While we've had no rain, it has been sunny though cold, as well as wild and very windy. It's amazing how the wind howls like a banshee through the trees and shakes at the windows. In Adelaide, I used to love days like this, with the wind roaring outside while I was all warm and cosy inside. I'm not sure why I love wind storms so much, but I have always done so. Perhaps it has something to do with my growing up by the ocean. On a stormy day, the ocean was so strong and vibrant that simply being beside the sea on such a day could quite take your breath away.

A short walk westwards from our apartment brings us to Tycklinge, a small but pretty narrow spit of land extending out into the lake. It has a sandy beach and is very popular in summer. Today with the strong westerly winds, the waves were rolling in, crashing against the shore with a repetitive and hypnotic rhythm that made me nostalgic for the beaches of my childhood. It lacked the sharp saltiness in the air that I so cherish about Australian beaches, but the noise was terrific and when I shut my eyes and listened, I still found it hard to believe that I was standing by a lake and not by Aldinga Beach.




Today, it is possibly around the same wind speed as when we sailed home, though now the winds are coming more from the west than from the south. Ironically enough, it would have been better for us to have waited and crossed over with these westerlies and avoided the terror of being swamped by a succession of breaking waves. Several members of the boat club thought we were crazy to have attempted that crossing in a southerly gale, but how were we to know? It's all this local knowledge that we lack and will have to learn again. Maybe. We in fact are discussing exactly what we will do with the boat in future seasons, but more about that when we know for sure. For today, we simply stood by the shore and enjoyed the view, happy to be safely on solid land looking out rather than being out in the cauldron. In the distance, you can see three of the giant wind turbines used to generate electricity. Methinks that it's no co-incidence that they are sited just here.




We wondered what it would look like further along the shoreline, so we packed a bit of a picnic and sought a sheltered spot with a panoramic view, in order to enjoy a little afternoon tea. I remembered a pretty hill we had stopped on briefly the other day when we visited Omberg. It was just a few kilometres from Vadstena and from what I recalled, it was sheltered from the west by large trees and we could get a view across to the harbour town of Borghamn from up there. My guess was that the waves would be quite spectacular from that vantage point. So we set off happily in the afternoon sunshine.

Obviously we were not the only ones with the same idea! Don't they look happy and cosy there? That was the table we would have liked, but we made do with one a little further up the hill and Lambi eagerly helped us with our picnic. There's never any chance of leftovers when you bring a dog with you.




It seemed intrusive to stay there while this father and daughter were enjoying their Saturday afternoon, so we set off again, hitting on the idea of checking out Hästholmen, the little harbour town we had also seen from the high point of Omberg. In strictly geological terms, Omberg is considered a horst which slopes steeply into Lake Vättern and dominates the surrounding plains.





When we went there with Madde, we found that the whole area has much to offer, such as expansive views towards Västergötland province on the other side of the lake, many cultural artifacts as well as the stunning nature. We were also quite struck by the view of the hill when we sailed across Vättern, rising high and looking so powerful. We were slightly busy as we sailed back (funny about that) the other day so I could not get a picture of what it looked like from the water, but I am determined to do so as it was quite arresting. This area has been inhabited since the Bronze Age and it is no wonder that a lot of mythology surrounds the mountain. During the Iron Age, the mountain offered protection to the people and traces of their fortresses remain. I think we'll be visiting and investigating the region quite a lot in future. But today it was off to Hästholmen, where the wind was screaming in and the waves crashing over the seawall.




The photo doesn't really do justice to the conditions, but it was incredibly wild at the guest harbour. There are two boats moored to the seawall. We saw the crews of the boat sitting outside watching the water and our guess was that they had crossed over from the western shore and probably in record time. But now they were stuck here as they had no hope of leaving here with such a gale blowing. I wondered how urgent their homeward trip was. They seemed restless, looking out at the water, as though willing it to calm down.

And just in case they were unwise enough to try their luck, there was a nasty surprise waiting out in the harbour entrance for a stray hull to crunch up. What a scary group of rocks and a glance at the charts showed that it is a rather tight way in as it is, with a high rocky cliff to the south, those rocks to the north and quite a shallow bay to the east. You need to come here in calm weather only as the margin for error is very small. Why is it that these rocks place themselves smack bang in the middle?




There was a small lighthouse on a bluff overlooking the guest harbour and the lake, so we decided to clamber up the narrow, slippery path and take a look at the spray being thrown up by the waves as they pounded the cliff face. We were well rugged up which was just as well because the ever blowing wind had a sharp edge to it. The wind was so powerful that we had to stand leaning towards it to hold our balance while we watched in fascination as the waves curled and broke then crashed against each other and the rocks, throwing up huge fountains of spray.




We stayed up there attempting to shelter behind the lighthouse, but the whipping wind was so strong that it simply came around the corner and blew at us anyway. Poor Lambi was zipped up inside my jacket with just her little head and floppy ears protruding to protect her from the cold wind. I dared not put her down as I was afraid she'd be blown away (or just run away back to the car as it was clear from her reproachful looks that she thought we were mad to be outside in this weather). Each time I looked down at her, I had to smile as I watched her little ears rise like spinnakers. Very cute. We were watching the huge swells coming in and Lars-Göran was trying to time the click of the shutter to get the spray as the wave hit the cliffs, which is never easy.




