The November winds blow in blustery changes. Drizzling rain and overcast skies are becoming a familiar scene, so it was with a measure of joy that Saturday dawned cold but bright and sunny. And boy was it cold - I had to wear hat, gloves and my winter jacket for the first time this year. When I took the dog out for her early morning pee-mail run, it was a chilly 1.5C. While that is quite cold enough for me, some poor people in the north of Sweden had -25C last night, which is unbelievably cold for any time of the year, let alone October.

On Friday night, we had another call from Lars-Göran's daughter to ask us to vote for a friend who is competing in a tv show called Idol. I've never seen more than a microsecond of it and in that time I decided that it was obviously designed for the brain dead. From what Annelie told us, it is a so-called reality tv show (the sort of tv genre I despise) where a group of young performers compete over several weeks to get a recording contract and become an instant popstar. I believe this involves cameras following them around all week recording their lives and a few trumped up "dramas" (insert rolling eyes). They then perform whatever they have been rehearsing that week, get feedback from a panel of celebs and then people watching can ring up and vote, with one person being eliminated each week. She rings us with a number for her friend and both Lars-Göran and I have to SMS our vote to that number via our mobile phones! It's rather funny when you think that we have no clue who we are even voting for.

But we put all of that behind us as we went out into the chilly sunshine and walked down to the church, which stands on a high hill commanding views across the park and harbour and is an ideal spot to sit and admire the changing seasons. I have noticed that the colour of this autumn's leaves is different to that of last year. I remember last years as being more in the red and golden spectrum. This year the colours appear to be more yellow and brown, but it is still a glorious sight on a sunny day.




We then turned towards the main street, where the autumn market was about to get underway. This is an annual event, sponsored by the local Lion's club and is always full of an interesting mixture of stalls and produce. Inevitably there are also a lot of tacky, crap stalls but so far they are very much in the minority. Even though it is still early in the morning, a sizeable crowd is already gathering, so we had better get down there and see if we can snaffle a bargain or three. I love this market, finding it incredibly invigorating and fun.




We began at the local library, where they were selling books for only 1kr (about 20c) each. What a bargain price for some quality literature, so I was glad that I had the foresight to bring my shopping trolley with me. That pile of books would have been so heavy to lug around all morning. We then hit the main markets to buy things like my year's supply of cute socks, some jocks for Lars-Göran as well as to mooch around the second-hand bric-a-brac stall. I love browsing through these sorts of stalls, except when they are really packed as I don't have the elbows, nor the padding to fight my way in. I use Lars-Göran as a kind of human battering ram, which he enjoys. In the past we have scored some great books and kitchen goods but today the pickings were slim. We then headed over to my favourite licorice stall to buy several thick straps of this delicious treat. From this angle, looking back you can see the church on it's hill as well as a snapshot of the milling crowd around the stalls.




We saw several friends among the faces in the crowd and we could stop and chat here and there, while keeping an eye out for anything we wanted to buy. I saw a stall selling CDs and despite the fact it was playing some ghastly country and western style song, I dragged my reluctant Swede over. It was just as well that he came along as he found two CDs that he wanted to buy - both "Best of" compilations featuring the 1960s legends Procol Harum and The Byrds. I'm sure the kids will be horrified as they think we have incredibly sad taste in music and when they look at our CD collection, they sigh and complain that we have nothing there later than the 1970s. I point out that I have several Nick Cave albums, so they forgive me somewhat. Lars-Göran protests that he has some Sarah Brightman, Enya and Andrea Bocelli but that just causes the kids to shake their heads and look at him in pity. Perhaps we'll give them a paper bag to wear over their heads to hide their shame. LOL!




I also bought some fabulous smelling garlic salami from this produce stall. See how rugged up I am despite the sunshine? All in all, we declared it a successful market trip and headed home with our goodies. On the way, I tried to convince Lars-Göran that both Joe Cocker and Annie Lennox had done excellent cover versions of Procol Harum's classic hit Whiter Shade of Pale but he looked so skeptical that I longed to rush in the door and google it and prove him wrong. All thoughts of that little triumph flew out of my head when we were greeted by near disaster...

