The Baltic can get a little too shallow!

Having scrapped through the bridge at the southern tip of the big island of Funen we anchored off the pretty town of Vordingborg, one of Denmarks oldest and historic towns with remnants of a medieval castle.

The next day we woke to a wonderful easterly wind, we would have it behind us, time to do some miles. We lifted the anchor and headed west. Heading for the next large island of Funen we stopped on route at the tiny island of Vejro, once populated by a small farming community it now caters only for and handful of tourist and a few passing yachts, very laid back and a lovely place to walk around.

 On the way back we came across this rather super fellow.

The easterly winds held for the second half of the trip to Funen and we bagged our first fish, a funny looking fellow that we identified as a Gar fish.

Not bad eating, very mackerel like but one extraordinary feature was that his bones were electric greeny blue! This is said to be as a result of the biliverdin in the fish, ‘ a green bile pigment also responsible for the greenish colour sometimes seen in bruises’ – well, there you go!

The winds gave up on us after a few hours and we motored the final miles into Svenborg on the southern tip of Funen.

A new town on a new island; time for another bike ride with a rather striking discovery. We were riding up a long hill out of town when we were flashed at by this sign. We were doing 14 kmph and the sign seemed to think that we were going at a snails pace - well we only had little bikes!

The photos a little out of focus but you get the gist. Damned cheek.

Our destination was  Egeskov castle which turned out to be a wonderful 16^th century fairy tale castle that we decided must have been a gentlemans folly from the time. I liked it; if you are going to do, it do it properly, that is my kind of folly!

On the way home we passed this rather wonderful refurbished wind mill.

 

The following day we left Svenborg on a fine but blustery day heading for the small outer islands of Zeeland. Crossing something of an inland sea surrounded on all sides by islands none of which were higher than 100’ above sea level the water was shallow; the routes however are well marked by channel markers, the colour and shape of which tell you which side to pass to keep in the channel.

Even in June these waters are getting busy. After an hour or so we entered a particularly shallow and narrow channel. Coming the opposite way was one of many ferries running between the islands. Although in theory we had right of way over him because we were sailing I kept right to the edge of the channel to give him all the room I could, after all he was a lot bigger than me! He was quickly followed by another yacht to whome we gave way pushing us very close to the downwind side of the channel.

 If it got too shallow I  had a fallback plan in that I have a lifting kee. If it gets too tight, at the press of a button I can lift my keel and reduce my draft but I need it fully down to sail close to the wind properly. Whilst all this busyness was going on I was struggling to identify the next marker post. I could see it but I could not make out its colour and its shaped top was missing; I didn’t know which side to pass. Hedging my bets I decided to head straight for it for a last minute decision if which side to pass became clear or at least hugging it so close that I would get away with passing either side on the grounds that they wouldn’t cut the marking of the channel too fine.

 As I got close to the post it started to get really shallow. 3.2 metres, I draw 3.0 metres with the keel right down, it was time to lift the keel up a bit. I pressed the button – nothing. Oh dear. 3.1 metres. Press again – nothing - 3.0 metres. We were healing, that would make us draw a little less, 2.9 metres. Still no idea which side of the post to go. 2.8 metres. Bang, crunch, grind, oops, we had found the bottom of the Baltic and it didn’t sound like it was mud! Happily the keel can just kick up or it would be very dangerous hitting the bottom which would bring us to an instant stop. However, now we had a problem. 

Still nothing when I tried to lift the keel. The boat came to a stop pretty quickly. 2.7 metres now and  we were  being blown down wind and still further out of the channel. Let go of the sails, start the engine, grab the wheel and try and motor up wind. The bottom still had a firm hold. If we don’t sort this now I need to get the anchor out to stop us being blown into even shallower water, One more try on the keel lift button again, relief, it started to lift. Come on, come on, …. we were free. The engine powered us forward and we started to edge back towards the channel but the steering was desperately heavy, had I damaged the rudders somehow? The rudders draw less than a metre so they should be fine, why was the steering so heavy? Had we hit something with them? As the boat swung back into the channel I twigged, I still had the autotomatic steering  engaged, I was fighting the steering motor! Switch it off and all was fine. That was an eye opener, despite how familiar I was with my boat, with all the action that was going on I didn’t twig that the steering was being held by the auto helm. Oh well, you live and learn!  At that point I also realised that the reason for the keel not coming up was that sailing close to the wind puts tremendous sideways pressure on the keel and the lift motor was just not strong enough to overcome the sideways force. Another learning experience, I will remember that one in future. Sorry, no pics!

