Another gorgeous, clear sunny day. There is not a cloud in the sky and already there are many boats out taking advantage of this late but welcome summer. We passed by a beach on our way out of the bay near Trosa and it was jammed packed with people. What a crowd. And yes, the motor boats were also unfortunately out in force. I notice more and more of them the closer we get to Stockholm.



We had a wonderful day of sunshine, breeze and sights. We are up early today, enjoying the peace and tranquillity of this magnificent place. We are close to townships, but it seems as though we are out in the wilderness. I believe there is nothing as lovely as summer sailing in the archipelagos. What a country this is, my new homeland! Beautiful craggy islands, the smell of fresh pine and heath. A fresh breeze blowing towards us over crystal clear waters from the sea which winds it way into the remotest corners. Where in summer, the sun rarely disappears and people are happy and cannot restrain their joy at escaping from the eternal darkness of winter.

I have travelled the whole world and I know that I have never received stronger impressions than here. In Sweden, the contrasts are so enormous. The sea is so deep when I lean over the rail of the boat and imagine the extraordinary world deep down in the water. And the cliffs rear up around me, jagged and bare. To feel the wind and the sun on your face and the smell of the trees, the rocks and the earth on your skin is a life changing experience.

It is a great contemplative place here in the little corner of the world! This was what I was thinking as we anchored in a bay near our future home of Skärlinge, enjoying the sunset.



In the morning, the chattering of our two cockateils brought a flock of swallows to our boat. It was lovely to sit down to breakfast and have our own private little zoo join us for the morning. Our birds are delighted and chatter away happily. I wonder if they understand each other at all? This time, Lars-Göran took a picture of the birds as he doesn't trust me after the last embarrassing effort at Djursö.



Show off!

We set off to catch a bridge opening. This bridge joins the islands of Oxnö and Svärdsö, not too far from Nynäshamn. We've never been this way before as we usually prefer open waters and ...well...err...ummm...actually we didn't realise that the bridge opened or that the tiny channel of Abborrströmmen was safely navigable. But again, referring to my 30 year old book of east coast harbours and studying the charts I convinced Lars-Göran that it would be worth having a try, just to experience something different.

First we waited for the bridge opening.



While waiting for the opening, I was raving on and waving my hands about and got myself bitten by a wasp! Man did that hurt like hell. I think it stung for the rest of the day and was swollen for several days. However, I didn't let that distract from the lovely area we found ourselves in. I can't believe that this place is virtually in our backyard and that we had never been here before. First we negotiated the little sund that was barely wide enough to fit our boat through. Check out the location of that yellow house. What an outlook!



When we rounded the corner we found ourselves in a long stretch of water with land on both sides. It was like being in a lake, but we were at sea. The shore was lined with cottages. Some of them had built jetties and small sunhouses by the water. In Swedish, these are called lusthus. I got rather excited at the idea of a "lust house" but it turns out that the Swedish word lust translates as more like joy, delight, pleasure. Rats! One or two places had long, steep staircases down the cliff to their sun house. Can you imagine getting to the bottom with your coffee and discovering you'd forgotten the milk?



I can assure you that it wouldn't be ME going up and down those stairs. I also saw a really cute little lusthus - what we thought looked a lot like a moomin house. But I didn't see any sign of the Hattifatteners (my favourites)



Our journey ends in a calm bay called Soviken, on the southern end of the island of Torö. From our anchor place we get a view of our beloved lighthouse of Landsort (a mere 17NM from home).



A lot of the local tourist guides point out that Landsort lighthouse is "the oldest lighthouse in Sweden". I used to believe this as well, but when reading about Swedish lighthouses, I discovered that the ones at Falsterbo on the south coast and Kullen on the south-west coast are in fact older. When I pointed this out, I was told "But those were part of Denmark at the time they were built. Landsort is the oldest lighthouse built by Swedes in Sweden." Talk about splitting hairs!

It is very hot today. Even the pets need shelter.



We spent a few days in the sunshine lazing around and enjoying the surroundings. A trip in the dinghy shows some of the small islands around the area. Many of them have little cottages on them.



