It's busy, busy, busy times at Chez Nordström, with renovations in full swing and travelling around to collect bits and pieces being high on the agenda. It can be a bit frustrating to find things when you are in a new town and are not sure of what is available and where. But I'm not complaining as it is all a learning curve and has helped us make new discoveries. We've been to Vadstena Antik och Kuriosa, an amazing shop, housed in an old barn and full of used furniture and knick-knacks, located just on the edge of town. We had a ball fossicking around, marvelling at some of the appallingly tasteless items on display and wondering who on earth would ever have bought them!

It was not all ghastly, though, and a lot of it was really interesting and I enjoyed looking at the rooms set up as old kitchens, dining rooms and sitting rooms.




Lars-Göran loved being upstairs in the old hay loft, which he said smelled exactly the same as his grandfather's barn and while I found it a bit spooky, he was in his element. It was a very productive visit as well, because I found an old art deco style mirror and hall table that will be great in our hallway and we bargained a bit and happily brought it home. Pictures will follow once we have finished with the wallpapering and installed it.

Our hunt for suitable bathroom furniture and fittings continues after we had no luck finding what we wanted here. Who thought it would be so hard? Well, that's not quite true as we did find some lovely fittings at one local shop, but the price was unbelievable. I don't know how we kept a straight face as we read the price tags. Now if we'd bought a manor house, we would have been okay, but there was nothing for our much leaner budget. Still, I'm sure what I want exists, I'll just have to look around in Linköping.

We try and go out for a walk each day to explore the town and to get exercise for all three of us. The smallest, fluffiest member of the family is not thrilled by this, but we are trying to encourage her. Mostly we have been going to the outskirts, where it is decidedly rural.




This is about a fifteen minute walk from our apartment, up a hill with a view over the town. It was too hazy to take a picture of the town, but it looks very picturesque from here. You'll just have to take my word for it. Something that strikes me as we live with it every day now is how much work there is to do on a farm. The farmer is out every day doing something and the landscape changes daily as the season changes. I think it will be wonderful to observe it over the course of a year.




As we approached the boundary of the farm, the cows in the nearby field came out to say hello. I particularly liked this pretty brown and white calf who came tentatively over to look more closely at Lambi, who was none too keen in being noticed. However, I was loving it, especially the shy calf with those beautiful big eyes.

The other cows also came over for a look and a pat and this one even looked like it was talking to Lars-Göran. I now tease him by saying "I think your girlfriend is saying something". I so enjoy coming here to watch them graze peacefully and it's amazing when you think that only a couple of kilometers away is the center of town. Beyond here there's nothing but the occasional small hamlet or farmhouse and of course the fields. I love the fact that Vadstena is so small that the countryside is never too far. You can get out of the urban buildup within minutes!

Thanks to the fact that Vadstena is not one of those immense sprawling metropolises, everybody has access to a natural environment and has the opportunity to discover the countryside. Whether you walk by foot, take the bus or drive your car, it is always easy to reach. At the risk of boring you all, I have to say again that this place was heaven. There are some places that the minute you arrive there, you know that you belong there. This is really such a place.




While walking back home, we were chatting about sailing again and we thought it might be fun to go out for an overnight trip across the lake to an area on the other side which has a small archipelago of islands. We had visited the northern archipelago last year when we were here for a visit, but had not seen the smaller group closer to Karlsborg. Several people at the boat club had spoken warmly of an area called Ombo öar (The Ombo Islands) so we packed up and set off in the brisk winds for a rapid crossing of the water, taking around three hours to reach the first islands. This archipelago is made up of five small islands on the edge of the western shore, as you can see on this map from Visa Naturreservat.




It had been rather wavy out in the open water, but as it was a sunny day we didn't really mind and it felt so good to be out on the water again. As we made our way through the narrow opening to the island group, I was looking forward to anchoring and catching the last of the afternoon rays. But it proved to be somewhat problematic. I watched the depth drop from 50 metres outside to around 5 metres and falling as we came through the heads. Then suddenly, it started getting deeper and inside the islands the water was between 10 metres and 25 metres deep!

Okay, on to plan B, especially as the water was not all that still inside. Certainly there were no waves, but there was still quite a swell that was not comfortable. We could see a small sound marked on the chart as Djäknesundet that looked as though it might be more protected and hopefully a little more shallow. Imagine our surprise when we saw five other boats moored there - on a Thursday in autumn! We were a bit taken aback as we imagined we'd be alone and the bay itself was not all that inviting. There was a small pier that was full of the visiting boats and the only spot where we could safely anchor was in the middle of a spooky, dark, troll like wood and was ten metres deep. That meant laying out all 50 metres of anchor chain. And worse still, hand hauling it all in again (electric windlass, where are you? Are you listening, Santa?)

In the end, we saw that the boats at the pier were bunching up and one boat even lay on the outside of his friend's boat so we could have room at the sunny pier, which was really nice of them.




As it was still sunny, we decided to take advantage of it and have a look around. We read the information board and chose one of the walkways through the woods on the mainland. It was a really different landscape than any other place I had visited in Sweden. It borders on Tiveden, the ancient forest of the god Tis - a wilderness area between lakes Vättern Vänern. It was apparently this almost haunted area which separated the tribes of the Svea and the Göta from each other. One had to be very brave in those days to risk the bears, wolves and outlawed highway men of the so called "twelve mile forest". In places, it still had a primeval feel. We were not attacked by any bears or wolves and the only wildlife we saw was a little lizard sunning itself on a bench.




