forecast for later. As the wind picked up, it sorted out those inadequately moored, with some retiring to sea and others heading towards our bay. We had a good night with only light winds stirring our bay.




We explored the island in the morning. It is formed from rugged convoluted granite, much veined with quartz and covered with patches of springy turf, supporting a small flock of recently shorn sheep. I was glad to find the sheep as I could have sworn that I heard bleating overnight but didn't say anything in case I was going insane and starting to hear things. There was even a discrete hut with toilets and rubbish collection facilities. It was hot again (30C) in the morning, so the noble ideas of some boat maintenance quickly evaporated, and as we were in a lazy mood, we decided to stay another night. The wind howled and blew strongly and we even had a wind shift, so we re-anchored a little further into the bay and relaxed in the sunshine with a good book and a glass of wine.




This has been one of the nicest places that we have stayed on the west coast. We discuss perhaps spending a little time in this island group, but a quick look at the chart shows us that there are very few places that we could use as a harbour and really, while it's nice here, it's nothing to rip your nightie over, if you get my drift. So we'll have to just bite the bullet and start heading southwards. We pass several fishing towns, like the one on Dönsö. This time they really are genuine fishing harbours, rather than the tarted up tourist fishing harbours we have seen further north. These islands all have ferry links to Göteborg, so you can live here and have a half hour commute over the water for work. It sounds like an idyllic life.




Today we have half-wind sailing, so it is fast and smooth at around 6 knots. The sun is shining and now that we have made the decision to just keep going down the coast, it feels as though a weight has been lifted from my mind. We know that the islands end here and that we have to face staying at harbours behind seawalls for now onwards but it still feels good to be headed towards home. We savour the last few glimpses of islands before we reach open water. There is a brisk wind, so we hope we can make Varberg by this evening. Yes, I know, another 40 nautical mile day.




There are a lot of family groups out walking on the islands. Many of them come across from the mainland in small motor boats, so they are able to moor in the shallow waters and enjoy a welcome day in the sunshine by the sea. We approach the lighthouse at Valö and know that this marks the end of the archipelago and that we won't see another one until we reach Blenkinge on the east coast.




Once past the fringe of islands, the sea is rougher, but we also have room to move and feel free because we no longer have to watch out for shoals, just set a course and sail. There is surprisingly little boat traffic now and that also adds to our feeling of euphoria. After weeks and weeks of dodging boats we are all alone. Or almost. Very occasionally a bot passes by, heading northwards. One of the most striking was this superb wooden boat from Germany - what a beauty!




As we are far out from land in order to keep to our course, the view is not all that fascinating until we get to the lighthouse at Nidingen. For those who listen to the VHF weather, you'd know this lighthouse as one of the boundaries of coast stretches they report. It is built on a reef about five nautical miles offshore and its name speaks for itself - Niding (meaning vandal or hooligan) is a dangerous place, a real ship's graveyard with over 700 wrecks literring the waters. It was thought that in the past, bands of "nidingar" lured the ships onto the reef in order to plunder them.




The island itself is only a kilometre long and a few hundred metres wide. You can't mistake the unique twin towers, which was constructed like that so it could be easily distinguished from the light at Skagen. There were no sign of nidingar today and we passed by without incident. Had it been a little earlier in the day and the weather a little more calm we may have anchored and taken a walk around, but it was no place to try and stay the night as it was so exposed.

Late in the evening, the powerful fortress at Varberg came into view and we started our engine and headed into the harbour, past the magnificent building, constructed between 1287-1300 by Count Jacob Nielsen as protection against the Danish king, who had declared him an outlaw after the murder of King Eric V of Denmark. Don't you love these royal squabbles?




Apparently this summer some people started a rumour that the moat has it's own "moat monster" - a brown, furless creature that has been witnessed emerging from the water and eating a duck! Hmmm... I notice that this was reported in the sensationalist afternoon rag Aftonbladet, so it's probably not true. Or the witnesses were well and truly sloshed. Or maybe both! I only know that if I mention this to Lars-Göran as something I saw on an Aftonbladet newsboard, he'll look at me with contempt.

(edited to add later - It has even spread to the mainstream media)




The other striking building you can see in front of the harbour is the Kallbadhus, which was built in the 1820's when Varberg was a fashionable spa resort where the idle rich came to "take the waters" in the belief that it could cure all kinds of ailments. I think it has a bit of an oriental look - can't you picture it in some Indian palace?




Of course the guest harbour was jammed with boats and there was not one spare place to moor. This is what I was afraid we would meet by returning so early in the season, but we are going to have to grin and bear it as there are no other options. A boat club in a nearby bay at Getterön had space to take Fiona, so we managed to take Lambi to land, buy an icecream and enjoy the warm summer evening. I'd like to do a little shopping in the next day or two, so I hope that may be here in Varberg, which looks an interesting town. And I'd like to see if I can spot that moat monster. I didn't have any luck spotting Nessie when I visited Scotland a few years back, so I figure I'm due for some good fortune. Do you think it eats toy poodles?

I can’t wait to leave in the morning. I find this scenery so depressing that I long to be somewhere that there is a little life. We pack up quickly and make our way gingerly out through Kråksundsgap. The wind is quite strong again today and once out of the protection of the islands, the sea is still somewhat rough.




Apparently in the 1970s a large cargo ship was tossed up onto these rocks in a storm, so one can’t be too careful. For smaller boats, there is a tiny, winding inner passage, but it is considered much more macho to go through the gap (“Är du karl så tar du Gapet”). Lars-Göran puts on his very best Clint Eastwood/Dirty Harry face and quips “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do!” so the gap it is! Luckily this display of male pride went without a hitch. I was reading about a guy in the nineteenth century who made the same remark when he was sailing home in a small skiff with his brand new bride and her dowry (a fine milking cow). The skiff overturned in the rough water of "the gap" and all three of them had to swim to land. I bet he got an earful when they came ashore!




