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?