All's well that ends well and an hour later we were anchored in the shallows of the beautiful island of Aero.

Aero is a very picturesque island typifying the beauty and affluence of Denmark , apparently the wealthiest country in the EU measured as GNP per capita and it certainly shows. Everything is so tidy and perfect; even the poppies are special! Poppies dotted the fields everywhere adding to the picturesque atmosphere but this little fellow was rather different – like a four leafed clover, I don’t think you see many pink poppies! Definitely a good luck charm for the last week of the first half of the trip (but sadly it didn’t help with the weather in the days to come).

 Although the sun has lost its way the winds are now definitely in our favour. They have swung to the north-west giving us fair winds to continue south west and on to Germany. A brisk chilly wind whisked us across the last 20 miles of the Baltic at 7 knots on Tuesday to land us on the German coast at Kappeln, 15 miles north of Kiel, our final destination where we will leave the boat at the beginning of the Kiel canal whilst I go home for a couple of weeks.

Zealand and and a bridge too low?

We left Copenhagen on a fine Sunday morning, 

sunny but still chilly and heading south. The Baltic is very shallow reaching depths of only 100’ many miles from shore and we are often sailing in only 10 or 20 feet of water. The consequence of this is that even a medium wind of 10 or 15 mph can push up a nasty sea, not high but steep which is very unpleasant to sail into. After a few hours of pleasant sailing we got just such a sea and after an hour of very unpleasant lurching and pitching we beetled towards the nearest piece of coastline to find sheltered water and motored the final couple of hours to our destination on the east coast of Zealand. From there it was a short hop to the island of Mon (no relation to that fine island off the north coast of Wales). Finally summer has arrived in Denmark and we were treated to a fabulous evening watching the swans around us.

It is quite hard to get your head around being surrounded by ducks and swans which of course would not be there if the water was salty; the Baltic is after all a big lake that is pretty much fresh water. 

One look at this lady got us thinking about a giant pan full of scrambled egg but she was having none of it.

Most of Denmark is very flat with the highest point being only a few hundred feet above sea level – wonderful biking! Mon is about 30 miles long so we took a bus out to the far end of the island and cycled back. We started at some rather spectacular cliffs. I have never seen the Dover cliffs this close up, I wonder if they are this white?!

Beautiful green rolling scenery passed us by, everything immaculately kept. Thatched cottages, flower decked gardens and some fine old churches going back many hundreds of years. 

When we are out on our bikes I always have a weather eye out for a few pretty wild flowers. I take them back to the boat and put my kindergarten training to good use making pressed flower cards to send to my long suffering wife so she knows that I haven’t forgotten her!

One of the hazards of travelling is the language. In much of Europe you can make out at least a little of the meaning of what’s written on the food packets as the languages all have the same Latin basis. Not in Denmark! The Scandinavian languages are quite different from any other European language and even a rough guess is quite impossible. The result? Just when you are really hungry after a long days bike ride and the gastric juices are flowing from the smell of some very fine looking sausages ... one lick and my mouth exploded – chillied – aaarghhhh - overboard they went!
Identifying the milk we want when we get to a  new country is always a problem. You would not believe how many different types of milk there are out there! In our early days in Denmark we ended up with soured milk on our cereal; who would buy soured milk?!

When we take the bikes ashore we put them in the dinghy and motor ashore powered by a small 2 horsepower outboard given to me a few years ago by a friend. It has been a superb little engine, totally reliable requiring only one pull to start it even after being put into hibernation for the winter. This year was no different; it started first time. However, after a hundred yards or so it started to cough and splutter finally deciding that taking us ashore was not a priority for the day. Another pull and off she went…. for about 10 seconds, same result. Again, 5 seconds. There was a problem; the symptoms were very much fuel starvation but fixing it would have to wait, we had a bike ride to do so out came the paddles.

Back at the boat I laid the engine on its side and started to strip it down to try and find the blockage. Having got the side off I realised that there was no fuel leaking out of the air breather on the top of the tank – there should have been because I forgot to close it before laying the engine down…..   How it got closed I do not know but our problem was not a blockage, it was the inability of the tank to breath as fuel was being used up because I had never opened the breather valve in the first place. I felt suitably stupid!