You think you are out in the middle of nowhere and then you round the edge of the island and see the township of Ankarudden. You can reach this town by bus from Nynäshamn. I think it takes around half an hour. From here you take a ferry across to the island of Öja, where Landsort is situated.



In the evening, we looked out across the bay. It's not a really big place, but 13 sailing boats lay by anchor in the gentle sunset - and you could hear a pin drop. It was so peaceful, despite the number of boats. What a contrast to the frenzy of guest harbours. We are lucky in Sweden to have such a plethora of islands and bays to anchor in, as well as the unique system of Allemansrätt ("all mans right"). In Sweden this Right of Public Access allows you to roam about freely.



But we didn't do too much wandering around. The sun was quite fierce for the furry member of the crew, so we kept aboard and made sure she was well sheltered.



She certainly looks as cool as a cucumber in there. And cooler weather is forecast tomorrow, so we'll head north again.

With such beautiful weather, we've decided to by-pass Nyköping as it would require us to motor a long way along a dredged channel. Not funny when the conditions are perfect to set sail. Again, we glide along the beautiful, calm waters admiring the small islands that we pass.



While sailing along, we came across the strangest paint job we have ever seen on a boat. It was a Maxi 77 (quite a common small sailing boat here in Sweden) and it would usually look like this. In fact, before we bought Fiona, we owned this boat's little sister, a Maxi 68. Anyway, I did a double take when I spotted the Priscilla Queen of the Desert model. What were they thinking? Were they thinking? We sailed very close to the boat and I was shy about openly taking a photo, so like the true chicken I am I waited until we had passed *grin*



As the day wore on, it became quite hot and the beaches were really crowded. There are no long, sandy stretches of shore like I'm used to seeing in Adelaide. Most of the coast around here is rocky and people set themselves up on the rocks. It can be quite deep even at the point where the rocks meet the water. Around the islands near home, it can be 20m deep just a few metres from the shore, so you don't tend to get people staying a long time in the water. Most people lie on the rocks and when they feel too warm, they take a quick dip. It's quite a different way of looking at things. But like Aussies, on a hot day the Swedes flock to the water.



The islands are surrounded by lots of large bare, smooth rocks. There were also several small well-wooded islands and a smattering of little traditional red and white cottages. The wildflowers are all out at this time of the year and it is a blaze of colour and perfume. Again, we admired the summerhouses lining the shore. How wonderful to own a place like this, right on the water's edge. Lucky people!



The beach is not the only busy place - out on the water, there are billowing white sails as far as the eye could see. Doesn't it look great?



We came to a narrow channel and it was quite a squeeze. The boats travelling south had the wind behind them, so they were moving forward in a more or less straight line. Those of us travelling north, however, had the wind directly on our nose, so we had to tack - ie sail in a zig-zag pattern. It was quite funny to watch, though a bit hairy to be in the middle of it.



The islands are almost round, much higher and the vegetation is also quite different, with less of the birch that dominates the islands around Stockholm. The air was filled with the strong scent of fir, spruce and pine needles mixed with that lovely fresh, salty sea air. Many islands around here are protected areas for sea birds and the grey seal. I saw (and heard!) plenty of sea birds, but though I kept my eyes peeled, I didn't spot another seal. But I did find another house with a enviable view.



How cool to have your own personal lighthouse. The next bigger town that we headed towards is the delightful, historical Trosa. We sail here quite often as it isn't too far from Nynäshamn and I always admire the turn of the century wooden houses lining the little canal.



I wanted to take some photos of the town itself but my digital camera batteries died. However, I did manage to find a bank and withdraw money and stock up on food and drinks.

By the time I'd finished shopping it was quite warm and when I returned to the boat, I saw that Lars-Göran had filled up our tanks with fresh water and set up little umbrellas in the cockpit for the birds. And he and Lambi were looking rather warm up on the foredeck.



It was so hot that my sunny bunnies had to go and cool off in the shade. They look very content.