Just past "the gap", we come again to the pretty town of Mollösund – another place on my wish list. While it is touted as a genuine fishing village, the truth is that the fish have pretty much died out in this stretch of the coast and the fishing nets strung here and there are more for decoration these days. Any fresh fish on sale more than likely arrived here via truck from Norway. It buzzes in the summer, full to the brim with visiting boats from Norway, Denmark, Germany and Holland and a glance at the guest harbour shows us that yet again we will have to give it a miss.




You really can’t even fit a rowboat into that mess. This is another disappointment as the older part of the town, far away from the pubs and cafés crowded around the harbour, with the pretty church and old fishing sheds look very inviting.




Much of the genuine old environment has been retained, with boatsheds, fishermen’s houses and piers. The old wooden houses with pretty leadlight windows crowd together along the narrow cobblestone streets and on top of the hill, the old windmill looks down on the town. There are also quite a few of the large wooden racks for drying fish. Here ling fish was treated with lye, to become the popular Christmas dish of lutfisk. Don't laugh, but I quite like lutfisk, though I cook it in a very unSwedish way, with onion, garlic, tomatoes, black olives, lemon juice and lashings of tabasco sauce and served on a mound of polenta. Yum, I am making myself hungry again.




I would also have liked to visit Mollö island, just across the water, as it is known for its cows. Every year cows are sent over by boat from the mainland to graze. These famous ecological Mollö cows are left to wander freely around the island all summer, before being ferried back to the mainland in the autumn. Sometimes apparently, the cows get bored and simply swim across the strait and head home themselves! The grass always being greener on the other side and all of that.... There proves to be nowhere to anchor, so we head on again.

This time, we decide to take the narrow inner route through Kyrkesund. We come to a tiny channel formed by a gully between two high cliffs. High above us, perched rather precariously on the smooth granite rocks we saw a flock of sheep.




I was worried that they might slip on the smooth shiny rocks, but they trotted around very confidently. The boat traffic was again very tight and it was quite stressful to be forced to do these acrobatic twists and turns around marker buoys while at the same time trying to avoid big, wide sailing and motor boats heading in both directions.




On shore, being a fine Sunday in July, the place was packed with people who arrived by boat and ferry and were lining up in the cafés and restaurants, outside the summer houses or just walking along the piers watching the sailing boats go by.




Apparently, this is nothing compared to the crowd they get here when the big boat race Tjörn Runt takes place in July. One cannot move that weekend for the crowd. I’m glad I’ll be missing that!

Yes, it is narrow and tight and very busy, but on a clear summer’s day, it is still very picturesque with the sun shining on the water and reflecting off the cliffs and the shore lined with former seamen’s cottages now renovated into summer homes.




As we were sailing at a nice, easy pace we could linger a little and look more closely at the homes on the shore. On front of many of the homes were private piers, with all kinds of boats bobbing in the water. Each section of the sound had its own unique character and there was a big variety of house size and types which made it quite interesting.




Among my favourites were the tiny little homes, some no more than a small room, but each built on the water with a fabulous view of the passing parade of boats all summer long. Mind you, I did wonder what it would be like here on a cold, dark autumn or winter day, though today, thoughts of that time of the year were far away as people fired up their bbq and set the table for a sunny lunch.




There are also some quite large homes and I dread to think what one of these might cost. I can't believe that these homes, worth many millions are only used in the summer. In winter these days, this is a ghost town. In previous years, this whole area was a busy fishing and cargo port as the high island provided shelter from the ever present westerly winds. It all looks so peaceful here that it's hard to believe that on the other side of the island, the North Sea sweeps in against the shore.




We saw quite a bit of criss crossing at one particular point in the sound and discovered that many people were trying to moor outside of a pier restaurant, which apparently has a high reputation. Magasinet was built in an old grain and fish storehouse dating from the mid nineteenth which has been renovated. It looked really busy today as boats jostled to get a good mooring place. What an outstanding location.




All too soon, we were through the sound and back in the open water, sailing steadily along the island of Tjörn. We have previously visited the island by car and loved all of the tiny communities there. We drove along small roads to these fishing villages and stood on the cliffs looking out at the sea with the bare islands in the distance and made a vow to ourselves to come here one day and sail our own boat. That was five years ago and here we are - though it is not as much fun to be actually in the sea as it was looking at it all from land. One of my very favourite towns on Tjörn is the beautiful, rocky harbour at Skärhamn.




This town has about 3,000 permanent inhabitants and many, many thousand more in the summer. The harbour was packed and the boat traffic was really intensive as we .... yes you guessed it.... passed by. It would have been insane to have tried and squeeze in today. I kept thinking back five years to that cool, quiet day in late September when we sat at a waterfront café for lunch and enjoyed the peace and tranquility of the town. We then went for a walk to the cliffs and looked across the water at the fairytale island of Åstol and wondered what it would be like on a summer's day. Well, we have our answer! Insane. Another illusion bites the dust.

The rest of the day, we sail to the west of Marstrand, looking for a place to drop anchor for the night. The choices are few and far between. Around Marstrand itself, enormous boats full of young men, all well lubricated with beer have taken over the guest harbours so we give that a wide berth. There are several bays on the nature reserve of Klåverön, just south of Marstrand, but they are completely open to the south west (the prevailing wind direction) so they are not suitable for a night harbour.

