We spent the most lazy but enjoyable couple of days successfully emulating sloths. We barely left the bed or sofa and simply read, chatted sipped wine and nibbled on cheese and biscuits. I could get used to this life, I can tell you. In fact the only thing that finally got us to shift our sorry carcasses was the forecast of strengthening south east winds which would make our bay impossible to be in. Being still in a lazy mode, we simply drew up the anchor and sailed a mere six nautical miles further along to a small fishing community called Hällevik, where we could drop anchor in a protected, rocky bay opposite the harbour. I love the archipelago!




There were a herd of cows grazing happily on the shore, accompanied by at least a million seagulls. Some family members thought that was somewhat of an exaggeration, but it was like a scene from that old Hitchcock movie outside. Having spent several weeks searching for birds on the west coast, it's a welcome, if somewhat noisy sight to see such an enormous flock of seagulls. I guess the waters must be full of fish to sustain such a large population.




We stayed overnight in the bay, then went into the main harbour to fill our water tanks and have a little look at the town. It is an old fishing village and still has a lot of the old appeal left, with narrow streets and old wooden homes with intricate fancy woodwork on the eaves. There was a small fishing museum, a fabulous and well stocked smokery, clean sandy beaches and a charming beach hotel built in the old style. The beach was full of happy families frolicking in the water. On the hill above them stodd Hällevik's lighthouse, pointing out towards the bay of Hanö ready to guide the fishing fleets back into port.




Unlike many of the tarted up places we saw on the west coast, this was actually a real, living fishing community and we watched the boats head out in the evening to set their nets, returning late the next day.

We have had a run of sunny days, but bad weather is on the way from Germany, so we have to move on to a more sheltered place. We thought about going to the island of Hanö, often referred to as "The Pearl of the Baltic", but decided that we could possibly be trapped there for several days if the weather was really bad, so we thought it more prudent to seek more protected (and cost free) mooring behing the rocky coastline to the north. On the way, we passed Hanö, with it's lighthouse standing proud on a 60 metre hill, ready to warn seafarers of the dangers of these rock filled shores.




You can also see from the picture that the water is mirror still today. So much for the forecast of strong winds in this stretch of the coast. How do they get it so wrong? Hanö was at one time involved in a history making episode. During the Napoleonic Wars, the British used the Baltic for manoeuvres for a couple of years (1810-1812). There were thousands of ships moored in the waters here and it must have been a majestic and powerful sight to see them assembled in one place. To give you an idea of the size of the operation, it is believed that over 100,000 men were onboard.




While the south side of the island is quite sandy and popular for families, the northern side is very rocky and one part contains a rocky spur made up of millions of smooth stones, stretching out into the sea. The locals call the area Bönsäcken (prayer bag) and there are several versions of how it got that name. Some believe that it is of religious significance, with some kind of worship being held here in older times. Others said that a ship laden with sacks of beans (böna in Swedish, not that different to bön) was beached on this point. Yet another story refers to a legendary giant woman who apparently lived here. She felt lonely and decided to build a stone bridge across from Hanö to the coastline. She gathered stones in her giant apron, but stumbled near the beach, tipping them all into the water.

We motored and half sailed the 15 nautical miles to the start of the coastline, watching the advancing dark clouds. We noted that while it appeared to be raining over a wide area on land, out here in the bay, it was still dry and fine. I like to watch the rain clouds moving across the sky, especially when they are raining somewhere else! In the early evening we managed to squeeze our way through the rocks and into a well protected bay next to the nature reserve at Stilleryd, just west of the city of Karlshamn.




You can see that I wasn't kidding about the rocks. Yet again I am thankful that Lars-Göran is such a good navigator and that we have a reliable plotter to help us out. It would be much more scary to have to do this without these modern aids.

We set up the cockpit tent and before long the rain, thunder and lightning started and we could enjoy the spectacle from the warmth and safety of the inside of the boat. It feels great to be in the archipelago again knowing that we can move wherever we want to easily and quickly.

In the morning it was still quite overcast with occasional showers, but we went to land anyway between the cloudbursts and took Lambi for a long walk along the country roads.




It was rather a pretty little reserve, consisting of around 20 hectares and chiefly made up of oak woods interspersed with open heaths dotted with junipers as well as a few meadows. All of this led to the rocky shore with views over the whole archipelago. It was very restful to wander around and look at the countryside.

Towards the other shore, the countryside was quite different and just as beautiful. Here the land was more marshy and filled with reeds, water birds and several summer houses. This is such a typical summer scene in Sweden - little red wooden cottages edged with white, built next to the water's edge and complete with a small pier to which is moored a small wooden boat. If you look carefully at the picture (click on it to enlarge it), you will see on the right hand side a Swedish guy out sunning himself on the lawn - yes, it must be summer!