Now we have supplies again, we can set off before the crowds start to flock to the guest harbour. While it's very convenient to stop here for an hour or so, we don't like the harbour life that starts up in the evening - lots of loud, drunk people in party mode. We stay the night in a peaceful, private bay. Paradise!

Well, what can I say, it seemed a good idea at the time. But if I suggest sailing in Bråviken again, just shoot me.

We stayed at Harstena for a couple of days as there were very strong winds, rain and then thick fog. And yes, as I said last time, I finished the last chapter of my library book and closed it with relief. I really should have stopped reading it 500 pages ago. Why do I feel compelled to finish books that I’ve started reading? The book was Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth. Set in medieval England and spanning about 50 years, it is a historical saga which chronicles the lives of people building cathederals. I really like historical fiction and was looking forward to reading this book. Indeed, I loved the first half of it, especially the parts dealing with the actual construction work of the cathederal and the whole historical backdrop of Maud and Stephen fighting for the crown of England after the death of Henry I. Great stuff! Mind you, it wasn't perfect. The bad guys were drawn as completely evil - no redeeming features at all while the good guys were so saintly that I wanted to throw up once or twice. And the female characters were rather more post-Germaine Greer than medieval in their language and relationships, but the narrative drove it along and I chose to overlook these few annoying features.

However, the last 500 pages were awful. It turned into a sappy soap opera that made the plot of The Bold and The Beautiful sound plausible. And so many convenient co-incidences to tie threads together that even Charles Dickens would have been embarrassed. I can't wait to return it to the library!

After the fog lifted a little we left Harstena and headed north. Visibility was next to zero and we had to rely on our navigation program and GPS to help us get through the area. It was a bit creepy doing that, as it was very still, deadly quiet and it felt like we were alone in the world. We didn't meet another boat all day. I was worried, but Lars-Göran used the instruments to guide us blind through the stones and into a safe and very picturesque bay at a place called Lammskär (lamb skerry - and yes, there were sheep here as well). It was eerie to watch the islands suddenly appear out of the mist. We did meet an old German sailing boat as we headed into the bay



The next morning it was brilliant blue skies, a brisk breeze and a balmy 26C and the boats were out again in force. What a contrast to the last few days.



We headed northwards again towards civilisation. We needed to do some serious food shopping but I needed to get to an ATM first and they are hard to find out here. I must have been mad not to withdraw enough money to last the whole time. My card works at the ATM, but not at the supermarket (don't ask!) so I ought to have kept cash on me. So we needed a place that had a bank. Hmm.. not many banks around here:



We do find places along the way with shops BUT no banks. How do they survive? Even Arkösund which is a large town and very popular in the summer has no bank or ATM. While it is very pretty, our cupboard is looking very bare so we must by-pass it.



We decide ... well, okay I decide that it might be nice to go towards Bråviken and we hope that the town of Nävekvarn has a Bankomat (what the Swedes call an ATM). You can see where we sailed on this map. I read a little about the town in our guest harbour guide and it seemed like it would meet our needs. Well, that was not to be. We had wonderful sailing all day and looked forward to docking in the town's harbour in the early evening.



While it was a pretty place, the harbour was quite uncomfortable because of the waves sweeping in straight from the sea. We thought we'd do the grocery shopping then quickly leave. But there was no Bankomat! Well, we have enough to last a day or two, so we'll have to try further up the coast. Very annoying.

But not as annoying as the long, frustrating day of tacking slowly along to open water. It took forever! We had to share the water with quite large boats and dodge the waves they threw up.



After six hours of a slow zig-zag course in the fickle winds, we decided to start the motor and head towards Oxelösund. We toyed with the idea of trying to stop there and shop, but when we saw the town again we knew we couldn't bear to spend 1 minute there!



*shudder*

Nope, we aren't that desperate. We decide to drop anchor in a small bay just north of the town.



Ah... a much better view. The winds look like they may be more favourable tomorrow, so we'll decide just where we can go in the morning.

This place turned out to be the real find of this holiday. What a gorgeous place! I'm talking here about the island community of Harstena. There are some beautiful photographs of the island here (just click on the picture to go to the gallery). Some friends of ours told us about it last year but we never got a chance to come here. I saw that it was not too far away and would give us more protection from the forecast strong gales.