Our cheeky cockateils had decided to explore the kitchen while we were gone. This is a first for them and they must be feeling a heady joy at the freedom to fly around after nearly five months in a cage on the boat and decided to find out what lay beyond the living room. When I walked in I saw Sheila on the kitchen blind shrieking frantically and no sign of Bruce. I nearly fainted, turning very much a whiter shade of pale, as the window was slightly ajar and I feared he had been curious and squeezed himself out, where he would surely die in this chill.

But Lars-Göran heard a faint peeping noise from behind the built-in fridge and we realised that he had become trapped there. We had to carefully haul out the fridge and take him out. He was hot, frightened and dehydrated and we carried him carefully to his cage where he drank a little then sat on a perch quivering. It was such a shock to us as he is normally such a cheeky, confident, fearless little bird and very much the king of this castle.




It just killed me to see him looking so vulnerable and shaken. The worst part was that we were due to go out to stay overnight with friends in a couple of hours and I was so upset that I didn't want to leave. Fortunately, within an hour he was calmed down and began eating again and preening himself, so we closed the cage door to guard against any possible accidents and feeling much happier, we left for Tyresö, where we caught up again with Bosse and Ann.

We met this wonderful couple through a boat club we belong to and it was actually Ann who discovered us through this blog when she was investigating buying Fiona's sister boat, Tintomara II. We met at an autumn meeting two years ago and we all got on so famously there and remain great friends today. I really value good friendship and always look forward to seeing them. Both of them are warm, generous, friendly and open and we feel totally at ease chatting to them about every subject ubder the sun. I feel very blessed to know people like them and we all had a great time, enjoying excellent food, good wine and of course wonderful conversation punctuated with laughter.




They were kind enough to offer us a bed for the night, which was very welcome, especially as we did not finish talking until the early hours of the morning. On Sunday we awoke to a carpet of white - the first frost for the season. Didn't that come quickly? I think I had better shop for my winter boots soon. After a leisurely breakfast, we went down to their boat club where the boys went off to Tintomara II and discussed boring things like fibreglass and battery terminals while Ann and I sat outside of the new clubhouse, soaking up the sun and talking about life. We enjoyed a relaxed lunch with them and in the afternoon, we set off for home again feeling buoyed and refreshed.

At home, all was well with the birds and I am going to see if I can find a bead curtain that I can install to prevent them from getting into strife again. Hmm... I wonder what bead curtain is in Swedish?

The best bit of the homecoming, though was the chance to prove I was right. Was there ever any doubt? I could show Mr Skeptic videos of the versions of Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum, Joe Cocker and Annie Lennox. It was grand!

I wonder if I should test the strength of our marriage vows by daring to tell him about the Michael Bolton version? On second thoughts, I'd better not. I'm not sure anyone could survive that!

When you pass the Royal Palace in Stockholm, you will usually see the guards outside making sure that members of our royal family are protected. As in other European cities, they have the ceremony of the changing of the guard and we have seen it accidentally a couple of times while we were passing along the water by the old town. During the summer, the place swarms with tourists jostling for a view of the ceremony, as it comes complete with a military band, mounted guards, much flag waving and a funny kind of half running, half dancing sort of march. It is considerably quieter in autumn and less like a carnival, despite the funny mushroom hats.




What is it about royal guards and funny hats, I wonder? I come from a country that lacks this kind of history and pomp and ceremony of royal parading and although Australia is technically part of the British commonwealth, Australians safely ignore the royals in far away London. Only the readers of trashy women's magazines and my gran really take any notice of them at all. But these parade costumes always give me the irresistable urge to snigger. I was telling Lars-Göran that they were weird costumes in other countries as well and described the funny, furry hats worn by the grenadier guards and the minstrel outfits of the Beefeaters I saw in Britain. I also mentioned the funny dress, hat and pompom shoes worn by the Greek Evzones but he refused to believe me and I had to show him proof when we came home before he would accept the truth of what I was saying. I'm sure they are brave and crack shots and all that, but honestly, how can you not snigger when you see them, especially with the matching silly walk? Or maybe that is their secret weapon?