In spite of the wind, it was a glorious day, with a sunny, bright blue sky looking as though it was gift wrapped in huge, white, puffy marshmallow like clouds. The limestone in the rocks around this area tends to colour the water a unique shade of light blue, which is both very clear and quite pretty. On a still day, it would just exude peace and tranquility and lend itself to quiet contemplation. But not today with the wind furiously driving the waves relentlessly into the rocks. Looking up further into the harbour we could see that the swells were creating havoc with the other fishing boats moored there as well as with the boat houses by the shore, some of which looked to be in a rather precarious position.




Lars-Göran was in his element, but the complaints were coming loud and clear from the smallest member of the family who was squirming and sending out plaintive whimpers as though to say "Get me out of here!" I looked down and laughed again at her ears which were doing their full on Sally Field aka The Flying Nun impersonation and said I'd take her back to the comfort and shelter of the car. Lars-Göran walked down along the fishing boat piers, which were heaving in the rough water. The noise was incredible, with fenders squeaking, ropes straining, rigging literally screaming and shakes and groans coming from the lovely old fishing boat twisting at its mooring. There were several worried boat owners out there tying more ropes to their stricken yachts and it really focused my thoughts on mankind’s futile efforts to combat the forces of Mother Nature when she gets going. But none of this worried Lambi in the slightest once she was safely asleep in her carriage.




On the drive home, we talked about how sorry we felt for the sailors stuck there in the wind, which was forecast to last a few more days. Having almost been caught out in it ourselves so recently, we vowed never to go out on the lake without checking the more long range forecast. In many ways we are still thinking like sheltered water sailors, which is what you are in an archipelago. While you still get winds there, the belt of islands and shoals protects you from the huge waves like the ones we saw today. We also thought about where we could sail in the lake and the more we look at the coastline, the more certain we are that the only shelter is in towns like Hästholmen. While that is okay occasionally, we don't want to spend all of our time doing trips like that, particularly when we could do the same trip in a 20 minute drive from home.

These observations over the last few days have firmly cemented our gut feeling that our sailing will continue out in the coastal regions and with that in mind we will start investigating mooring places out there. I'd much rather drive an hour to the boat and take her out for weeks or months on end in that environment than put up with sailing from town to town in Vättern plus the hard work of doing the Göta Canal twice a season. We'd also be locked into the canal's timetable which is frustrating as well. And the annual expense of doing the canal trip (over $1500 a season) could be better spent on something far more entertaining - like more booze for the ship's bar. So, it looks like we'll be moving Fiona away from Lake Vättern in the spring and back to the sea - possibly here.




The wind did abate after a few days and the rain settled in for a while. One afternoon I glanced out of my kitchen window and saw these kids having a picnic in the rain. The large house and garden next door is what in Sweden is called a fritidshem. There is no direct word for that in English and my Swedish/English dictionary translates it as "after-school recreation centre for junior school children" if that makes sense. I guess in Australia it would be called "Out-of-School Care" or something similar. I prefer the simplicity of the word fritidshem (literally leisure hours home, which has a nice, homely feel to it). Anyway, as you can see, they breed them tough in Sweden. There's none of this staying warm and dry inside in wet, cold or even snowy weather here. The kids are simply dressed up and taken outside to enjoy the day, illustrating perfectly that Swedish saying which so annoys expats here - There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. (I can hear my friend Liz in Skåne screaming from here)




When the weather fines up, we always take a break from work and continue walking around and learning about our new town. This is a view from out on the sea wall, looking back towards the bay, with the church of St Birgitta on the shore and a little further away, the distinctive red tower, which quite sensibly is known in town as (what else) "The Red Tower" (Rödtornet). It is the remains of an older church (St. Per's Church dating from 1460). The church was deemed too large for a small parish of only 1,500 inhabitants, so in 1829, in a rather short sighted decision, it was demolished. The tower was allowed to stay and the clock was installed there as a useful addition to the town and today the tower and attached building houses the town's business centre. To the right of these and unfortunately not in the picture is the turrets of the Renaissance castle. The spires of those three buildings can be seen for miles in any direction and is the first glimpse of home for us.




We still love walking around the town and imagining we are in another time. There is very little car traffic around, though quite a few pedestrians and cyclists. The small side street where we live with it's old homes painted in warm colours and pretty window boxes seem to hit just the right note for us. It's such a change from our old home at Nynäshamn, where we lived on a long straight road where young men in their throbbing cars tore past us at what seemed like 250 kph. At least I thought they were young men as it is so hard to tell through the tinted windows. You know, I used to have regular fantasies about putting a chain of tyre-piercing steel spikes across the road? How nice to have left all of that behind me.




At dusk instead we can wander out to the lighthouse on the sea wall and contemplate the water. This lighthouse signals the beginning of the canal which leads into the guest harbour right in the castle's moat. A fitting welcome to Vadstena and a perfect place to just be.