We moored in a protected bay graced by majestic juniper, larch and oak trees to the west of the main settlement and took the dinghy into town. I was enchanted with the village and quickly realised why this island was so popular as a day trip from the mainland. We normally shun the obvious tourist places as they are often crowded and many times very disappointing, failing to live up to their promises. But Harstena was a pearl. Honestly, it's like a place that time forgot.

Our fisrt glimpse was of several fishing shacks on the outer entrance to the main bay.



We then caught sight of the main town, hugging the shore around BÃ¥tsviken. I think what took me by surprise was the size of the settlement. I hardly expected to see a township of several hundred right out here on a remote island in the outer archipelago.



The town used to be the centre of the seal hunting industry in Sweden. There are old photos showing the boats heading out for seal hunts and views of the outer islands with huge seal colonies on them. Of course the industry collapsed in the 1950's after the near extinction of the animals. With the Baltic seal on the protected list, the people in Harstena rely on tourism and fishing to survive.

To reach the township from the west, you follow a narrow, dredged channel lined with boat houses - no, not house boats to live on, but shed to house the boats. It looked as though the local seagull population was anxiously awaiting the arrival of the fishermen.



When you round the channel, you come to a beautiful inner lagoon - quiet, peaceful and really picturesque with its old buildings and boats lying on the shore.



We moored our dinghy on a rock after asking someone if this would be okay. One of the problems of living in a place like this is that visitors tend to leave their boats everywhere and disrupt the normal activities of the town. We were anxious to avoid that and made sure our boat was well out of the way. From this point, yoy can look north towards the official guest harbour.



What looks like a boat shed in the foreground of the picture is in fact a rather well known, popular restaurant, serving local seasonal food. We first went and looked at the guest harbour and stopped at the small kiosk to buy fresh milk, icecream and a couple of postcards. I sat writing the postcards and Lambi kept guard.



We then wandered over to the post office and on to the main village. It really was a little piece of Swedish history. The houses were all quite old and very well preserved. We didn't take too many pictures as it was also rather open and full of inhabitants out in their gardens. There is nothing worse than tourists tramping all over the place, looking at you like you are a zoo exhibit and snapping away totally invading your privacy. But we were both in love with the town.



Several of the houses had tables set up outseide with postcards and handcrafts for sale. These were not manned, you just took what you wanted and left money in a tin. We were in for another surprise when we visited the bakery. I like to buy at these little shops in the islands as it helps them to afford to live out here and I'm grateful that they offer the services they do. The bakery was in one of the little red cottages at the south end of the island. Lars-Göran went in and bought some bread and wienerbröd (what we'd call Danish pastry). He said that it was the same deal in the bakery. The freshly baked goods were on display and you helped yourself, put them in a bag and left money in the tin on the counter. I can't think of another place that I've seen such trust in the better side of human nature! I was embarrassed to think that not many Australians would have been honest enough to allow a system like that to work. As well as the kiosk, bakery and restaurant, there was a smokery where you could buy smoked and fresh fish.

Lars-Göran said the place brought back childhood memories of living in Malax, Finland. He said it looked just as he remembered it.



We are hoping to sail to Finland next year, so I'll be able to see how accurate his memory is. But there is no doubt that this is a perfect place to live. There are regular daily ferries to the mainland, so you aren't too cut off but still you can choose to be at peace out here. I think we'd both enjoy this kind of life.

The other wonderful thing we found here was that it was overgrown everywhere with hallon (raspberry) bushes. They were bursting with ripe fruit, so we made pigs of ourselves again. I wished I had brought a bucket ashore with me.



I think we'll be back here again for a visit. Now we have to batten down the hatches and wait out the bad weather that is headed this way. I guess I'll be able to get in a day or two of lazy reading before we head off again.

We keep moving through this very attractive group of skerries. The wind is brisk and we make good speed. Of course the sunny conditions make it ideal. Lars-Göran thinks it looks a lot like the Finnish archipelago around Malax where he grew up. Certainly the cottages and larger buildings dotted around the islands have a less formal appearance than Swedish stugas I am used to seeing in the Stockholm Archipelago. There is something very rustic about them.

