Well, I'm trying to keep positive about this dreary weather but it is starting to be so depressing. I associate this kind of greyness with November and I am not ready for that just yet. While we have had sunny days in June and July, we have had our share of rain as well, so it hardly feels like we have had a decent summer yet. We are also getting calls from friends in the Stockholm area telling us how beautiful, hot and sunny it is there at the moment. I gather it has been the best summer there for many years. Typically, we are elsewhere! They are really surprised that we don't have identical weather here in Blekinge, but I'm afraid we are in the mad grip of a continental rain system that we can't shake off. I'm starting to wish that we had stayed in Stockholm, though I know that had we done so, it would have rained there instead. Perhaps I am a rain magnet.

After a day at Tjärö, we had favourable winds to head east and our plan was to sail the narrow, twisting inner route which would give us some protection from the waves that were sweeping in from the south west. Like all plans, it was reality that bit into it once we were out on the route. We saw straight away that we could not keep the course we needed to as the wind was more south easterly. We were reluctant to start the motor as we have spent an obscene sum of money on diesel already this summer and anyway, this is a sailing boat, so we wanted to sail, dammit!

With that in mind, we headed out to sea, hoping to get some distance, then tack back to land. The boat is sailing quite sluggishly, probably because of the barnacle growth on the hull, so she doesn't feel right on the tiller. The waves out in Hanöbukten are choppy, short and steep, so it makes the going quite rough. We don't mind it so much, but Lambi is not happy and that adds to the tension. After a couple of hours, a look at both our present course and the chart shows us that we have to go out several nautical miles more than we hoped in order to get a good angle to head back into land. Adding this to the unhappy dog and the sluggish performance of the boat under sail, we started the motor and motor sailed about two nautical miles before we could find an opening in the rocks and a good course to sail. This is something else that is great about sailing in an island filled environment - you get protection from the waves behind the islands. When it is tough out in the open water, shelter is always close by.

When talking to people at Karlshamn, they had said that they felt there was very little in this archipelago for a boat the size of Fiona. So much of Blekinge is shallow and hopelessly rock-filled that they doubted we could find too many places to explore. It appeared that a motor boat or small draught sailing boat was recommended. Still, we wanted to see it for ourselves and come to our own conclusion. The archipelago itself is very pretty, but there are very few islands, so we will try and head for the larger area around Karlskrona in a day or so. For the night harbour we took a SXK bouy on the north side of the island of Saltärna, with a view of a pretty seaside town behind us. Saltärna looks to be quite an attractive place with just a few houses and a small pier and looked as though it could be inhabited all year round.




In the morning, we saw that the grey, overcast, showery weather was continuing but decided to sail anyway. There seems little point in continuing to hang around in one place as the long range predictions are for the same conditions. I saw on the news last night that areas south east of here, especially in Poland and parts of Germany are suffering from extensive flooding after the continuous rain. It is hard to believe that in Nynäshamn there are blue skies and temperatures of 28C. I keep checking the GPS to see if we really are in Sweden.

On checking the charts and our navigation books, I see there is a protected inner route that goes behind all of the islands as far as Ronnebyhamn. As gale force winds are reckoned to arrive late today I am not keen to be out in the open water for an extended period. Lars-Göran agrees that we should do a short hop today to a safe place then another short hop into the western end of the Karlskrona archipelago the day after.

With just the main and storm sail up, we made great speed though we kept looking anxiously at the depth-sounder which was hovering dangerously close to 1.8 metres at times. What was also keeping us alert was the twists and turns we had to make - some of them very narrow and seemingly impossible. "We go through there" I said, pointing at the 5 knot sign up ahead, wondering at the same time if we would fit through the narrow, reed filled channel. We did. Somehow.




Despite the swirling dark clouds, the lightning and rain showers we enjoyed sailing in this environment. There is always something interesting to look at when you are so close to land - a tree, a bird, a grazing deer, people on the shore or even the passing parade of waterfront homes.




This part of the country is known as the heart of Sweden's garden and sailing around these islands you can see why. Both the houses pictured here are on Karön, a beautiful but tiny island, just some 200 meters off the mainland. On the island there are around 15 villas built in the late 19th century as part of the boom in prosperity in the area brought about by the opening of a health spa. People would come over from continental Europe to take the treatments offered at these clinics and these villas are reminiscent of the days when this was one of northern Europe's most popular health resorts. I wonder why "taking the waters" went out of vogue?