Back in Nynäshamn, we can forget all about that and instead indulge in one of autumn's greatest tastes, which is as easy as taking a stroll in the woods.




This rather startling example of the funghi family was found down by the seashore by the side of the road. It is a fabulous colour and texture and no doubt it is toxic, though don't quote me on that. I did, though get a chance to use that awful pun on Lars-Göran. I told him that it was very compact, not taking up much-room. For which he dutifully groaned and looked around for a stick to beat some sense into me.

We never really had a lot of mushrooms growing around where I lived in Australia. You can hardly count the three mushrooms that appeared on our back lawn every year, can you? We did have friends with a property in the Adelaide Hills and on dewy autumn mornings we would head off for a ramble in their paddocks and pick buckets and buckets of tasty field mushrooms. But they were "normal looking", rather than the alien sort of mushrooms I see over here. Sweden in autumn has the perfect climate for wild mushrooms and they grow in the woods, pastures and meadows by the bucketful, yet I continue to ignore this natural bounty as I am unsure about which ones are edible.




It would be a handy thing for me to learn as I adore mushrooms and they are so expensive to buy at the supermarket (and of course, not as tasty). My husband does not know a thing about mushrooms as he prefers coastal walks rather than rambles in the woods. However, our friend Lennart is very knowledgable about such things and I intend to ask his advice about recognising the edible species. About all I can recognise in the woods are the beautiful and delicious kantarelle (chantarelle), a rich yellow mushroom that grows in mossy pine and mixed forests near the lake shores and on islets.




I think I need a good identification book and someone patient to go out with me so I can learn. According to Lennart, it’s all about knowing both the right season and the habitat for each species and it requires good eyesight and stamina, as a you usually walk in the forest for several hours and cover a lot of ground. The Swedes are crazy about mushrooming and they take great pride in being able to identify their mushrooms, to distinguish the old from the new, the poisonous from the edible and knowing those closely guarded, special secret places that no other mushroomers know about. In fact, Swedes don't usually buy mushrooms, but prefer to pick their own. Clearly I'll need expert advice about this and I'll have to leave the dog home as she would never agree to ramble for hours.




We are very fortunate to live in a place that gives us easy access to the woods and the water. It is the best of both worlds and each time one takes the coast road and climbs up to the viewing point you are reminded of what a lovely place it really is. These rambles are one of the most relaxing activities I know. I especially like the feeling of being in the forest listening to the autumnal silence and the occasional bird chatter, all by myself. The combination of the forest sounds and the walking evoke a sort of meditative state when all of your worries go away (even if only for a short time) and your thoughts can flow freely. It keeps one sane.

Autumn is truly the time of change. The vivid green hues of summer have faded into the autumn auburn shades as the plant life in the great outdoors prepares for a long winter's sleep.




And the aftermath of that storm the other day? Fiona weathered it like the trooper she is, though I noted that in Stockholm along the water a few trees had not fared so well. Let's hope there are not too many more autumn storms left this year.

It's been "Do a good deed each day" kind of week and I am feeling particularly virtuous. I have reunited a young boy with his lost wallet and a young man with his lost phone. I feel like I ought to join the scouts.

The young boy lost his wallet at the boat club. What stuck me first about it was the brand name - the Aussie surfie company Billabong. Inside the very new wallet was a couple of 100kr notes, some coins and a library card. We guessed that it was probably a teenager's wallet because of the lack of any kind of ID or receipts or other paraphanelia that adults carry around and the "signature" on the back of the library card was simply his name printed neatly.

It was not a really common name, so Lars-Göran checked the local telephone directory and discovered two with that surname. The first one turned out to be granny and she assured us that her grandson would be delighted to be reunited with his wallet. When we later called the second number, granny had already told him his wallet had been found and when he dropped over to collect it, he was much younger than we had imagined. At our front door stood a tiny ten year old with a big grin on his face. He thought he'd never see the wallet again and to get it back with all the cash intact was a happy surprise for him. He thanked us very nicely and offered a reward that we refused, telling him that his saying thankyou was reward enough.