We find ourselves heading further and further south in our quest. One possible bay, Utkäften, must have had at least 40 boats moored with more heading in - and it wasn't even a very big place! When I asked Lars-Göran why everyone would cram themselves into the same bay, he answered "Well, what other choices are there around here?" And that was very true. The mainland just to the east was shallow and quite open to the sea and there were very few islands. The island groups between here and Göteborg were all built up with holiday homes, private piers and nowhere to moor. In the end, we went back to the same place (Stora Hästholmen) where we stayed the first night we spent in Göteborg.




It's peaceful here. We do see some boats passing in the distance, but it seems that this area is not so popular and we are quite alone. I can't believe how far south we've had to come and we talk a little about where to go from here. I feel as though we have barely touched the places we wanted to see, but I can see that July is not the time to do it. I think that we hadn't expected to be back at this point until mid August, so we feel a little dissatisfied and at a loose end. Should we try and head north again tomorrow or just forget about it and look at the Göteborg archipelago instead. Perhaps it may be less crowded than Bohuslän.



I guess we'll sleep on it.

After last night’s “It’s just for the night” scene, we woke up early, determined to put a bright slant on things and find something fun to do. Last year we had a ball island hopping in the Stockholm archipelago – just going a few nautical miles here and there, dropping anchor, taking our bikes to land and riding around, having picnics and enjoying the surroundings. We have missed being able to do that this year, so today I want to change that.

The forecast is for north westerly winds – still at 20-25 knots but at least in a direction that will give us easy downwind sailing with just the foresail up. I had a look at the chart and pointed to the island of Hållö, a popular nature harbour just outside of Smögen as a place I was really curious to visit. I noticed a few cows grazing this morning on the opposite shore, so I saw that as a good sign for the future. I really do love cows.




Coming out of the protection of the fjord and into the open water we found that the sea was still pounding into the coastline, but this time we were going with the waves which made our trip a little more comfortable. At least the skies were a beautiful cobalt blue and the sun was shining.

Having successfully negotiated Sotekanalen a few weeks ago, we though we might take that route again. The previous trip had been in drizzling rain and so we wanted to see it in sunshine while we were here. The waterways were busy with all kinds of boats out enjoying the day and we have become a little more used to the sheer volume of traffic here. Each small crack in the cliffs is filled with boats and the towns we pass with guest harbours are doing a roaring trade. Hunnebostrand seemed to be bursting at the seams.




I remember reading that this town is a a popular holiday spot with a good harbour, fine swimming beaches and lots of street life in summer. It is also one of Bohuslän’s oldest coastal towns, with a history going back to the 13th century. It grew considerably during the big herring fishing period lasting from 1556 to 1589. When the quarrying industry got underway in the 1860s the population boomed and for decades the sound of the hammers echoed from the quarries. Today it is the summer tourists who rule.

Just south of Hunnebostrand is the canal. We were expecting it to be busy, but even we hadn’t expected the traffic jam we met, with long lines of boats “bumper to bumper” in both directions.




There was a long wait for the bridge to open and that was quite tense as boats drifted here and there trying to keep in line. It is easy waiting in a queue in a car as it stays in one place. A boat is constantly moving and you are always on alert both for your boat as well as those around you. A Norwegian boat decided to suddenly stop in the middle of the canal as the bridge opened and came close to causing a major chain collision of boats behind him. We were two boats back and saw what he was about to do, but as we had boats behind us as well as in front and next to us, we felt helpless and feared hearing the crunch as we all collided. Fortunately, the boat in front of us was a tour boat and he blew his horn and screamed at the Norwegians to keep moving. It was only then that the clueless Norwegians looked back at the panic they were causing behind them as 20 or more boats tried to turn here and there to avoid collision. It looked not unlike a Dodge-em car track with boats lying at all kinds of crazy angles. It was a very close thing and we came out of the canal literally shaking.




Not even the rural scene around us could cheer us up. After that near miss, we felt it would be madness to take the narrow, twisting inner route into Smögen. Who knows how many more idiots there might be out today. Every boat was going that way, so we chose to head out to sea instead and take our chances with the waves and rocks.




At least they are more predictable. It was lovely out there on the outside of the islands in relative peace and quiet. In a couple of hours, we came in through the rocks and saw the back view of Smögen high on the cliffs.




The rocks in this area are the beautiful, smooth, flat red granite, so loved of the former stonemasons. This part of the coast has not been quarried, so you can see what the rest of the surroundings should have looked like. They are very popular with swimmers and sunbathers and nearly every “shelf” was full of people, lying in lee and toasting themselves.




Smögen is one of the most famous coastal towns in Bohuslän – a popular destination for sun worshippers, sport fishermen, divers, sailors and lovers of the good life. It might not be Bohuslän’s oldest fishing village, but the atmosphere and the unique building style has been well maintained. The big attraction is the 600 metre long quay lined with shops and cafés, one of the province’s most famous tourist destinations. As you would expect, there is lively boat traffic and the guest harbour was unbelievably crowded with even more boats trying to squeeze in. There was absolutely no way we could possibly even begin to moor there.




I could see Hållö in the distance and hoped that it would be quieter there. I am disappointed to be missing out on seeing these towns. I am interested in the atmosphere of these places and would like to take a closer look, but they are so crowded that it is no fun to even try and be there. I’d like to come back when things are quieter and look around, but we won’t be here during a quieter time. Each day, it is a matter of “now or never” and unfortunately “never” seems to be winning every time. It has taken the shine off the trip and I am resigned to simply bypassing everything. Somehow, this wasn’t the vacation I’d had in mind.