We saw light through the trees and made our way towards it and came across a rather extraordinary sandy beach, surrounded by high rocky cliffs. It was quite unusual and surprisingly calm compared with the wild waters outside. This was because it was in lee. I imagine that in strong easterly winds, this place would be like a crazy cauldron of swirling water and crashing breakers. Still, it was a pretty spot and I can see why it would be popular in summer.




We walked back through the woods and came out to a rather marshy area opposite where our boat was moored and looked across to the pier. There were a couple of young men fishing but apart from that, everything was quiet and serene. We chatted on the way back about our impressions of the island group and both agreed that it was okay, but nothing special and that if we had been in a larger archipelago, then we would more than likely have given this bay a miss and tried somewhere else. Still, you don't know these things until you've tried and we were not sorry to have taken a look.




The other thing which occurred to us is that this place is reachable by road as it lies on the mainland. That would make it less likely that we'd come in busier times as it could be crowded with day trippers. The other boat owners, who were all from Motala told us that normally one does not lie alongside the pier as we all have done as in season there are 20 or more boats here. We couldn't imagine why, but then the rather worrying thought occurred to me "Perhaps there is so little choice that this seems good". It's made me more determined to take the boat out to the coast, canal or not. I really need my fix of archipelago life with its myriad choices and variety of landscape to fit any mood. Am I being too fussy, I wonder?




The forecast in the morning was of real concern with the winds shifting to the south and increasing up to a strong gale. We needed to get home as Bruce and Sheila were there on their own and would need food and water by tomorrow at the latest - and the forecast for tomorrow was even worse. But I was worried about being out on the open water in these winds.




A quick look at the above map will show you why. As you can see, we are moored just above the town of Karlsborg and we need to get back to Motala with the winds sweeping up at gale force from the southern part of the lake. The water will be able to travel for over 100 kms unhindered and I'm not too keen to see just how big and powerful those waves will be. To make matters worse, it's becoming wavy in here as the water had started to sweep around the rocks and the wind is forcing the boat closer to the pier. So we were damed if we stayed or left and in a coin toss, leaving won, so we set out towards the opening, confident that things would be fine. I mean, it's a lake not the Southern Ocean and it was a gale not a ripping southerly buster. We were only three hours away from port, how bad could it be?




I have never been so scared in my entire life! Once we were out and saw the waves, it was too late to turn back and we had no choice but to continue on what turned out to be like being on a combination of the Mad Mouse and a giant washing machine. The boat handled the conditions well, but I was worried as we were in the midst of a churning sea, with long waves of around two to three metres high at intervals of about a boat length. What made it particularly dangerous was that they were breaking waves. Every fith or so wave actually broke over the boat as she ploughed into the water and we were constantly bathed in buckets and buckets of cold water as it crashed over the dodgers. Poor Lars-Göran, who was steering bore the brunt of it, but we both got a good drenching as water swirled over the deck and into the cockpit.

We had rugged up well and we were both wearing life jackets, life harness with a lifeline firmly attached to the boat, wellies, souwesters and oilskins. Though the rather iffy seams on my old Gill jacket were no longer really water tight and by the time we arrived at the other side after a three hour roller coaster ride, I was soaked down to my knickers. Even here, the water was slamming into the piers with great power and we were glad to round the peninsula at Råssnäs and into the comparative calm of our mooring buoy.




What about Lambi, you are all thinking? Well, she slept through it all, safe in her basket in a dry part of the cockpit under the sprayhood. She had been wearing her lifejacket and life line and her basket was covered with a waterproof jacket. "Waves? What waves?" she seemed to say as she stretched, yawned and shook herself when we uncovered her.

We on the other hand were cold and wet, so I heated up some soup while Lars-Göran lit the diesel heater and we both stripped off and put on some warm, dry clothes on. It's amazing how much better you feel when you are warm and dry with nice hot soup in your tummy. Then we picked up and sorted through some of the things which had been wet as we did not have the bilge pump on while we sailed and water had filled up the bilge and flooded some of the floor.

Up with the tent to keep out the wind, out with the sopping wet mat, the jackets, sailing overalls, life jackets and we set about creating order from the mess inside. We tend to stow things fairly securely, so I only had a few spice jars fall down from the spice rack, oven mits and tea towels that came off their hooks and a couple of leaflets and a book on the floor which got wet.

We rowed back to land in heavy winds and the threat of rain in a darkening sky, loaded up with plastic bags of clothes and linen that needed to be washed and dried. When I stepped on land, I nearly cried I was so relieved to be home again. Later in the evening, safe on my couch, warmed by a red wine, I wondered just how we had managed to get home in one piece. When you are out there in the situation, you have to simply get on with doing your job and concentrating on how you will do it. It is also very physically challenging so you don't get a chance to dwell. You must concentrate on the next thing to do and most important of all, to keep yourself on the boat. In the waters we found ourselves in today, it was wet and violent and we knew that if we fell overboard we'd have a ninety-nine percent chance of drowning. Quite a sobering and depressing statistic that makes me less inclined to go out on the lake in a southerly blow ever again. Perhaps I am meant to sail only in the protected waters of a real archipelago and leave the white knuckle stuff to people like Ellen Macarthur.