Afterwards we talked about it and hoped that he would feel better knowing that there were honest people in the world. I also hoped that he'd remember how good it felt when he got his property back, so he may be inclined to also hand in something that he found in the future. One can always hope.

The other young man had lost his brand new, very fancy mobile phone in the chemist. I had sat on a chair to wait for my queue number to come up when I felt something behind me and reached back and drew out the phone. It was one of those that had a camera and which could play games, display films, make coffee, balance your cheque account etc. It was fortunate that I had seen the young man get up to be served, so I was able to ask if he'd lost his phone. He said no and reached to his back pocket to show me, only to find it was empty. Another satisfied customer in the Marie's Lost and Found market.





As you can tell from the candles, we celebrated a special birthday this week. Yes, little Lambi became a teenager (in human years, anyway. In dog years she's an old bat). I wrote about her life last year and so I won't repeat it again. We celebrated it quietly with a special fika and slices of princess cake (what else for our little princess?). I'm sure she was puzzled as to why she was being freely offered goodies that she would normally have to beg for, but she ate heartily.

This gives me an opportunity to clear up once and for all the misconception among people (you may well blush, Justine) who persist in thinking that Lambi is named after toilet paper.




Yes, in Sweden we do have a brand of toilet and kitchen paper as well as tissues called Lambi. As an aside, it's funny how people ask if we named her after toilet paper and never if it was after the kitchen paper or the tissues. Anyway, at the time Lambi was acquired there was an advertising campaign on tv featuring the cute little lamb, who was called Lambi. As soon as the then 12 year old Madde saw our own little fluffball, that name sprung straight to mind (oh the powers of advertising!) and she has had it ever since. Believe me it is far preferable to her pedigree name which was something ridiculous. And most Swedes think that it is perfect for a tiny, wooly, fluffy white dog who looks so much like a lamb. It's only the expats who mention the toilet paper!

Okay, moving right along, I'd like to present the latest fashion head gear for autumn....




While I can well empathise with her and often feel like going through life with a paper bag over my head, hiding out from the world, I've never been brave enough to actually DO it. I can't think of a reason why she would choose to wear it. Maybe she was shy about being photographed at the ATM or perhaps she was thinking of robbing the bank. It gave me a giggle, anyway.




Down at the boat club, people are continuing to prepare their boats for winter and half of the boats are already on land. I was struck by the size difference between Ulf's yacht and the little Maxi that pulled up next to him at the wharf. It's funny to think that this Maxi 77 was considered a roomy, family sized boat when it was released in the 1970's. Today it is dwarfed by the family boats like Ulf's Wasa Atlantic. How times and expectations change.

This year we have decided to spend the winter in the club bay at Fagerviken rather than at our own pier, so we face a longer walk to check her but will have the advantage of others moored nearby who can also keep an eye on her. The walk down to the club bay takes us along the island of Trehörningen and I saw that they have started to build a new (and considerably uglier) bridge. I know that the narrow but quaint old arched stone bridge cannot cope so well with the volume of modern traffic, but did they have to let a blind man design it?




It is particularly jarring when you see the elegant homes that greet you as you cross over to the posh part of town. They are all beautiful, old homes dating from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and you would think that there was a way to marry the practical side of engineering with aesthetic considerations as well as a sensetivity to the history and location of the island. I can only hope that the finished product will look a lot better.

Just past the fugly bridge, autumn has come and the leaves here are turning golden and red, contrasting with the cream of this tudor style villa.




I am still surprised to see that the leaves are firmly attached to the trees as normally by now the night temperatures should have dropped below zero and the leaves ought to be piled on the ground in a wet, brown slippery mess. Today, while it is grey and drizzly the temperature is 10.7C which may not sound too warm, but it should be at least five to seven degrees cooler by rights. It certainly has been an unusual autumn. I would have loved these conditions last year when we were forced to live on the boat while our kitchen and bathroom were being renovated. I can't believe that was a whole year ago.

Along the esplanade, life is slowing down for the off season and we saw that even the small boats are covered up to hibernate and the birch trees are finally shedding their leaves like a shower of bronze confetti.