Hållö, with its lighthouse that reminds me so much of our beloved Landsort, is by contrast very quiet.




As we approached, we could see why. The waves were rolling straight in to the cliffs and there was no way to moor there without risking damaging the boat. I really wanted to walk around and look at this unusual scenery on this nature reserve, the smooth granite rocks sanded smooth by glaciers with nary a tree in sight, but yet again, it was not to be. The only mooring places faced the waves and today it was too rough. We thought about trying to find a protected place nearby and hope for better conditions tomorrow, but we were not hopeful, so reluctantly we went out to sea again.

We wanted to stay out at sea and come in at Måseskär, but it was quite rough tacking in those waves, Lambi was unhappy, so we came in at Gullholmen and took our chances with the madmen again. At least the views were worthwhile and the water was much calmer.




We passed several small communities, but after a while each group of white houses perched on a cliff above the sea, exposed to the elements starts to look like every other place and it can be hard to tell them apart.




Everywhere we look there are boats sailing. We have books outlining nature harbours, but few of them are facing the right direction in order to give us protection. Again we start weaving here and there looking for somewhere good to anchor for the night. What a contrast to the east coast, where you sail for as long as you like, then simply select somewhere close by to tie up. It rarely takes more than one or two tries to find something perfect. Here we are spending hours looking and in the end selecting something we hate out of pure desperation. Hundreds of others are also in the same area doing the same thing.




Today is a good illustration of what I mean. Rough seas and overcrowded harbours have ruled out the possible choices we made this morning. As we sail south, I scan the charts and look at bays that may provide shelter, only to find even the most ugly places jam packed. Other places are impossibly full of shoals and only suitable for shallow draughts. Other places have stone as the bottom and the anchor will not grip. Some places look so inviting and ideal to take a tour around in our dinghy (eg around Härmanö), only they are so exposed and the wind is howling through the place! Most of the guidw books describe places as ideal and worth visiting, bar the disclaimer “dock inte i västlig vind, då havet rullar på rackt in”. Who are they kidding? It’s always westerly winds here! You just can’t win. In the end we do find somewhere.




“It’s just for the night” Lars-Göran assures me as I look around at this desolate moonscape. Now where have I heard that before? It’s not even like this place is protected. No, there are no waves as we are far inland, but it is too much to hope to be able to get both wave AND wind shelter on the west coast. Without the welcome windbreak provided by trees, det blåser som attan här!

It’s soul destroying and I am beginning to hate it here so much I could cry.

Dear west wind,

It was really nice of you to come out and play, but now can you just GO AWAY!

Thankyou,

The crew of S/Y Fiona

The last few days have seen the wind strength go from the sublime to the ridiculous and I can tell you that it is very wearing on the temper, especially if you are thrown together on a small, tight boat. Sudden violent deluges followed by strong gales for days on end have forced us to be inside the boat, hiding out in bays where we don’t want to be, while waiting for the sea to subside enough for us to venture out again. What a contrast to the peace and calm of the weather we had at Väderöarna.

As I have said before, we watch the weather carefully, choosing mooring places and directions to sail depending on wind strength and direction. The bay we were moored in was totally open to the north, so when the forecast was predicting winds from just that point on the compass, we knew it was time to leave. That proved to be easier said than done as the wind was blowing from behind us and made maneuvering to loosen all of the ropes a hazardous affair. Poor Lars-Göran had to free the ropes from high up the narrow cliff face, while the dinghy kept perversely insisting on pretending to be a giant fender and inserting itself between the boat and the cliff. In the end, using a boat hook, brute strength and a lot of colourful language, we managed to free ourselves and take off. All of this was carried out with a full audience of rubber necking boat owners on top of the cliff face – none of whom offered to help out, I might add. So much for the myth of the friendly west coast people. As you can imagine, this somewhat bruised Lars-Göran’s male pride and provided another nail in the coffin of his self esteem and belief in his sailing abilities and put a dampener on our trip back to the mainland.

Just when I thought that things couldn’t get worse, they did. I could see that Lars-Göran was in no mood to fight for a place at the overcrowded pier at Fjällbacka, which was our tentative goal for the day. I thought it was better to spend a day at a nice nature harbour, maybe take the dinghy to land and walk around a little and just disconnect and recharge our emotional batteries, then tackle the town the next day.

It was a great plan on paper. Our first goal was to find somewhere to moor. I had hoped to just take one of the first places we came to, even though they had the rather gruesome names of Kyrkogårdsön (The Cemetery Island) and Galgeberget (The Gallows Hill). Charming! Apparently, their names do refer to their former uses – one as a burial place for sailors lost at sea who were washed up on the shores and the other as an execution place, where the bodies hung high on the hill as a warning to others. Lars-Göran pointed out that this part of the country was in Danish hands at the time (1600s) and that was the sort of barbaric behaviour you’d expect from Danes (joke!). Anyway, neither of the islands was suitable – one had bays open to the north, the other was tightly packed with boats.

Just a little further north, we dropped anchor in a tiny bay in Vedholmen as it seemed to offer protection from wind and waves. Today really wasn’t our day at all – not only would the anchor refuse to grip because of the sea grass on the bottom, but even though we had a belt of skerries on the outside of the island and a deep headland in front of us, the waves still managed to come around and we bounced up and down with the swell. We were exhausted by now, so we thought we’d have afternoon tea, listen to the forecast on the VHF and choose somewhere else once we knew what the weather was going to do. Who knows, maybe the wind would ease. Nope, gales and rain forecast for the next few days.

Damn!