We spent the night in a bay on the island of Gö and while I was scanning our books to see where we could go in the morning I found a reference to an island that we had passed on the way; one that had sparked curiousity on the part of Lars-Göran. We hadn't stopped at the time because the area was all dark blue on the chart (denoting a depth of between 0-3 metres) and our depth-sounder indicated that we were in water that was barely above what we considered safe. The book not only had a description of the island, but also a detailed chart of the passage we took, showing the water depth never fell below 2.1 metres. "We ought to go back and take a look at Harön" said Lars-Göran and I readily agreed as the weather was predicted to be stormy the next day and I really did not relish the thought of even a short trip across the wild open waters outside.

We set off towards the island, choosing a slightly different route there just to see a little more of the archipelago. We had seen the day before that there were signs on the island, next to two piers. I had peered through the binoculars expecting to see a few words in large type but instead found a bloody essay in tiny letters that I couldn't make out. I joked at the time to Lars-Göran that it would be funny if we went in really close to see what it said and it was something about forbidding you to be close enough to read the sign.

As we approached again, I was able to read the sign which merely said that boats were allowed to moor there freely but that the pier must be clear on Wednesdays between 7am and 12 noon for the rubbish collection boat to moor there. So we tied up to one of the piers and went for a walk on land.




The island was similar to many others that we have seen, with a combination of tangled woods full of berry bushes and a few bits of open pasture which were kept in check by a wandering flock of sheep. Everywhere we walked on the island we were surrounded by bleats carried to us by the strong wind. While we were sheltered where we were moored, the view from the southern side of the islands showed a grey, angry, foaming sea and when I sat down on the rocks to rest and have a drink, I had to hold on tight to Lambi so she wouldn't get blown away. All night we could hear the wind through the rigging and the waves pound against the southern shore like thunder, but we were safe and calm in our little bay.




In the morning, Lars-Göran was keen to get moving towards the belt of large islands near Karlskrona but I was dithering as I didn't know how bad the sea would be. Lambi has not been well and I don't want to stress her at all. If we can possibly avoid it by simply waiting another day, then I thought we should wait. He volunteered to walk over to the other side of the island to see how bad the waves were, as the winds had eased a little and they were supposed to shift more westerly which ought to help us move along fairly easily. He returned after a time and declared that the seas were calmer and we studied the chart and saw that we would only need to be out in open water for 5 nautical miles - approximately an hour's worth of sailing. What could happen in that time? So we set off in the afternoon bound for the Listerby archipelago.

The less said about this passage the better, I think. I don't think I have ever been more scared in my entire life. Once we reached open water, the waves were enormous and quite powerful, sweeping us towards the rocky shore. Had either of us guessed at what we were about to experience, we would never have left the pier. By the time we realised the danger we were in, it was too late to turn back. Any attempt to turn the boat in this sort of water would risk us being swamped. The poor dog was whimpering and shaking like a leaf and I had to hold her tight in a protected corner of the cockpit and pray that we would be okay. We had to stay wedged there and connected to our lifeline as any movement would risk us being flung overboard.

Meantime, Lars-Göran was struggling with the tiller, holding on with both hands and trying to keep the boat steady as she ploughed confidently through the water. Every so often a much larger wave would lift us up and slam the boat down into a pit. It was really scary to look across the bow and not see the horizon as the waves were so high all around us. I was sure we were going to be overturned at any minute. I was rehearsing my Mayday calls, ready to hit the distress button on our VHF (and thanking the stars that we had opted for the expensive model with this feature!)I can honestly say that it was the longest hour of my life. We were sailing blind, with no time to look at the chart - we just had to follow the electronic plotter, keep the boat out of shallow water and head to a lighthouse that marked the entrance to the channel we needed. The boat behaved beautifully and the birds remained oblivious of any danger but the rest of us were shitting bricks!

When we came screaming into the channel at full speed and we felt the waves reduce as the rocks provided a welcome seawall, I could have cried with relief. As we edged around to the north of the island of Aspö, it was peaceful and calm - like another world. Waves? What waves?