There is a storm forecast for tonight. We haven't had a real storm here since Gudrun swept through in early January 2005 carving a path of destruction throughout the country. While the authorities are not saying that this will have the hurricane force winds that we experienced back then, they will be very powerful none the less, so Lars-Göran has been down to ensure that the boat is well secured with extra ropes. I can't believe how dark it is becoming all of a sudden - this picture was taken at 4pm and it looks like the middle of the night. I guess that is what autumn is all about.

The title of this post comes from Anderson/Weill's September Song - a beautiful song with wonderful poetic lyrics and which ironically has nothing to do with the season. I just like that particular line and associate it with an idealised autumn.

This is my favorite time of year as I enjoy watching the leaves change colour and slowly, softly slip towards the ground. I love the way the sunshine has a softer, more golden hue and I love the smell of autumn air. It's mid-October and by now in Sweden we should be well into autumn weather, but it is still quite warm and dry. I'm sure when I mention autumn weather I'm conjuring up for many of you images of crisp air, golden sun, deep blue skies, leaves turning red etc. Unfortunately that's not an apt description of a Swedish autumn. Yes, we do get some days that gloriously conform to this dreamlike, perfect autumn picture. However much of autumn here is filled with mist, grey skies, dreary half light, chilly breezes and drizzly rain...the sort of rain that makes you want to scream at the skies "Either rain properly or quit it!".

But we are blessed with warmth and sunshine this year which is perfect as we make our way out to our favourite little bay for some respite from the demands of everyday life.




I still want to live on this island (Krokskär) and each time we pass, that longing gets stronger. People point out that it is very quiet and possibly quite isolated out here but I don't mind that as I find that I am quite content with my own company and what I look for in a home is an oasis that is quiet and beautiful where I can take refuge from the world's noise, storms and ugliness and sit back feeling peace and contentment. It may sound dull to other people but it doesn't to me.

When we pulled into the bay, we were surprised to see that the two buoys that we tie up to were missing. A quick scan of the beach line showed us that they were lying by the rocks.




This puzzled us. Was it sabotage or had they been moved deliberately? A call to the cruising club gave us the answer - they are taken up at the end of every season as the ice can damage them, which was something we didn't know. We will have to be content to lie by anchor from now till next spring as we are one of the few boats still out on the water.




Behind us, the trees on the shore are showing the first signs of golden autumn. The colours are not as intense this year and after reading that it is the cold that triggers the leaves to begin the autumn process of change I'm not so surprised. With such warmth around, it is a very slow, gradual process and I can't believe that the foilage is showing no signs of falling yet.

I had a good friend in Adelaide who was originally from Canada. One Christmas as we were enjoying drinks on her patio in the warm summer evening, I asked her if she missed the snow. She said that what she really missed was the brilliant coloured autums in her homeland. "But we have autumn here" I protested. The weather is cooler, it's a bit darker and it rains. Of course we don't have the range of deciduous trees that seem to be the norm in the northern hemisphere, but I still thought of it as a distinct season. It wasn't until I moved up here that I discovered a stunning, full blown display of colour and I realised that she was right - it wasn't the same thing and I know that it is something that I'd miss if I moved away.




In front of us we can look across the waters and see the silhouette of the lighthouse at Landsort in the distance and in the other direction is the open waters of the Baltic. You can see that one must think carefully about where to anchor. The wind is coming from the shore, so we have the protection of the island and the trees. If the wind was to turn and sweep in from the direction of the sea, it would become very uncomfortable in this bay, with waves making us feel as though we were inside a washing machine.




We stayed here for a couple of days and took a leisurely sail back on Sunday afternoon as we were only two and a half hours from Nynäshamn. It was a cloudy day when we set off but as it was a working day on Monday, we pressed on and the weather broke and we saw the first glimpse of sunshine for the day as Nynäshamn came into view. It's uncanny how this always happens as we approach home. We often joke that the sun always shines there and more often than not, we are right.