The islands are joined together by many bridges, something of a hazard for a yacht with a tall mast. The chart gives the clearance under the bridge so I always know if we can get under or not. However, what about when the clearance given is 20 metres and the top of my mast is 19.5 metres? In theory you either fit or you don’t. At 20 metres I should fit but in fact water levels can change even in an area of no tides because of changes in the atmospheric pressure. There are a lot of expensive toys at the top of the mast so I wasn’t taking any chances. The solution is simple. Drop anchor near the bridge. Find a crewman who has no idea what he is in for, put him in a nappy with a couple of harness rings on it whilst telling him what a wonderful view he will get and hoic him to the top of your 60’ mast. Once at the top of said mast, lift the anchor and motor nonchalantly on towards the bridge asking him to shout if he hits his head on the bridge. 

 It was looking pretty close...

Yes, that big grey thing above his head is the bridge, and that's me 60' below.

Happily for Gord, he didn’t hit his head so the mast was fine; he even enjoyed the view! 

Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen

We arrived in Copenhagen on Thursday after a lovely sail north amongst the offshore wind generators and past the long graceful bridge crossing the mouth of the Baltic Sea between Sweden and Denmark (beating into the wind of course!)

We found a berth in Christianshaven, a canal right in the heart of the city amongst the old warehouses and wooden sailing barges.

What a wonderful city is. There is a feeling of freedom and joy amongst the people. They all smile, have a spring in their step and manage to look elegant even when riding their bikes which pretty much take over the place! The roads are wide with cycle lanes everywhere. The Danes seem to have a very relaxed laissez fair attitude to life, very much in contrast to their Scandenavian cousins in Norway and Sweden where they most certainly would not cross the road if the red man was showing at the crossing. Here no one wears bike helmets, many smoke and they break what few rules there are with gay abandon!

Friday was a public holiday and party day, an annual holiday to celebrate the signing of the Danish constitution in 1849. We were out doing our tourist thing when we came across three youngsters attaching a bra to a rather fine looking statue. We asked them what they were up to and they explained that this year is the centenary of votes for women in Denmark. The sticking of bras to as many statues as possible before they got caught by the police was a protest that women still do not have equal right in Denmark! 

There was to be a rally which we stumbled across later that morning in part celebrating the centenary and part protest at female inequality. The march was huge. It was lead by very elegant young women dressed in suffragette clothing and flying Victorian style banners, they were still passing 15 minutes after they first passed us – a popular movement!

It is a beautiful city; many old buildings that survived the war (at least the last two, we Brits gave Copenhagen a real pounding in 1807 when we thought that they were getting a little too friendly with our old foe the Frenchies. Having pounded the city for 4 days we then ran off with the entire remains of the Danish fleet, 170 gunboats. Happily the Danes seeem to have forgotten that little incident!) Denmark was neutral in the first war, they tried again in the second but were soon occupied by the Germans but there was no damage done to their cities.

One of the most famous landmarks in Copenhagen is the little mermaid. Now here  is a magnificent piece of pr if ever I saw one! How does a small, rather insignificant statue given to the city by someone of no great importance and stuck on a rock on the water edge become the face of Copenhagen and the citys famouse monument? Who ever did that piece of pr I want to give them a job! 

The little statue was inspired by the mermaid who falls in love with a prince she rescues from a ship wreck  in the story by Hand Christian Anderson and was a gift to the city by the head of the Carlsberg brewery in 1913.

Copenhagen is known as little Amsterdam for its small canal system, the most famous of which is Nyhaven, home in years gone by to the whore houses and taverns serving the eclectic mix of seaman at this hub of sea trade routes around northern Europe. Today the old entertainment establishments are replaced with cafes and restaurants but old wooden sailing barges still line the canal, mostly now used a live aboards. 

On a sunny party weekend the cafes are full and the quay lined with buskers and a wonderful mix of people.

We came across one ambitious fellow building his own barge. Not only was he building it single handed from scratch but he even felled the trees himself! He has been at it 3 years so far with the hull complete and the decks under way, his hard wood planks lie on the dock along side him and he confidently tells me that he will have it sailing this summer – I love an optimist!

And then there is ‘The free state of Christiana’. If ever you needed proof of the laissez fair attitude of the Danes , this is it. In 1971 a group of squatters took over some deserted barracks in the eastern part of the city and established a commune. The local authorities initially tried to force the squatters to leave but, as the communities numbers swelled, the government decided to treat Christiania as a social experiment. Today the commune has 900 residents (it seemed either long grey haired hippies or younger Rastafarians and various coloured origins).