This is really a stunning place, with quite varied countryside ranging from the inner islands with soft hillocks, oak meadows and other hardwoods, through to larger islands with a wealth of rich and unusual flora to the outer skerries where only lichen grows. We are here at a perfect time, as we see some unusual birds like the white-tailed sea eagle, the osprey, eider and coot. The meadows are white with wood anemone and on the islands in the middle archipelago, I spot some of the lovely orchid called “Adam and Eve� in bloom. Another thing that surprises me is how quiet it is here. It’s not hard to find a secluded cove or a special spot to anchor. The possibilities are endless. The wilderness feel is still strong here and I like the fact that is is far less developed than the Stockholm archipelago.

We are staying just around the corner from the lighthouse at Häradskär.



The coast consists of numerous islets, rocks and shoals. The main light shines from from a 29m high tower, standing on the south end of this island. Many tiny fishing harbours lie within the inlets which indent this section of the coastline. Between this point (Häradskär) and the island of Arkö (lying 20 miles to north), these inlets cannot be entered from the open sea. It is far too littered with shoals. I remember when we sailed the boat home from Göteborg in November 2001 we were stunned when we looked at the sea charts and saw that there was literally no route into the area. We had to make a decision at Oskarshamn whether to chance navigating inside this rock strewn area or sail in a 24 hours shift directly to Nynäshamn far out at sea. In the end we chose the latter course as it was getting colder and darker as each day passed and we didn't want to take our chances with our new boat in such an unknown place. But in summer, it looks much more benign.

The islets and rocks which front the main shore extend up to 12 miles out to sea in places. As the mainland is generally too low in this area to be seen from offshore, it can feel very lonely out at sea. I'm glad to be inside the archipelago and get a chance to look at some of the islands. We are anchored in a tiny bay that is over 6m deep where it meets the shore, though there are places where I can see waves breaking the surface close by - a sure sign of rocks lying just below the surface. You need your wits about you while navigating here.

One place I read about in the book about east coast harbours was the island of Gubbö Kupa. This is very close by and we decided to take the dinghy around for a look, because the booklet talks about a great view from the monument on top of a 30m high hill. As we approached the island, we spotted the monument:



The monument itself is actually a navigation marker called a kummel in Swedish. This translates to a cairn in English. These were made of stones piled on top of each other and usually sited at strategic points along the shipping routes. Many of them were painted with tar as it helped to make them more visible (the blackness standing out a lot more against a cloudy sky).

On the island, there is no direct path to the kummel, so we thread our way through the forest and I feel like I'm on a teddy bear's picnic. There are berries EVERYWHERE - lingon (a kind of mountain cranberry) bushes are bursting with berries, though they are not quite ripe yet. What are ripe, though are blackberries, called björnbär in Swedish - literally "bear berries". I couldn't believe my eyes.



It was like a childhood memory. In Adelaide, these are an introduced species and areas of the hills had been over-run with them. I still remember going on annual blackberry picking excursions when I was a kid. We would scour the bushes that grew along the side of the road around Crafers, Aldgate, Mt Barker and so on. This is all pre-Great South Eatern Freeway days, by the way, when the main road into Adelaide meandered through these hill towns. Then once back home, mum would mix them with sugar and boil up a big batch of delicious blackberry jam.

But once I was an adult, blackberries were declared a noxious weed and spraying with lethal chemicals began. People were no longer allowed to pick the berries anymore and so that tradition died out. And here I was surrounded by them! So of course I had to stuff my face, just like I did as a kid.

The other beautiful sight was blueberries (blåbär) as far as the eye could see.



To me, they are still really exotic. They used to cost a fortune in Adelaide as they had to be freighted in from Tasmania. I guess our hot, dry climate is all too much for them. Despite the high cost, I used to buy them quite regularly and eat the whole punnet for lunch. And here are thousands of punnets worth just begging to be eaten. I pinch myself to see if I'm dreaming, then happily jump in and start picking. Bliss!