Anyway, we have wind and it's great to do real, fast sailing again. What fun! Except that I am feeling slightly "blah" and pre-menstral. Some times of the month it really sucks to be a woman. Have you ever tried to change a tampon when the boat is pounding along at 6.5 knots and heeling towards port at 25 degrees in a tight toilet space being tossed around against the walls? It ain't fun.....




But I digress. Apart from "the secret women's business" end of things, we have a wonderful sail. Yes it is blowing steadily, but we are very well dressed in warm clothes and off-shore wet weather gear, so it's fine. I went below for a while thinking that it may be better for Lambi, but the perverse dog prefers to be out in the weather! Though enclosed in her basket with a water and windproof jacket draped over it, it's not a real hardship if you think about it.




It was busy back at the club with people busy taking off their masts, packing away the sails and cleaning out the boats ready for them to be raised tomorrow. This boat is an elegant wooden archipelago cruiser dating from the early 1900s and still going strong. I only hope I'll be looking as good as she does at the same age.

Now where's that gin and tonic?

Life has been a whirling merry-go-round for the last couple of weeks, making us long for the quiet moments we shared on our boat, out at sea and far from the madding crowd. I'm sure that it is nothing out of the ordinary in everyday life, but the fact that we have been largely cut off from society for almost five months makes this dive into the deep end of dealing with people and commitments quite stressful.

We have arrived home to a frenzy of busy working days and trying to negotiate the delicate juggling needed to deal with others after these months of blissful and solitary freedom. It was both amusing and a little sad to return to the fray and see that not much has changed while we were away. There were very good feelings, especially when we were warmly welcomed home by dear friends and we could catch up with their news. But how sad to see the same old problems among some people. However, having been away for so long, we could look at them engaged in their petty little feuds and jealousies with new and far more detached eyes. I guess people will always be people and one must learn to deal with all kinds. At the moment, all we can do is continue on with those busy working days, bask in the warmth of family and good friends and take any opportunity that arises to take off with the boat and enjoy some breathing space and solitude.

We were also a little taken aback to see that boats are already being prepared to be raised on to land. It only feels like yesterday that we were here launching them! The summer has really sped by with uncanny speed. I still can't believe that people in Sweden do all of this work only to have their boats in the water for a few weeks a year. The weather, though cool is still fabulous and it seems a pity that more people are not out on the water to enjoy it all.




We decided to snatch a weekend away sailing, making sure to be back on Monday for the working week. Mondays are always the busy days for Lars-Göran, but it still gives us a couple of days to say hello to our own piece of archipelago. It also gave us a chance to test out Bruce and Sheila's new summer stuga (cottage). Every Swede longs to own a little red wooden cottage by the sea or in the woods. A stuga allows one an escape from work and the state's constant monitoring and just be at one with nature and your own thoughts, far removed from the world. We consider our boat to be the equivalent of the summer cottage, with the added bonus of its being mobile.

With Bruce and Sheila, one of the drawbacks in taking them to the boat is that we have to transport their cage as well. As we don't have a car, we have to use a trolley back and forth. They travel in style in my backpack, but I still have that damn cage to bring. As we usually have a billion other last minute things to bring, it usually involves more trips to and fro than we'd really like. So we bought them a cage just for the boat. And in keeping with the tradition of it being their summer home, it is of course red. And why isn't it wooden, I hear you ask? I think that Bruce and Sheila with their penchant for nibbling on anything close at hand would reduce a wooden cage to sawdust in a week.




We have pondered about where to go and decided that Landsort might be a good place to re-visit. We haven't stopped there for at least three years and I often wonder why as at one time it was our favourite haunt. We know that the guest harbour closed at the end of August, so we ought to be in peace there and the island has the added bonus of great walking tracks, beautiful vistas and a friendly, open feeling. I should say that Landsort is the name given to the tiny village on the island of Öja, though many people call the whole island Landsort. If you look at the map in the above link, you can see it is a long, thin piece of land, with the harbour for visitors at the northern end and the village itself several kilometres away at the south. I'm looking forward to seeing it again as we have always had good times there, right from that very first sighting I had of the island back in the summer of 2001, when we passed by on our journey from Stockholm to Nynäshamn to bring our boat down to her new home.