The following morning, felling well rested but in urgent need of icecream, we sailed along the short distance to the nearby town of Karlshamn. We knew that rain was forecast for later in the evening, so we thought it was best to go to the fishing harbour first to fill our diesel tanks, then head into the main town and do a little shopping for fresh vegetables, look at the town itself then head for a nearby island for the night. The fishing harbour was really tight and the pier where the diesel pumps stood was the narrowest, shallowest space we have ever seen. It took a bit of careful steering and many fenders before we could dock and fill up. While that was happening, I glanced around the harbour and spotted this boat, with a name that brought a lump to my throat.




I can honestly tell you that I never expected to see the word Ceduna in the middle of Sweden. It was as surprising as the day we saw the boat called Kirribilli in Motala. I asked Lars-Göran if the name meant anything in Swedish, but he said that it was not a Swedish word. Of course, I already knew that, but was just checking in case they had hijacked it as they seem to do to so many English words.

To my non-Australian readers, I should explain that the township of Ceduna is situated on Eyre Peninsula in the far west coast of my beloved home state - South Australia. The name comes from the Aboriginal word Chedoona, meaning "a place to sit down and rest". I'd dearly love to know what was the story behind an Australian Aboriginal name being on a fishing boat whose home port is Karlshamn in the south of Sweden. Unfortunately there was no-one around to ask, but I felt that little tug of home on my heartstrings all day.




After filling the tanks, we went around the corner and past the citadel that was built to protect the township and into the main guestharbour situated right in the middle of town. And what a lovely town it turned out to be. There are 30,000 people living here, but it still has an old fashioned charm and a leisurely pace, with the town well laid out and a joy to walk around.




The town was founded in 1666 as a border fortress against Denmark. See, they weren't always so friendly towards the neighbours. The town was designed and laid out by a fortification expert, but was burned down several times by invading Danish forces - the last time was in 1710. Many of the buildings around the harbour date from around that time.




This has always been a harbour town and as such has been known as a rough place in older times. Karlshamn was also known as the embarkation point for many of the more than 1.4 million Swedes who fled poverty and starvation for a better life in America during the nineteenth century. Over a period of around 90 years, Sweden lost a quarter of it's population to mass emigration to the States.

We walked down to the harbour park, where high on a hill is a wonderful statue to commemorate the mass migration. It is called Utvandrarmonumentet (The Emigrant Monument) and features two characters from a well known book. Karl-Oskar and Kristina are depicted at their point of embarkation. The statue represents the split feelings one has as you prepare to leave your homeland for good. Karl-Oskar is shown looking straight ahead towards the ship that will take him across the sea to a new future. Kristina on the other hand is turning back as she casts a lingering gaze to farewell her old homeland. It was a moving experience to stand here and look at the statue.




The characters come from a seies of novels written between 1949-1961 by Swedish writer Vilhelm Moberg. These novels describe one Swedish family's migration from Småland to Minnesota in the late 18th century, a destiny shared by over one million people, including several of the author's relatives. These novels have been translated into English and are well worth reading to help understand life in Sweden at the time as well as the hardships and joys the family experienced. The novels are called The Emigrants, Unto a Good Land, The Settlers and The Last Letter Home. They are not that difficult to read in Swedish either and were among the first Swedish books I read after I completed SFI. So for those immigrants here in Sweden, I recommend them in Swedish as well. Look out for Utvandrarna and Invandrarna.




We spent a long time exploring the streets, looking at the old buildings and reading about their history. One of the homes was the birth place of Alice Tegnér, who wrote many popular children's rhymes. This excited Lars-Göran who broke out into a rendition of one of her classics "En sockerbagare här bor i staden..."




We were able to browse around the shops a little as well, picking up a few second-hand books, some groceries, a new battery for the barometer/wind metre and of course the all important icecream. We visited the church, wandered around the market stalls in the big town square, bought a few postcards and even remembered a birthday card for my brother-in-law. Won't he get a shock? It has been an enjoyable experience and we both love the town.

When we returned to the boat we found that the wind had picked up considerably. Where was it when we needed it this morning, I wonder? Anyway, we thought it best to leave before the harbour became too uncomfortable. The area is totally open to the south east and the wind was howling in and stirring up waves. Our goal for the evening is a small nature harbour on the island of Tärnö which is just a few nautical miles away. With this brisk wind we are sure to be anchored safely and sipping our red wine in an hour or two. And I can show Lars-Göran exactly where Ceduna is on the map. Presuming that it IS on the map in our Swedish atlas, that is!