So off we went again. Lars-Göran is a sweetie really. When he chooses a bay, he tries to select somewhere with calm water, protection from the wind and a great view. In other words, he wants us to have it all. I tend to think that he puts himself under too much pressure to achieve this, but I’ve learned to keep quiet and let him go rather than suggest a compromise “just for the night”. The next place he chose seemed to fit all of these criteria and he carefully anchored, dug in the anchor well and seemed ready to relax and switch off. The view was perfect, too.




A few hours later as we were preparing to eat dinner, there was a knock on our hull and Lars-Göran peeped out to find a fisherman in a dinghy clinging to the hull, telling us that the boat was dragging. And boy, was it dragging at a great rate!

Damn, again!

There was a lot of cursing and somewhat of a panic to start the engine, pull in the anchor and keep the boat off the shoals. Neither of us could understand how this had happened as we had backed in the anchor properly and it was disheartening and frustrating to find that our knowledge and experience in handling the boat just didn’t help. Frigging west coast! I tell you, if I could teleport myself home to the calm of the Stockholm archipelago this instant, I’d happily do so.

You know, some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed in the morning. And this is rapidly turning into one of those nightmare days. We did manage to find a spot nearby on the east of Gåsön (The Goose Island – but we didn’t see any geese), though I had trouble relaxing as I was really worried that we’d drag again. Over dinner, I told Lars-Göran to skip going to Fjällbacka and just let us get the hell out of this crazy, crowded west coast, but he calmed me and said that we ought to try and see what we could as we had come so far. He was hopeful that the strong winds would abate tomorrow and we could go and have a day on land.

Yeah, right!

It was a sleepless night for both of us as we worried that we’d drag again and we listened as the wind howled outside and the sea swell began to come in to our bay as the wind shifted to the south west and increased to a near storm strength. By 4 am we had both had enough, so I made a quick breakfast and we drew up the anchor, thinking we could go more inland and perhaps drop anchor in the bay opposite Fjällbacka. We only had up a tiny storm sail, but we made over 5 knots of speed, which was a bit hairy in the rock filled channels. Just as we came to the town, an enormous cloudburst hit – it poured and poured solidly for around half an hour and because we were traveling downwind, it drove straight into us drenching everything in the cockpit.

Förbannelse!

Time and time again we selected a mooring place from the chart, only to arrive there and find that it was not suitable. The winds were now more westerly, so this whole area was nothing but trouble. In the crappy weather, dripping wet in the torrential rain, I pointed in desperation to a small, protected looking bay a little way north next to the island of Veddö. On the chart, it was marked as Långsjö and I recalled that the cruising club had a buoy there. It looked a little closed in for our tastes, but in these conditions we could ill afford to be fussy, so off we went.




What a pleasant surprise. We squeezed in through a narrow headland and found ourselves in a deep, lake like bay, full of boats lying by anchor and shores lined with homes, summer houses and even a caravan park and camping ground. The SKX buoy was available as well, so we gratefully tied up the boat and collapsed into bed to recover.

We ended up having to stay here for three nights because the winds continued to be at gale strength from the south west. Most of the time we were forced to be on the boat as it was simply too windy to take the dinghy out and go to land. There were a lot of boats moored here, though few of them moved during the time we were in the bay. Only a couple of fishing boats and the inevitable boat taxis braved the rough seas outside of the headland. We caught up on some reading and writing and discussed what we would do when the weather abated.




On the final day we were here, we took the dinghy to land and walked around the lee side of the island where the camping grounds were situated. It’s not so much fun to walk through a place like this with a persistently inquisitive dog. It was close to lunchtime and Lambi could smell food everywhere, so she kept straining at her leash to go inside of every caravan and tent she could see. I know it’s not her fault, but I found it really annoying and was sorry I had bothered to come ashore. After a time, I began to notice that several people were openly staring at me, so I asked Lars-Göran what I was doing to attract this unwanted attention. He laughed and said “Check out what you are wearing” I protested that I only had on fairly ordinary clothes – long pants, furry jacket, boat shoes – all quite innocuous. “Now, look at what they are wearing” he said and it was then I noticed that everyone was wearing halter tops, shorts, bathers etc. Hmmm….after all these years I still feel cold, even in July *grin*




The caravan park stretched right across the island to a small horseshoe shaped bay which offered a nice sandy beach, ideal for children and good protection from the south west winds. Mind you, it would be the pits in a northerly gale!

There was a small grocery shop as well, so I wandered in and bought some fresh salad vegetables and smoked fish, while the bikini-clad checkout chick stared at me rugged up in my warm jacket. Can I help it if she is in total denial? Believe me, it was quite fresh in the wind.

Finally, we were tired of waiting and even though the winds continued to be strong, we decided that we would perhaps have a go at trying to move a little further south. It had begun to feel like we’d never leave and would have to stay trapped in this place for the rest of our lives. I had no idea that gales could go on so long, even if the weather was sunny. Our little bay was reasonably sheltered, but we could see that outside in the fairway, the waters were quite wild.




We are confident that the boat could handle the conditions, but I was less sure about my own ability to cope. I really didn’t travel all this way in order to struggle and fight every day though I could see that a change of scene would be a good idea. Naturally the forecast wind direction bore no resemblance to reality, so we found ourselves having to tack in a zigzag course through the rough water down to Fjällbacka. We had looked at information about several towns in this region and this is the one that had most appealed to us. We came into the bay where the town lay before us, winding its way up the cliff.