The commune has its own schools, infrastructure and system of government which are financed in part by cafes and the sale of handicrafts and yes, sale of the evil weed grown on the site! When I asked a lady selling Cannabis if it was legal in Denmark she explained that the police outside the commune regarded it as illegal but there was certainly no suggestion of illegality inside the commune. Sitting listening to the bands playing you could certainly get pretty high just from passive smoking from the many joints being smoked around you! As long as the commune are sensible about it the police seem to turn a blind eye. Upon leaving the commune there is a sign saying ‘you are now entering the EU’ – what a place!

Beautiful cities are always nice to see but what really makes travelling so special for me are the people you meet; the youngsters sticking bras on statues and the men building their canal barges from scratch – wonderful!

Mikes wife Sue and daughter Laura arrived in Copenhagen on Friday and joined us for a day of sightseeing. Gordon arrived on Saturday from Canada and joins me on the boat for the next leg of our journey.

Great night bad day

On Friday we left Poland heading for the Danish island of Bornholm, 50 miles south of Sweden.
Even leaving Poland had its issues! There is an exclusion zone extending 12 miles off shore starting at the mouth of the river where we last stayed, it is a firing range used I reckon perhaps once a month for a few hours but in what I expect is a last hang over from the communist days it is closed to all traffic 24 hours a day for 5 days a week - rules for rules sake! Our planned course was right across the middle of the exclusion, avoiding it meaning an extra 12 miles added to our 70 mile trip.
Now there is only one thing to do with stupid rules and it doesn't start with 'obey' but having already had one run in with officialdom we pondered upon the consequences of a second! Would they see us on their radar? Would they be bothered to come after us? How fast could they get their boat out to arrest us? Being at least half law abiding citizens (under duress) we plumped for 6 miles off shore before we cut across and off we went.

Just at our turning point we came across a very strange looking sailing boat, it seemed to have a very odd mast and sail shape. As we got close it became apparent that he had lost half of his mast and had made a very effective jury rig to sail him home - wherever he had been it must have been windy!

It was just at this point that we headed into the exclusion zone and crossed our fingers but an hour later we were free from Polish waters without causing an international incident.


We had a terrific crossing in a spanking force 5 wind behind us. It was a lovely night with the moon shimmering on the water and a lot of shipping to keep us alert. We take turns on watch, 3 hours on, 3 hours off. The last few hours were along the west coast of Bornholm arriving in Ronne, the capital of the island at 5am for a cup of tea and a welcome bed.
Saturday was a slow start after catching up some sleep, it was not a good day. We spend most of the day doing, or should I say trying to do jobs. To cut a long story short the catalogue read thus:-
-trip to the shops to buy data sim card for internet - failed after 4 attempts, it seems they don't do them here
-trip up the mast to fix anchor light, no fault found but it still doesn't work
-rewire faulty wifi aerial cable  - failed - new cable too short
-deliberately flattened all batteries to give them a good recharge from the marina mains - upon switching on the charger we tripped the mains
-the water tanks needed filling but our hose was too short, a kindly neighbour helped out with that one
- whilst filling the water tanks water poured into the boat from an unplugged pipe
and the coup de grace,  putting a tin of paint away I dropped it on the floor, the lid came off and spilt white paint all over my beautiful inlaid wooden floor - sorry, no pics, I was a bit distraught! Happily a bottle of turps and a lot of elbow grease removed almost all signs.
It was not the day to buy a lottery ticket!


We are just back from a bike ride today round this lovely island. Rolling countryside with wheat and rape fields, pretty Scandinavian
houses and a beautiful coastline.




                       

Another day another job; I had Mike hang off the boom to estimate how much ballast I would need to correct a list in the boat! (Note how nice and level she is now)



















And a repair needed doing on the mainsail (what a crew!!!)

Beware witches and stroppy harbour officials!

The prevailing winds here are still south westerly and we are now heading, yes, south westerly! Our next leg was a rather uncomfortable motor sail 25 miles west to the small harbour town of Leba. It was time to explore inland Poland.

