We woke up this morning to a clear, beautiful sunrise and a half promising forecast. I say half promising as we had hoped to head eastwards out to the outer reaches of the St Anna archipelago as we both love the landscape out there. The bare garden of rocks and skerries is so inviting, but in the strong easterly winds they are forecasting, we will be rather exposed to the whims of the Baltic. We felt more like a lazy sail today, so we thought we'd head south west instead and explore the inner, more protected islands behind the nature reserve at Väggö. We are still going to be in this area for a couple of weeks, so there is plenty of time for the weather to get its act together.

For once we were among the first ready to leave, trying to make the most of the warmish, clear and sunny conditions as another bout of wind and rain is due to sweep in tonight. I kept looking around at the calm, peaceful conditions and I couldn't imagine that it was going to change again so soon. However the plunging barometer is perversely telling another story, so I have to accept that it's inevitable. Unfortunately.




Again, it is practically deserted here and we can look around at our leisure and just enjoy the passing islands. It is remarkably deep water, which makes navigating easier and I know Lars-Göran is enjoying being in his t-shirt and shorts and sailing barefoot for the first time this summer. Downwind sailing is always a little warmer as we have the wind behind us and we are loving the gentle sway of the boat and the interesting skerries. These are rocks that have been highly polished by glaciation until they shine in the sunshine. When you sail in an area like this, it's not as though you are in the sea at all, but rather sailing through a chain of lakes in a great and vastly unspoiled nature.




Just when I was beginning to get too comfortable, I happened to look behind us and saw an extensive area of grey rain out to sea. Was it heading this way or not? We looked at it over an interval of ten minutes or so and decided that it was definitely heading this way, so Lars-Göran rolled in the foresail, started the motor and pointed the boat towards the wind. Meanwhile I plucked up cushions, jackets, books etc and threw them inside, shutting the companionway hatch, covering Lambi's basket with a waterproof covering and grabbing a couple of big umbrellas out of the cockpit stowage area. It was just as well because when the rain hit, after a fitful pause or two to position itself right over our boat, it bucketed down for a solid twenty minutes while we huddled under umbrellas. Great Zambesis of water flowed over me and I wondered if I'd been teleported to Victoria Falls and that Henry Stanley would step over the rail and say "Dr Livingstone, I presume?"

When the rain got bored and moved on, it was clear again and we mopped up, dried off ourselves and the cockpit, made a cuppa and discussed perhaps finding a place to stay for the night. Of course, I immediately voted for a look at Kättilö, which was not too far away.




On the above map, it is located to the left of the larger island of Fångö. As you can see from the chart, there are a lot of grounds, islets, rocks and obstacles everywhere, so careful navigation is required. I had read a little about the island and it seemed historically interesting and anyway, I wanted to stay at the bay mentioned in the book - solely because it was called Chicken Point (Kycklingudden). Yes, I know I'm shallow, what can I say? It's the same impulse I have when we come to bet on something like the Melbourne Cup or at Oakbank. My family and friends would seriously check out the form of the horses and the odds offered, whereas I'd place bets willy-nilly on horses with funny names. I mean you HAVE to put your money on "Flying Mattress" or "Richard Cranium" or "Amanda Charlotte the Harlot" when you see them, don't you?

Anyway, as luck would have it, that bay was on the eastern side of the island, so not a good choice in these winds, so we chose a bay in the south west corner of the island, overlooking the main route, but deep inside and protected by trees and the occasional boat shed.




We were a little undecided about this place as it was surprisingly deep until quite a long way in and we didn't want to moor in a place that would be in the way for the island's inhabitants. We dropped anchor as far away as we could from the small piers and felt like we were right in the forest, with branches hanging overhead and the birds of the forest twittering so close by. But it was very quiet, no boat traffic around and quite green and pretty, so we decided to stay and hopefully get a chance to explore the island tomorrow if the rain eased.




The whole area around here has been inhabited from earlier times as the sound to the north-east of Kättilö (Barösund) was the only safe way in from the sea for those who wanted to come in and head up towards Stegeborg or Söderköping. There was at one time both a customs and pilot station on the island and the custom house which dates from 1780 is meant to be worth a visit. When both customs and piloting were discontinued from the island, it was turned into farmland and one of the largest farms in this area is run here.

In the morning, after the rain, we took the dinghy to the nearby pier, tied up and went for a walk around the pretty island.




It was relaxing, quiet and very interesting. You could see how hard life would have been for those who cleared the land of rocks and tried to eke out a living from the poor yielding small farms. I think the inhabitants back then would have been poor, life was both harsh and uncertain. Like today, a high degree of flexibility would have been required in order to survive in this archipelago. Alongside the farming, fishing and seal hunting would have provided the most likely livelihood, as they could trade these for grain and other goods they needed. We found a number of well preserved traditional buildings on Kättilö, though the number of working farms has dwindled to just one today.




There were a lot of butterflies in the fields and Lars-Göran was lucky enough to get a shot of one of them which was on a gravel pathway. He tells me that these were very common butterflies when he was a child but that he has not seen so many of them around in recent years and so he was rather chuffed that he snapped this one.

We tramped over fields full of late summer wildflowers, past paddocks full of laid-back cows chewing on the lush green grass and enjoying the total silence and real rural feel of the island. What we were not really expecting in this quiet little backwater was this:




A well maintained, fully functional, professional standard tennis court. "For the cows?" I asked Lars-Göran. But no, while these cows are no doubt very well looked after, Kättilö is not expecting to corner the market on tennis playing bovines. The explanation was found at the main settlement, where I read that during his heyday, when he was winning Grand Slam tournaments with monotonous regularity, Swedish tennis star Björn Borg had a summer house on this island. And naturally, he built a tennis court so that he could practice (as if he needed to practice!).

I can't think of a nicer place for someone in his position to unwind. It is really remote, quiet and a place where you have time to stop the merry-go-round of your life for a while, to setp off and take a deep breath. I imagine that the locals would have left him in peace and been fiercely protective of his privacy, making this an ideal retreat, much like Dannholmen (near Fjällbacka) was for Ingrid Bergman.




We returned to our picturesque bay just before the next downpour. This time we had a little entertainment as the bird's cage caught some of the rain. I was just about to shift it to a sheltered spot, when I noticed what fun they were having with their impromptu shower, so we let them catch the water on their wings and shake it off to their heart's content. Much like the birdies here. Who knew they'd love it so much?