The church tower is unfortunately covered for renovation, but you can see it is still an appealing place to visit. The lovely town of Fjällbacka is associated with the actresses Ingrid Bergman. I’ve mentioned before that she spent her summers at Dannholmen in the Fjällbacka archipelago. It wasn’t just for that reason that I wanted to come here. There is apparently a magnificent view from the top of the 76m high hill behind the town (Vetteberget) as well as a huge opening (Kungsklyftan) in the massive stone cliff in the middle of Fjällbacka, where parts of Astrid Lindgren’s film ”Ronja the Robber’s Daughter” were filmed. I had been looking forward to simply strolling among the old boathouses by the harbour and walking through the winding narrow streets looking at the pretty, tightly packed houses. However, one look at the guest harbour dashed our hopes.




The boats were packed at the piers like sardines. They lay nine boats deep in places! Can you imagine having to tie up to the outside and clamber over nine other boats just to get to the pier (and pay 200kr for the privilege!). I had expected it to be popular, but not in my wildest nightmares had I expected anything like this. Sadly, we had to pass by and I felt really disappointed and a little worried about how bad it would be further south. Certainly there was a lot of boats out sailing today, all looking for a mooring place to protect them from the strong winds.

Even though it was windy, the day was sunny and bright and when we sailed in lee of the strong waves, it was really lovely.




We saw several tiny settlements like this one, consisting of fishermen’s cottages lining a tiny piece of flat ground at the foot of a high rockface. There were a lot of people out enjoying the sunshine and we even ran into a sailing school being held in one of the sounds. I am so impressed by the skill of these young children handling these tiny boats, though we were a little worried sailing past them, keeping a close watch to make sure we were well away from their path.




Sailing further southwards through the outer islands brought some further surprises, like this lovely summer home, complete with a lush, green lawn. The sight of such growth was startling when compared to the normal environment of stark, red granite rocks. I wonder how they managed to get it to grow so well in this harsh, windswept, salty place?




By contrast,just around the corner, the area is dominated by these smooth, almost sculptured stone slabs which gives the place a real feel of being in the outer archipelago.




All of this co-exists with large areas that have sadly been exploited by previous generations and a lot of the archipelago looks like a scrapheap in a quarry, with the beautiful stone slabs blasted away and granite blocks lying around, unwanted, forgotten and a little forlorn looking.




As well as being used domestically, a lot of the stone quarried here in Bohuslän was exported in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as part of the industrialisation and urbanising programs. Red granite was used for cobblestoned streets and town squares, piers, bridges in places as far away as Argentina. I think it is sad to see the aftermath of all of this activity in the form of big blocks, half finished, complete with drill holes lying strewn around the islands. There is also a lot of rusty wires, cables and remains of rails left there.

We bypassed Heestrand, the little town where we stayed a couple of weeks ago and decided to cross over the open waters down towards the town of Bovallstrand. The waters were foaming and angry as the waves swept in from the west crashing over rocks and skerries. The boat handled the conditions really well, so we were happy.




We were less happy when we tried to find somewhere to moor. The harbour attached to the village was as ridiculously packed as Fjällbacka had been so we tried to find a nature harbour that would give some protection from the strong winds. No such place existed! Eventually, after a couple of hours of aimlessly motoring around checking out one unsuitable place after another, we dropped anchor in Bergviksfjorden – “It’s just for the night” Lars-Göran assured me as we looked around this dark, windy rather cold place.




I hope things improve tomorrow as I am a bit tired of having to stay in places I don’t like and missing out on seeing places I really want to visit. Seeing the west coast from land is quite different to seeing it from the water – the struggle to find somewhere to moor the boat each day is sapping our strength and will to bother exploring. I am almost sorry that we came…

Another sleepless night, but this time for other reasons. I have to tell you (and it is probably more information than you want to know) but these hot flushes are just getting old. I mean really old. I wake up in the middle of the night sweating and impossibly hot so I throw off the covers and try to cool down, then I am cold, so I pull the covers back over me, then I get hot and throw off the covers, ad infinitum for the rest of the night.

I am only getting about two hours sleep a night when you throw the "waking up because I am hot and then waking up because I am cold" scenarios into the mix. Sheesh, enough already.




It is hard to stay in a bad mood, though when you wake up to a warm, sunny day in this island paradise. It seems as though we are to be blessed with a stable, slow moving high pressure system for the next few days. It means lots of lovely sunshine but possibly not much in the way of wind, so we think it will be good to drift slowly along this bit of the archipelago then tack across the waters to the outer island archipelago of Väderöarna (literally The Weather Islands).

While it is a longer route to weave among the islands, it means we can avoid the waves out in the open water and we hope that will help Lambi feel more secure. She is not happy if the boat rolls through rough water and there is no way we can reassure her that it's all okay. The birds on the other hand, being tough Aussies, remain oblivious of any changes and happily continue to chat, eat and snooze no matter what. The other advantage of taking the inner route is that you get changing scenery to look at. Miles and miles of open water as far as the eye can see gets a bit dull after a few hours.

As you would expect on such a beautiful summer's day, there are many boats out and every island has parties of people lying on the rocks sunning themselves.




There are many, many charter boats out as well and even a few Swedish boats as we head south. When we near the island where Ingrid Bergman had her summer house, we head more to the west and the isolated island group we can see far in the distance. We make slow, steay progress across the sea and even get to see our first fishing boat out working in the water. We had spotted it quite a long way off heading in our direction and when it came closer we saw that it was hauling in its nets. The local bird population have heard the good news and are ready to swoop on any scraps that may be going. I was amazed to see just how long these nets were - kilometres and kilometres of it!




