Monthly Archives: July 2016

After Moja we headed west to begin the bittersweet last leg of our journey. There are plenty of quiet little spots to enjoy before reaching the important island of Vaxholm, which marks the final entrance to the Stockholm area. Given our experiences on the east coast of Moja the night before, I was determined to find a deep, quiet, peaceful spot with no small harbor entrances, no swells and no ferries. I quickly decided on Loknasviken on the north east coast of Varmdo because on the map it looked like a deep, sheltered fjord cutting far into the island. No crosswinds or hairy 360 turns here, I thought.

Our pilot guide describes Loknasviken as a ‘deep bay sheltered from all but north-easterly winds’ but added that anchoring choices were either bows-to on the rocks or swinging from the hook. However, when we poked our nose into the bay we were happy to see another option. At the bay’s far end were a dozen masts and what looked like a jetty with stern mooring buoys. Clearly this was a new development since the Arholma-Landsort guide was published and very welcome it was too. After effortlessly docking we cracked open a bottle of wine and toasted a trouble-fee mooring for the night. The dock has no facilities and the gate to the neighboring property is locked and razor-wired, so don’t expect to do your business anywhere but on board. A large SKK flag flew proudly at the end of the dock (Svenska Kryssarklubben, or Swedish Cruising Association), which meant it was one of their properties, which was also good news for us, since I had taken a membership for both the boat and myself before I left California.

The dock has a handy swim ladder at one end – an invitation for a swim that did not need repeating. I dove in, cooled off, and surveyed a peaceful, bucolic scene around me. Time for a gin and tonic….

This bay seems something of a secret – nobody else pulled in after us – and it’s a great stop either on the way in or on the way out of the archipelago.

One of the bigger islands in the central archipelago is Moja. A place rich in history, but like most of the islands now almost completely dependent on sailing traffic for its commerce. It marked the northernmost point of my journey with Franz and based on the forecast winds from the north west, we opted for two small harbors on the east coast, either Kyrviken or Loka. I’d been forced to turn Arcturus around in tight quarters in a very compact channel opposite Sandhamn harbor the day before so I was feeling my oats a little bit and not daunted by their compact size, clearly visible on the Arholma-Landsort guide. However, with sailing there is very often a fly in the ointment and in this case there were two; the winds and current had shifted to easterly. Instead of rethinking my plan I pressed ahead, confident that the dogleg nature of both harbors would afford me some shelter. I was wrong.

As I entered Kyrviken I was left with very little time to both select a mooring and plan my approach to it because of the wind and swell. And did I mention there were no moorings left anyway? To my left, right and dead ahead were small sailing vessels, motor boats and a couple of working boats. I had perhaps one and half boat lengths between myself and obstructions on all sides. Amid rising stress I was able to turn the boat 360 degrees within the tight and challenging confines without damaging either myself or anyone else, and we headed out gratefully and turned left towards Loka. Turns out Kyrviken was just the appetizer for a smorgasbord of issues facing us down the road. Loka has a tiny harbor entrance – barely twice as wide as our beam, and the unwary will find fiberglass meeting with unyielding Swedish granite if they get it wrong. Here I made my second error. I saw there was one of the many inter-island ferries approaching and decided to duck in quickly rather than wait till the big bruising boat – and its swell – passed us by. We made the entrance okay, only to see there was just one available berth (of an alleged but doubtful 15), and that was right by the harbor entrance basically not sheltered in any sense of the word. A combination of finger piers and mooring buoys constrained my room for maneuver, and as with Kyrviken, wind and swell kept pushing me forward. There was really no time to idle the engine and consider the situation. I was already in a problematic situation.

At this point the ferry arrived and the swell doubled. On the plus side Swedish ferry pilots are like Formula One drivers in a pit stop. Full speed in. Full speed out. Absolutely no hanging about. So although dealing with the swell was nerve wracking, it was short-lived. But it certainly added to the stress level. The hardest part of his whole episode was accepting that I needed to give my boat plenty of throttle to complete my turns while battling wind and waves. It’s counter intuitive to do so because of all the potential collision points around you. Twice I lost my nerve when trying to turn the bow to the harbor entrance, and was both times blown back to where I started, just a few feet from other craft. I finally got the courage to do the right thing, and amid much urging from Franz, jammed the throttle forward and managed to get the boat around and facing the exit. Which I surged towards gratefully.

No more moorings on the east coast for us. Amid a rising wind and the promise of driving rain we motored to the northern tip of the island about a mile away to Langvik, a small fishing harbor with (allegedly) 6 moorings. We were not optimistic about finding a spot, but our luck turned. Immediately to the right of the harbor entrance is a small ‘allman brygga’  (guest dock) for half a dozen boats and there were a couple of empty spots. And best of all by now we were perfectly sheltered and docking was a breeze (or rather, a lack of one). Time to breathe, tidy up the boat and perhaps crack open a beer.