This was the first time that I'd sailed in the archipelago and I was entranced with everything I saw and was especially struck by this gorgeous community with it's tiny little dollhouse cottages. It reminded me of something magical from a fairy tale and over that and subsequent summers we spent a lot of time here and we think of the lighthouse as part of our home.

The sailing was wonderful, with Fiona moving through the water smmothly and at speed. Oh bliss! It was clear and sunny out on the water, but I could see on the mainland that it was clouding over. We could see a thunder cloud from a distance – very dark, threatening. Its shape resembled a funnel turned on its side and looked most peculiar. We saw lightning and rain at various places and hoped it would stay away from us. There was only a low rumble of thunder where we were and I watched the storm head northwards while we were going south. I still marvel at how different the conditions are on the mainland compared with the outer islands. It is as though we are in another parallel world.




We passed several bare, rocky islands that reminded us of some of the areas of the west coast. And not for the first time did we wonder what had possessed us to go there and look for landscape that was under our very noses. Lars-Göran commented that he'd quite forgotten just how beautiful it was around here and I had to remind him that we used to bring special friends out here for a day's sailing, often choosing the inner route through Draget's Canal and returning home via the outer side of the islands. And something that stood out for me was that come rain or shine, this was always a place that left us feeling happy.

We discovered that the harbour was indeed closed for the season, but that one of the transport ferries was moored there. We chose a spot just behind the ferry, thinking that if the wind and waves turned to the west, we would get some form of shelter from the bulk of the boat. The little wooden cottages around the harbour were deserted now and the silence was almost total, with only the gentle swish of the water on the rocks and the plaintive cry of a seabird to break the spell.




We unloaded our bikes and set off for the four kilometer ride to the village. The roadway winds its way through forests, pasture and rocks and is always a relaxing and interesting route to take. The surface is well maintained and firm, so it is not too difficult, even for someone as unfit as me. We made several stops as the hills became too steep for my tired old legs and anyway, Lambi decided that she didn't want to be chauffeured in the basket. She had a new lease of life since we've been home and now decided that she wanted to do her own puppy marathon using her four little legs. It was safer to walk when she wanted to run around as she has no road sense at all.

Along the way, there are several places where you could take a short detour and look at the view from high on a hill. Across the water to the north west, we saw our favourite little village of Krokskär, the nearest neighbours to Landsort.




The weather has been unseasonably warm, not that we are complaining. Usually by now we are breaking out into thermals, sturdy boots, hats, gloves and down-lined jackets, but this year, it feels more like spring than autumn. It isn't only us who thinks along those lines. I saw plenty of spring flowers blooming at the side of the road, which looked unusual alongside the obvious autumn signs of mushrooms and golden leaves. I thought to myself that if this was midsummer, I would have no trouble finding a selection of seven different wildflowers to make a wreath. It seems that the flowers have been tricked into blooming too soon and we even saw bumblebees busy pollinating them.




Another scenic point on the road to the village gave us a view to the south west, with the mainland in the distance, leading to the route towards Oxelösund. It is open and exposed around here, with the next land east of this point being Finland and while it looks serene and picturesque today in the gentle autumn light, when the wind blows (as it does frequently at this point) then the sea presents quite a different and far more sinister face.




By the roadside, we found more flowers, pointing to the confusion that mother nature has presented this season. It was like a spring shadow in the midst of brilliant blue skies, sun-golden leaves - with a slight autumn chill on the breeze. It is all so strange. Weather experts blame this unusually warm weather on warm wind blowing from South Western Europe, specifically from North Africa. While the tourists must be loving it, I wonder whether this is part of a more long term weather change. Typical, eh? Just when I move to a country that has snow, there is a threat of global warming!




And a little further along we found a lonely clump of daisies. I wonder how they will react to the first heavy frost, which surely must be just around the corner. These daisies were located near one of the historic sites on the islands - the Pest Cemetery. Well, that was what I thought when I saw the sign Pestkyrkogården. "So is that where they buried people like me who are a nuisance?" I asked Lars-Göran, who rolled his eyes and told me that pest meant plague (which I already knew) and when I read the information board near the site, they explained that a plague epidemic (possibly cholera) had hit even this isolated place in 1710 and over half the island's inhabitants had died.