We had plenty of time to study the chart for the area as well as the nature harbour description while we sailed. The islands are described as being a popular destination, so we wondered just how crowded it would be there. While all of the main places would no doubt be full of boats, we hoped to find somewhere a little out of the way to moor. The area contains a couple of hundred islands, however most of them are out of bounds as they are protected areas for seals. I always keep my eyes peeled for these guys whenever I am in an area designated as being near a seal zone, but haven't had much luck. Today it was quite different. As we approached the first islands in the north, there was a strong, fishy sort of smell and I glanced over the side of the boat to see this cutie swimming next to us.




Over the course of the next hour or so, we saw at least six of these curious, gentle creatures pop their heads up and swim lazily around checking us out. I was suitably excited, being childishly enamoured of seals. How wonderful to see them out in their natural environment.

As we had anticipated, the main mooring spots near the lighthouse at Väderö-Storö were packed tight with boats, but we had seen on the charts that a little used bay next to the lighthouse, though shallow and containing one or two rocks just below the surface, might be a good place to anchor. However, there were large signs fordidding anchoring anywhere, except the guest harbour, from June 1st to August 31st! There were no cables where we wanted to go and there seemed no logical reason for the restriction, except that perhaps they preferred you to pay their outrageous harbour fee instead. Why forbid anchoring during the very time when boats are going to be there?

We went back a little way, hoping to find a spot on the western side of the island. This area is also popular, so we hesitated to go there so late as it was bound to be full. Our spirits were a little low as we saw a forest of masts in that direction, knowing that we faced the prospect of heading back to the mailnalnd if the alternative harbour was full. Imagine our joy when we rounded the north of Storö and found a deep crack in the rocks that was empty and which we quickly grabbed.




Once we were safely tied up with plenty of ropes, fenders, a gang plank and the bimini we enjoyed a welcome gin and tonic and dinner in the warm evening sun. We discussed why this bay was empty while the other mooring places were packed like sardines. I think that because the sides of the cliffs are quite steep, it means that it is harder to come on to land. But most boats have a dinghy of some kind, so it is easy to row or motor to a suitable sunbathing, picnic or bbq spot and what you gain by being here is privacy, peace and protection from winds. We felt very snug and cosy. From the top of the island, you get a fabulous view across the northern part of the archipelago. Fiona's mast is visible on the right hand side of the picture and there is another boat around the corner. The islands further away are protected areas, so we are unable to go there, but tomorrow we want to visit the main harbour behind us and see the lighthouse.




In the morning, it was hot, still and sunny. We packed up lots of fresh water and a small picnic and took the dinghy out for a spin around to the main harbour. Our route took us down the west side of the island, to the popular nature harbour of Strömsund, which lies between Storö and Stora Hejen. Even though it was early in the day, the boats were already filling up the shore. I am glad we didn't try and moor here - with the current in the sound bouncing the boats a little and the constant stream of passing traffic, I'd feel a bit like a zoo exhibit.




This narrow sound was a well known harbour in the 1500s and 1600s. The strong currents in the North Sea drove ships in here during strong south-westerly storms and gales. Apparently local fishermen used to help pilot these lost ships in to safety in emergencies. Despite that help, this isolated area is somewhat of a shipwreck coast and we have seen many diving boats out with parties of eager divers exploring the wrecks. When you look at the landscape of bare, exposed, windswept rocks facing the open sea, you can well imagine that this could be a dangerous place to be in bad weather.

There were a lot of people in the main harbour, made up of boatowners, people staying at the youth hostel and day trippers who had come over on the regular ferry from the mainland. We bought icecreams, wandered over the cliffs and climbed up to the lighthouse to admire the fabulous view of the surroundings. It was also the only place where we could get a decent signal for the mobile phone.




This settlement was a pilot and lighthouse outpost from the late eighteenth century until the mid twentieth century and most of these dwellings are now used for summer visitors. There used to be a school here and even some small scale farming. I can't imagine how they managed to coax anything out of such barren ground! There are also a number of rock carvings, including some dates and several compass roses.




After having a good look around and dangling our feet in the water, watching the tiny crabs fossicking around in the rock pools we took the dinghy back to the boat, passing the boats in Strömsund again, where we were shocked at the sheer numbers and the way boats were moored three and four abreast - in a nature harbour?




You would never see this on the east coast. For a start, the boats there moor at right angles to the cliffs, rather than alongside so I guess more boats can fit in. There are also very many more bays to choose from, so if one area is crowded, it is only a short hop to the next place. Here you seem to have to take whatever you can as some areas are restricted and the wind and tidal streams play a bigger role. And there are simply so many more boats over here - think Sandhamn during Gotland Runt week, only everywhere! I would hate to be moored like this, with boats hard up next to you, in front of you, behinfd you and the crews of the outer boats having to clamber over your boat to get access to land - day and night.

*Shudder*

Back in our bay, we are no longer alone, but still in a relatively private place.




With such great weather, I did a good clean out of the boat and washed the sheets and towels, hanging everything out in the fresh, warm breeze to dry. Everyone onboard enjoyed the warmth, under the welcome protection of the bimini. Lars-Göran went for a skinny dip, skillfully avoiding the stinging jellyfish that are here in huge numbers, Lambi had a bath to keep her cool, even the birds had a spray of water to cool off. I think the temperature got up to 30C again today so we ate our favourite summer meal of smoked salmon, a tossed salad and new potatoes with lashings of red onion, capers, horseradish and cream cheese. It's so refreshing with a glass of chilled sauvignon blanc. Australian of course.




This picture was taken looking over the side of the boat at the plant growth on the cliff next to where we were moored. It was fascinating to look at and I could appreciate why there were so many divers around here. The variety of plants was amazing and it was full of tiny, darting fish and little crabs scuttling here and there. Who needs tv?