Once again we mounted our trusty steeds to head south. Having been locked away for the winter with only damp sea air to sustain them they were at first a trifle unwilling after their first outing without protest. They squeaked and groaned sufficiently over the first mile to persuade us to turn back for a little maintenance. One new pedal and a lot of oil later we sat out once again.

The land is flat and heavily forested with perhaps a quarter of it farmed by small holdings. Much as expected we passed many drab concrete houses or apartment blocks and unsmiling old leathery faces but also some old brick farms and small pretty houses.

A couple of hours riding took us to the main road to the town of Lebork where we came across a somewhat surprising sight. Parked by a fuel station at the junction was what appeared to be an old Soviet fighter jet and an old bi-plane that we guessed was from the second world war! Some enthusiast souvenir I suppose.

We stopped in Lebork for a well deserved lunch in a nice town square; gone was the drabness of 1950’s concrete, it could have been a town centre anywhere in Western Europe. We downed a two course lunch, a beer and a coffee all for the princely sum of £6! In the café a Polish lady came over to say hello surprised to see two Englishmen in this part of Poland. She now lives in Canada and had come home to visit her family. In the early ’80’s she fled to Canada to escape communism. She and her new husband in their early twenties told everyone they were going to Canada on a holiday (had the authorities found out they did not plan to return they would not have been allowed to leave). When they got to Canada they applied for citizenship and did not return until the fall of communism; not even their poor mothers knew that they did not plan to return! She gave us a little more insight into the legacy of communism. An old school chum of hers who did not get away became a ship designer with a Masters degree; he is now living on a state pension of just £7000 per annum; what must the pensions for a mere labourer be??

On our way back we passed through the most delightful village. Attractive new houses with beautifully kept gardens, the new blossoming Poland and one of the more surprising road signs that I have seen on our travels – beware of witches!

The reason became apparent a little further on…

The following day we had a 4 hour run down the cost to the small town of Ustka where we were greeted on the dockside by a very stroppy official, a man from the harbour authorities and a policeman – all we wanted was an ice cream! It seems we had broken the rules. The coast here is a national park  and for reasons that are beyond me we were supposed to keep a minimum of 2 miles off shore which we did not. After demands for an explanation ( I seemed to get away with ‘I didn’t know) which had to be given in writing, copious note taking and an examination we were allowed to go on our merry way. Oh well, I suppose they have nothing better to do!

The wind is not playing ball for the next few days with constant south westerlies so we have decided to head north west tomorrow to the Danish island of Bornholm 60 miles away.

Poland bound

I arrived at the boat on the east coast of Sweden on Tuesday evening 19 May to find her in the water with her bottom painted and mast up as planned. A couple of days work had the rigging sorted, engine serviced  and ready for off when Mike arrived on Thursday. We set off  on Friday heading for Poland, 200 miles south east, with an overnight stop the first night on the northern tip of a Swedish island called Oland. We raised the anchor on Saturday morning for an overnight passage of around 36 hours; the sailing was to be close to the wind all the way but in a pleasant force 3.

We made land fall 30 miles north of Gdansk, the polish city where the anti communist revolution started in the dockyards in 1970. We set out on the bikes to stretch our legs. Our first stop was in the village to get some money. Although now in the European Union they still use their own currency, the Zlotych (pronounced Zloty) but without any idea of the exchange rate we had no idea how much to get out of the cash machine. Mike plumbed for the middle amount offered to him by the machine, 100 Zlotychs,and, having seen an ice cream for sale for 3 Zlotych we figured that it must be about 1-2 Zt to the pound. 

We set off cycling down a long peninsular separating the Baltic from the large bay of Gdansk where we stopped for a well earned cup of tea and a waffle, the quality of which would have made the Brighton sea front cafes  look very superior; it seemed a little pricey at 18 Zt, we figured around £10. Getting back to the boat we were accosted by the harbour master for the harbour fees, 70 Zt for the night – about £50 by our calculations – who said Poland was cheap?! It was time to check the exchange rate. Good old Google gave us the very happy answer, a Zlotych was worth just 15p. We had taken £18 out of the cash machine, the tea and waffles had cost £3 and the harbour fees were £12 per night; we felt a little stupid but happy with the result!

On Monday we took a train for the 30 mile trip to Gdansk.