We then continued to climb up the last steep section before the summit.



The sign talked about the history of the place. This kummel was erected in 1826, replacing a beacon that had existed here since the Iron Age (1,200 BC to 555 BC). Beacons were a really clever warning system they used in Sweden. This place has a great view of the islands stretching out into the Baltic, so it was manned around the clock. If an invading fleet was spotted, this beacon was lit. As the beacons were placed at strategic points along the coast, the next beacon station, seeing this beacon alight, would light their own. This continued along the coast and inland, giving inhabitants enough warning to run away or to assemble a force to fight. And when you read a little of the volatile history of this region you will see that such a system was vital.

The view from up here was well worth the effort of climbing.



It's hard to believe that all of this is so deserted. The Stockholm archipelago would be full of sailing boats at this time of the year. But we are grateful for the peace. You can get an idea of the size of the kummel here:



It's been a lovely few days looking around this area and eating all of those berries, but the forecast tomorrow is for gale force winds that makes us feel our little anchor spot is a bit exposed. We'll move on I think. Our view for this evening (we are talking 10.30pm!) shows a beautiful sunset.



Who needs TV?

No, these are NOT a few of my favourite things! I’m talking about those pesky Canada Geese that appear to be everywhere. They are an introduced species and as such have become a nuisance in Sweden, wiping out populations of the local and much smaller geese and interfering with human pleasure by leaving copious amounts of droppings in every available bit of parkland they can find.

I’ve seen masses of them here in St Anna as well. They are large and not unattractive to look at and I’m sure they look great in Canada… but not here! I saw a group of 6-7 adults on a small island today and as we sailed past I yelled out “Hey, geese, this isn’t Canada! Go home now!� and they all flew off immediately. Even L-G was impressed, so maybe I should consider goose clearing as a future job option.

After leaving Mon, we thought of heading towards Fyrudden, (where he has fond memories of this) but decided that we’d already been there last season so we wanted to see something else. At our local boat club second hand sale last spring, I bought an old book about harbours and places to see in the east coast. While leafing through the book, I thought we could take a look at the nearby Gryt archipelago. The book spoke of good anchoring places, so we turned off the south route and headed east.

We were sailing along a tight sound between islands when we were passed by a powerful motorboat at top speed. What were they thinking? In a narrow place like this you should reduce the speed to 5 knots or less. But this guy was doing at least 30 knots! We were concerned for a group of eider ducklings that were swimming across the waterway and also for some small children that were bathing nearby. The wash from the motor boat creates quite big waves and these richocet repeatedly off the islands. We signaled for them to slow down but were greeted by an obscene hand sign. There have been quite a few accidents this summer involving power boats driving without due care and at excessive speed. Luckily nobody has been killed, but it's a near thing.

The bay we chose for the evening was really peaceful and secluded, near the village of Kråkmarö. While preparing dinner I could have sworn that I heard sheep bleating. Sheep? Out here on a tiny island in the middle of nowhere? But sure enough, there on the rocks were a small group of sheep.



A lot of the area around here is designated nature reserve or national park, so I was quite surprised to see the sheep. Lars-Göran told me that these grazing rights are protected under ancient laws and while they are nature reserves, these previously granted rights are upheld. It's not a free-for-all however. You are not permitted to build a permanent abode on the island, numbers of stock allowed are quite small and they must have as little impact as possible. It hardly seems economically viable.

He also told me of some enterprising people who tried to get around the law. They wanted to build a summer house, but that was absolutely out of the question. However, it was permissable to build a modest shelter for the sheep in case of bad weather. So this particular man built his sheep shed - complete with picture windows, fireplace, wooden floors, tv, stereo, kitchen, bedroom... you get the picture. Several others nearby (probably jealous because they didn't think of it themselves) dobbed him in to the authorities. The case went to court and he tried to argue that it really was for the sheep - they liked music, needed a view etc. Not surprisingly nobody was fooled and he had to demolish the structure.

After dinner, we rowed over to the island for a sheep's eye view of the surroundings.



Well, I can see why the sheep needed a picture window.