I had not realised until just recently, how closely linked my emotional wellbeing is to how we function onboard and the wellbeing of my family. This trip particularly, with the thunderstorms, wind and rain plus the uncertainty of new places, means we have not really indulged in our usual sailing routine. Today, going on land, taking the dingy out and just exploring has settled me and helped me to relax. I just hope I can sleep now, without my usual nightly appointment with the sahara desert!





Flap flap flap, it's hot in here....

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.

It's a tough life, but someone has to live it. Just check out the view we woke up to this morning at Daftö-Valö. It's hard to believe that this is the North Sea, folks, not an inland pond.




Right now though there is a truly fabulous summer light, which glitters over the water. We are happy to do little more than simply sit on the fore of the boat and admire the picturesque island homes where no one seems to stir. On days such as this, you want to just BE - to enjoy the peace, to be gently calmed by the rocking of the boat through the barely rippling water. We take a walk up a small path between through a cleft in the rocks, through bushes and undergrowth and out to the other side, where lights from Strömstad are sparkling across the water. With this startling morning light, you feel an almost dreamlike taste of silence and isolation. It's pure magic.




We'll continue on our northwards journey today, having been revitalised by the day of rest, the fresh air, the sea and the gorgeous sunlight. We pass by Strömstad again as we make our way past rocky cliffs, fine sandy beaches packed with people and quiet islands with private beach houses - and at Holmen Grå (the Grey Bay) a touch of something just a little different.




It's not every day you see a private seaplane parked next to the summer house, is it? We have a choice of ways to head north. We could go out to the fjord again, but are not too keen to battle with the current. We think about taking Långörännan, a narrow sound between the mainland and the island of Nord-Långö but the lively motor boat and ferry traffic is a bit off putting, especially as we want to sail downwind and basically don't trust the plethora of Sunday drivers out there. Almost all of the boats are Norwegian and they seem just as clueless and reckless as the motor boats we are used to seeing in the Stockholm archipelago. We thought it might be more prudent to sail in the sound on the western side of the island instead, though we discovered it was not entirely knob-free!




This guy went up and down past us several times over the course of the day stirring up a huge wash behind him. Fiona is a heavy boat, so it doesn't worry us so much, but it caused havoc with several fishing dories in the sound and also a couple of rowboats full of children. I can't imagine how much he spent in petrol for all of that! Today, once we passed through the busy sound, it was gentle, warm downwind sailing that we enjoyed very much. There is very little boat traffic once we are north of Strömstad and any boats we saw were heading southwards. We are sailing now on the border between Sweden and Norway, with the impressive 100 metre cliffs of the Swedish mainland to out east and the sandy and popular Norwegian islands of Sandöy to our west. The speed is a steady 4 knots and we are happily sunning ourselves.

I am of course generously coated with SPF Factor 40 suncream. I am so happy that I found this here in Sweden. Swedes don't take sun protection seriously, so these full protection products are not always easy to find. I have very fair skin and have already had several nasty skin cancers cut out when I lived in Australia, so I take no chances. Today is the first day I am using the new type of spray on product and so far it has been great. Last year I had a thick cream sunscreen that was so greasy that I was scared to go in the water in case I left an oil slick that would either alert the coast guards or have Greenpeace trailing me in a protest ship!

In the late afternoon, we turn more north east and sail up Idefjorden, a 14 nautical mile long fjord that separates Sweden from Norway. There is quite a strong current pushing us along and a large number of Norwegians out enjoying the sunshine in their boats. And not a life jacket in sight!




I am rather surprised by this, especially as the waters around here can be deep and very cold. I saw no children wearing lifejackets, either which is so irresponsible, especially at the reckless speeds and darting here and there that some of these boats do. I have to say that in Sweden, people are very particular about kids wearing proper lifejackets at all times when they are close to water. I had expected our nearest neighbours to be of a like mind.




The Norwegian township you can see is called Sponvika, an old fishing village dating from the 17th Century. It looks an idyllic place with well tended gardens and small white houses that reflect beautifully in the waters of Idefjorden. It was really green and lush there and looked similar to other small towns on the Swedish side, though the style of housing was a little different and the houses seemed to be more tightly packed together. The waters today were moving quite fast with the strong wind being tunnelled up the narrow fjord and the huge amount of motorboat traffic adding to the hectic scene. Not much further north, we came to the place we were looking for - Svinesund Bridge.




There are two bridges, the old and new Svinesund Bridge spanning the sound. The newer bridge in the foreground, opened only a year ago is a very elegant, arched 704 metre long beauty. The Swedish side of this sound is extremely popular with Norwegians who flock across to buy goods cheaply in Sweden. Well, cheap for them anyway - nothing is really that cheap in Sweden! Just to cater for this, the smart Swedes have built an enormous shopping complex immediately after crossing the sound. Following the erection of the new bridge in 2005, road taxes must be paid to drive into Norway using either bridge, and to drive into Sweden using the new bridge. Just as well we have a boat!




A tiny way further and we arrived at the old bridge, constructed during the last world war. I am rather surprised that a bridge was not built here earlier, but apart from a provisional pontoon type of structure it was mostly small boat traffic that crossed the fjord. As you can imagine, a very healthy smuggling trade was carried on. The view across Sweden and Norway from the top of the bridge is spectacular.




The Swedish side of the fjord is mostly desolate, pine clad hills while the Norwegian side consists of more populated areas with towns built on the steep slopes and valleys. There are no good anchorages along the fjord, so we decide that this symbolic place will be our turning point and we head southwards to Saltbacken, a small settlement on the Swedish side inside a deep bay opposite Sponvika. We are totally alone, surrounded by high cliffs, a few birds and more of that warm, life giving sunshine.

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.....