In the morning we had recovered enough from our ordeal to go ashore and look around. The stones you can see arranged on the shore are part of a labyrinth. You sometimes find these on islands around the Swedish coast that were used by fishermen. Many of them dating from the 13th century, though they seemed to have peaked in the 16th and 17th centuries. These rings of stones were built by the fishermen during rough weather and were believed to be used to entrap evil spirits (the smågubbar or "little people") who brought bad luck. The fishermen would walk to the centre of the labyrinth, enticing the spirits to follow them, and then run out and put to sea. This would ensure their safe return.




The whole island is preserved as a place that illustrates a "cultural landscape" in much the same way places like Ängsö are preserved in the Stockholm Archipelago. We were moored in Madviken (rather appropriate, I thought) and we had a view of the light, very open fields surrounded by woods made up of old hawthorn and oak trees. Some of the trees were so old that you need several people standing in a circle holding hands to go around the circumference of the trunk. On the other side of the island, it was more rocky and the wind was blowing and the current flowing strongly. Remember, this is inside a protected area - out in the bay, the waves are between two and three metres high. I know that doesn't sound much, but a three metre wave, if it breaks over a boat like ours could actually flip it over - all seven tons of her.




Can you tell that I haven't really fully recovered from yesterday's scary unintentional white water rafting experience?

There was a pier in a nearby bay that we could have moored next to, but we hesitated as we saw a big motor boat there and heard the unmistakable sound of tinny pop music blaring from the cockpit. We watched warily while the crew pranced around singing along with the song, each holding a tin of beer while setting up a bbq! Hmmm... this might be a long night.... No way would we put up with that, so we stayed where we were. I noticed in the evening that the local cows had come down to the water nearby to have a drink and check out the action. But as the motor boat people were busy barbequing one of the cow's rellies, they left quickly.




On the small island opposite us (Slädö), there were also well tended fields and these were used to graze ponies. They galloped up and down the island all day and looked like they were having a lot of fun. One black pony in particular was fascinated by our boat and often stopped to look across the water and see what we were doing. I have found horses to be very inquisitive animals and they won't give up until they are satisfied.





In the morning, the skies are still leaden and threatening rain at any second. We have an urge to keep moving and so we spent breakfast pouring over charts to see where we could go. One positive thing about the coastline here is that it is well sheltered behind a border of big islands from Hasslö to Sturkö. A large part of this archipelago was restricted for over 300 years because of naval operations held here. Up until 1997, foreigners were forbidden entry and even Swedish boats had many harsh restraints and no-go zones. Fortunately over the last ten years these have eased and it is now possible to sail in and enjoy the scenery and the settlements on this chain of islands and skerries.




It felt really good to be sailing in calm waters again and we could take the time to look at all of these large islands and the communities who live on them. The islands in this western part of the archipelago are mostly leafy beech woods and oak lined pastures with small fishing villages and the occasional church. We chose to go to the island of Bollö, where we could tie up to an old military pier no longer in use.




This was a quiet place with not a soul around. We have seen just a handful of sailing boats over the last couple of days and they are all foreign - mostly Germans. There are not many good anchoring spots in this part of the archipelago because a lot of the area is still occupied by the navy and the other areas are settled and you would be disturbed by local traffic. We've had a lot of rain again today but in between the showers we have been for a walk around the island, along the stone slabs that make up the shoreline. The dark clouds continue to sweep across the leaden sky and I am despairing of ever getting any of my washing dry. It has been hanging up for three days now, so I think we may have to bite the bullet and go into a guest harbour tomorrow and use their tumble drier.




The town of Karlskrona is only five nautical miles away, so that will be a quick trip and we can look around the town while the laundry dries. I have been curious about the town ever since Nynäshamn found itself competing with it when the government announced that it was rationalising the submarine forces and one of the bases had to go. In the end Nynäshamn lost out and our submarines that were based at the nearby island of Muskö in that fabulous James Bond like hole-in-the-mountain thingy were transferred lock, stock and smoking barrel to Karlskrona. Needless to say, Karlskrona was portrayed in our local papers in less than flattering terms. In short, they are THE ENEMY. I wonder if they will torpedo us if they see that our home port is Nynäshamn? Or will they be gracious in victory? I guess we'll find out tomorrow.