After our leisurely ride/walk down through the woods, we came into the main village with its pretty little fishermen's cottages and their enviable location right on the water. This is a close knit place with around 40 people who permanently live here and many others who just come for the summer.




Over at the eastern harbour, the waves are rolling in steadily. There are two small harbours at this end of the island, used by the ferries, the pilot boats and locals. As it is so exposed, they have a harbour on each side and your mooring place is determined by the direction the wind is blowing. While the western side is quite calm, here on the east the water is rougher as it is facing the wind. It's a tight space at the best of times and I admire the boats who squeeze in past the rocks, which are very inconveniently placed right in the middle of the entrance.




From this point, we could look back towards the village, clustered around the base of the lighthouse. There are mostly small cottages and a few villas on the island. There are no apartment blocks and very little new housing is built which means that it can be unbelievably hard and very expensive to buy a house here. Most of them are passed down through the family and very few come on the local market. I know this because I always look.




In the above photo you will see a large white home on the left. They had a "For Sale" sign on it and we had a bit of a snoop around. You are quite isolated out here as you need to travel on a 30 minute boat trip, then a one hour bus trip to get to any place that has a shop or services like doctor, library etc. On the plus side, the location is stunning, so it was no wonder that when I checked out the asking price I saw that it was nearly 4,000,000 kr. Ouch!




Of course, you lie right in the pathway to the lighthouse, which was built by the Dutch merchant Johan van der Hagen 1658 and is the oldest Swedish lighthouse still in operation. The emphasis in Swedish is deliberate. There are two lighthouses on the south west coast (Kullen and Falsterbo) which are older than this, but at the time they were built, that section of the country was part of Denmark. A small, but it would seem very important distinction. As well as being Sweden’s best kept lighthouse, it is also the brightest one in the archipelago.




We decided to save a visit to the lighthouse for another day as we had seen those dark clouds massing over the horizon and thought we ought to make tracks back to the boat. On the western side of the islands we saw more of the spring flowers and we saw several beautiful little forest birds flitting here and there. They were too fast to be captured on camera but we spent quite some time enjoying several blue tits, great tits and robins playing around in the eaves of the homes. This island is considered a bird watcher's mecca and we saw several guys with their gigantic telephoto lenses and tripods tramping through the countryside to watch out for birds migrating south for the winter. There is also a bird station set up on the island just outside of town.




In the lee of the island, all is calm and still blue as the clouds have not reached this point yet. There are several little inlets with small piers constructed right on the rocks and small open boats moored by the homes. You are able to build so close to the water here as the Baltic has no tides to worry about and as the land mass is rising as well, there is no risk of flooding. The rocks a little further out provide a natural seawall, so you would be well protected in this spot.




And look, right by the water's edge, a couple of orange calendula with their distinctive large and dramatically beautiful flowers. This is a plant that I associate with the Mediterranean rather than the icy shores of the north and I can only hazard a guess that it is self sown from someone's potted plant as we saw several of them dotted around the main harbour. It was a welcome splash of colour.

To complete our little journey, we retired to the deck of the pub.




In summer, this is the centre of life in the island as it lies right next to the tiny shop and the landing point for the ferry. Today it was shuttered and lifeless, but I had very cleverly thought to bring our own afternoon coffee and cake that Lambi seems to be taking quite an interest in.

Very often the best time to come and discover the joys of a place like Landsort is during the quiet times, when the high season is over and life starts to return to normal for the locals. The sun's rays still cover the area in warmth. The leaves are beginning to fall from trees and the countryside has new and rich colours. I really enjoy the quiet season, when all hustle and bustle is gone. Taking a walk along the shore through a cold wind, wrapped up in woolies and scarves is an experience that lets you know you're alive. While is doesn't compare to a warm summer's day and there may be no need to pack a bikini, these brisk autumn walks on the beach take on a serene and romantic character of their own. Especially when I am lucky enough to have that special person to share it with me.