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.