Poland is a nation emerging from the ravages of communism, that grand but failed experiment. A taxi driver told us of queues in the shops for even the basics such as food and clothing when he was a boy and unemployment of 20%. Poland is recovering but, in very sharp contrast to the Sweden that we had just left, it is not a wealthy country. The majority of houses are drab and the surroundings tatty but some new smart houses and office buildings are starting to emerge. With minimum wage about half of that in the UK it is easy to see why so many Poles have come to England; two young Poles that we met told us that in their town of 150,000 inhabitants, 40,000 left to go abroad when Poland joined the EU in 2003. It is difficult to imagine how the county could sustain such a loss but we were assured that it was the worst of the Poles that left and arrived in England!

We were guided on a walking tour of the city by a 72 year old resident of Gdansk. Although he told us a little of his wartime experience as a boy he would not be drawn on political issue such as their feelings for the Russians or the Germans but they were pretty clear! Although there is much bad feeling in the older generation, the youngsters of  today regard it as history to be put behind us. Whilst difficult to swallow I am sure they are right. 

Gdansk has been rebuilt over the last 50 years copying as much of the original as they could. There are many examples of pain staking repairs of the smallest of original stonework and statues put back together as best they could as near to the original as possible.

The second world war started in Gdansk. On the 1^st September 1939 a German warship, supposedly on an official visit, fired the opening salvo at a small Polish garrison. German troops invaded from the west and the rest is history. 6 million Poles were exterminated, half of which were Jews. In August of 1945, with the Russians on the doorstep of Gdansk, the occupying German troops, a battalion of SS soldiers, were told to hold Gdansk to the last. For 3 weeks the Russians pounded the city with artillery destroying 80% of the buildings and hundreds of years of history.

These photos are shot from the same spot showing the total devastation of 1945 and the rebuilt river side today.

Gdansk was home to the Teutonic Knights in the 1300’s who rode out to free Palestine from the invading Turks. There’s some irony there!

25 years after the end of the war the ship builders in Gdansk stood up to Russian tyranny forming the Solidarity Union. They went on strike outside the docks in 1970, a rebellion quickly put down with lethal force in which 40 dockers died. Today there is a memorial to those men in Solidarity Square; their moving memorial  stone  (bottom right of the photo) reads “A token of everlasting remembrance of the slaughter victims. A warning to rulers that no social conflict in our country can be resolved by force, a sign of hope for fellow citizens that evil will not prevail.” Heavy stuff.

10 years later Lech Walesa lead a peaceful revolution when the Russians gave in to the dockers demands in 1980. This victory lead to elections in 1989 decisively won by the Solidarity candidate and is largely credited as being the catalyst for the collapse of communism. The Berlin wall fell soon after in the same year; Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia followed Poland’s lead declaring independence in 1990/91 and the USSR was dissolved in 1991.

From Gdansk we head west along the Polish coast. We have a couple of options depending on the weather; west to Germany then up to Copenhagen or north back up to the southern tip of Sweden. We will see where the wind takes us.

Gas, used on the boat for cooking, continues to be the bane of our lives. Every country in Europe has a different cylinder fitting which means a different cylinder as well as a new regulator despite many assurances to the contrary. The only thing we could find here was a huge cylinder two and a half times the size of the standard Calor bottle. Getting it back to the boat was a challenge but we were up for it!

The last leg to Stockholm

We have done a lot of biking to explore the inland area. Sweden is a mass of lakes and pine trees, pretty much what you’d expect really, it does what it says on the tin.

Keep a good look out, you never know who may be watching you in the forest!

There are no zebra crossings on the canals but rabbits, well that’s a different story.

Once out of the Gota Canal we were into the Baltic proper. The temperature is dropping rapidly; we are after all on a latitude level with the Orkneys and in a few months the locals will be skating where we are sailing! We did have to wrap up when the wind blew.

Sweden is known for its many archipelagos, the most well know being off Stockholm but the island are spread all along the coast; beautiful cruising grounds.

As we got close to Stockholm real estate become more and more of a premium. There are some homes in pretty extraordinary places on the islands and get a load of the slide on the left, you could have some real fun on that!

Stockholm is a beautiful city with a lovely water front.

Melanie is flying home from Stockholm. I am now taking the boat 150 miles south to put it to bed for the winter; the storage price halves once away from the big city. I had beautiful blue skys and there cold air produced some beautiful early mornings.

That’s it for this year. The boat is sheeted over for the winter as there will be 2 meters of snow around by Christmas; I just hope I have got all the water out of the pipes or the –25 temperatures will lead to a messy start next year!