Langvik is a pleasant spot to stay overnight. And after the challenges of the previous hour, it felt like a godsend. The guest harbor has outhouses, water and electricity and makes for an interesting ten-minute walk from our dock. If you are feeling more ambitious, it will take you half an hour to make it down to Kyrviken, where you can rent bikes to tour the island. We enjoyed another quiet night in situ. I for one was very happy that the lessons I had learned cost me only a little stress. And no gelcoat scrapings. Or worse.

If you subscribe to any social media feed for sailing in and around the archipelago, it won’t be long before you see a post about Biskopson.

Or more specifically, the Koxviken anchorage on the island’s north coast. Strictly speaking Biskopson is a small group of islands on the periphery of the outer archipelago, about 5nm south of Namdo and 10nm east of Orno, but Koxviken is where you MUST go if you are in the neighborhood. It is a just-wide-enough, picture-perfect little bay with about two dozen bows-to mooring spots on the north and south side, with the granite rising quickly all around to about 70ft to provide the best possible shelter. The western end of the bay is shallow with plenty of reeds, but the water is still and warm on most summer days, and this makes for a great spot to spend a night unless there are strong north easterly winds. There are outhouses at both the northern entrance and the southern shore, but they were close to full during my visit so you won’t want to linger…!

We arrived about 2pm Saturday July 9th after a three-hour downwind sail from Dalaro. The bay was barely a quarter full at that time so we picked an empty spot on the north side and were immediately helped with our lines by another family who were already snugged in. After a quick dip in the waters – cool but not frigid – I toured the bay on foot as best I could – the island is a national park so there are no clear trails, but rather plenty of boulder-hopping and double-backing. We suffered a brief rain shower which was followed by the most spectacular rainbow and the water turned glassy. After dinner and a bottle of wine I launched the dinghy and rowed out to the mouth of the bay and for perhaps an hour savored the languid sunset over the western horizon. Just emptying my mind and focusing on the beauty of the scene before me reduced me to a zen-like state of utter calm. It’s fair to say I zoned out, and was only rocked gently back to the real world when the dinghy bumped softly against a small rock, forcing me to come back to reality and, with regret, row slowly back to the mothership. Needless to say, it was an utterly peaceful night in my bunk….

As you journey from the southern end of the archipelago northwest, the biggest islands you’ll find are Nattaro, Uto, Orno, Namdo and Runmaro. North East of Namdo where Ingaro meets Fagelbrolandet, there are several tucked-away little inlets and hidden bays which make a pleasant place to spent a night or two.

My endlessly helpful English acquaintance Rodger had recommended Malma Kvarn as a hidden little gasthamn offering almost complete shelter in all winds, which after Huvudskar seemed very appealing. The approach was easy enough, we put Arcturus on a broad reach heading NNE, darted between northern Orno and southern Namdo, and then headed a coule of miles north before turning east into the waterway dividing Ingaro to the left and Fågelbrolandet to the right. Malma Kvarn is up on the right hand corner, tucked away almost out of sight and promised a peaceful night’s rest. The only fly in the ointment was that I’d seen storm clouds approaching from the west for some time but kept sailing anyway – just a little too long before firing up the jenny for the last mile’s approach. By the time we reached the harbor the wind was blowing a hoolie which  made for some interesting conditions coming in and hooking to a stern mooring ball for the first time. These buoys are preferred to stern anchors in many harbors and take some getting used to. Unsurprisingly we missed the ball on our first try but were already committed to coming between two other boats. But fortunately we had plenty of fenders out and a helpful man on the dock who took our lines while another hopped in his dinghy, took our stern line and attached it to the buoy himself. As the wind whistled and howled we tightened our lines, got snugged in, and as so often happens in Swedish summers, thirty minutes later all was calm and sunny, allowing us to unwind with a beer at the dock restaurant and a plate of the chilled shrimp with aioli (called rakor in these parts). So many of these little harbor restaurants have been excellent, which is quite a pleasant surprise after some of the swill I’ve had in California harbors.

The harbor here takes perhaps twenty boats and is clean and well-maintained with toilet and showers. A five minute walk up a country road bursting with tall hedgerows and birdsong is the laundry building and two minutes beyond that, just around a winding road you’ll find the sauna, another huge bonus for us, since it is a wood burning model and there is always plenty of chopped wood, kindling and firestarters left for your use. Franz and I enjoyed our first truly rustic Swedish sauna here before cooling off with the adjacent cold shower, but on a subsequent visit  with my family instead of a cold shower we walked perhaps two hundred meters round the corner and found a gorgeous, tranquil and temperate lake, where we lazed for a delicious hour slowly cooling off. In addition to such enticements to visit, Malma Kvarn is run by friendly young Swedes, the best of whom was Julia, a Polish-Swedish girl, very well travelled who spoke excellent English, who not only served as hostess and waitress for the restaurant, but even offered a yoga and breakfast combo for 200kr at 8am the next day. This gasthmamn a terrific find and will cost you around $35/night.

Huvudskar. I was first told about this place by Bjorn Millang whom I met with his wife Ann at the Bistro Solsidan in Dalaro. He described the place – which is a group of half a dozen small, windswept islands at the eastern edge of the southern archipelago as a ‘magical place, very special indeed’. And that’s certainly the way it turned out for us – us being myself and my latest guest on the boat, Franz of the Sailing in the Mediterranean podcast. Franz is a veteran sailor, patient, kind and very knowledgable, and perhaps my biggest sailing influence given that I decided to buy a boat in Europe precisely because of my experience on Franz’s Bristol Channel Cutter in Turkey and Greece last year.

Franz arrived in Stockholm on Saturday July 2nd and after half a day provisioning and locating a reasonably priced sleeping bag at the local sporting goods store, XXL, we left Vasahamnen on Sunday afternoon. We followed the same route I had taken with Richard, turning to starboard down Skurusundet and then negotiating the back door of Baggenstaket before hoisting sails as we entered Baggensfjarden. After a long sail (20nm with plenty of tough beating upwind) we spent Sunday night in Kyrkviken on Orno, a place I had visited with Richard but decided to revisit because I loved it so much. Come Sunday and with light winds out of the north in the forecast we had planned an easy downwind sail to the neighboring island of Uto and to overnight in the Gruvbryggan gasthamn on the north east side of the island. But as we rounded the southern tip of Orno we decided to take a a quick detour to Dyviken at the north west tip of the island  because our pilot guide told us this was a very promising anchorage. We guide was right, it offers almost 360 degrees of shelter and there were plenty of boats already tucked away into one sweet spot or another. We then decided to use the calm of the bay to practice reefing. Since buying the boat from Andy I hadn’t needed to reef but figured now was as good a time as any to familiarize myself with the system. Thirty minutes later we headed out of the bay, with two reef points in, just for fun and found the conditions had changed dramatically. The wind had clocked round almost 180 degrees and we were greeted with 15-20 knot winds on our nose, forcing us to beat up and out of the harbor. It was uncomfortable and tough going. The only bright spot was at least we had two reefs in! Instead of another upwind slog we changed our destination for the night to Huvudsar, about 10nm due east and a comfortable beam reach.

As you sail due east the islands tend to become smaller and starker. There is less vegetation and far more granite as the rich forest of fir trees to the west gives way to hardy clusters of low-growing small bushes, lichen and mosses, clinging tenaciously to the rocks.

The heart of Huvudskar is a small and sheltered bay with a simple jetty and two SKK(Swedish Cruising Club) buoys we could have tied onto. There is also is a small area of bows-to rocks at the southern side where four or five Swedish boats were already clustered. After we had dropped the stern anchor they helped us pull in and showed us how to hammer in the bergskills – the pitons topped with rings to tie off to which are made specially for bows-to anchoring that I had bought on a whim in Sandhamn.

Franz and I then explored the island, and the word rugged, desolate and windswept really come to mind. There are perhaps 12 structures on the island – a mix of houses and huts in classic Swedish red, mostly uninhabited except for a few precious weeks in the short but glorious Swedish summer. The island’s water supply comes from a single well topped by a solitary green pump which is shared by whomever is staying on the island.

We met a group of three families from Stockholm – three wives with perhaps seven children between them, (no husbands), eating a simple alfresco meal of pasta with cheese sauce from plastic plates, who told us they come every year to ‘detox’ with no electricity, no internet and no running water. Just firewood stoves, oil lamps and each other’s company in a beautiful setting. We chatted with them for perhaps ten minutes and came away inspired by these wonderful people spending summer in a traditional way.

We slept well enough, but at 7am sharp (in every way) I experienced yet another rite of passage for the cruising sailor. I woke to the scary sound of my boat bumping on the bottom. The wind had shifted overnight,, the anchor had dragged and we were now being pushed onto the granite of the island. Bleary-eyed and not a little alarmed, Franz fired up the jenny while I pulled out the bergskills and we quickly reversed into the bay and headed west to our next port of call. As we headed out we saw two of our neighbors had moved onto the mooring buoys sometimes during the night. Experience clearly counts…

All things considered Huvudskar was well worth a visit, impressive and windswept and more than a little daunting. But if I visit again I’ll opt for the SKK buoy, if only to ensure a peaceful morning and a cup of coffee before getting underway.