Veronica keeps criticizing my blogs and threatening to write one herself but never does, so watch this space. Ok, I just got a bollocking for saying that as I failed to mention that she does edit some of them and is rather good at that, grammar was never my forté.

Well Krokhölmviken was fantastic and from there we bumbled along to the top of Möja in the Northern Archi. We did not find our mojo there but there was a shop, a rustic fisherman’s key and a hand water pump. The mode of transport on these islands is either, a peculiar second-world war era 3-wheeler, half ancient motorbike back, connected to a flat loading platform on wheels at the front or, for the high flyers, a quad bike, camouflage coloured, towing a sexy 4 wheeler trailer with fat bouncy tyres. Scenes of these include a mom astride the half motorbike and two small kids sitting cross-legged on the platform, sans helmets or anything. I think Sweden has the best motor accident safety statistics in the world but I am wondering if statistics are collected from these places?

From Möja we sampled the outer northern Archipelago at Stora Nassa. It is probably a collection of two or three hundred islands and rocks, stark, beautiful and remote. There were a few red Swedish huts on the one of the larger rocks but according to Michael’s trawl of Google, the last permanent inhabitant left in 1935. Remarkably there was 3G coverage everywhere we went in the Archipelago. We went bow to against a steeply sloping rock in a north-south running submerged macro-scale glacial gouge. One of our crew members immediately turned the conversation to the difficulties associated with ablutions and dismounting the bow, while I was quite smug about how we had perfectly got the lines set, with stern anchor down to stepping off distance. The topic of ablutions is a much-discussed one but not really a topic for the blog. I will leave your imagination to contemplate the amusement it provides.

Note 141 on the paper chart said that some of the islands were designated bird breeding grounds and you are not allowed on them, it also said that the area was designated as a quite zone, no loud outboards or speeding. So we were rather irritated when, in shifts, a series of different kids kept coming around the corner in a loud noisy tender and driving manically around in circles behind our boat. When I took the kayak exploring there were 4 boats moored up around the corner with kids party balloons strung up. An all very sweet parents’ initiative but for those damned manic kid racers.

Our extraction the next morning was eventful, it was out of a shallow, narrow maze of channels, with the occasional mid-channel rock. I was to tend to the stern anchor, which I did and left, as has become our standard practice, it towing behind the boat to attempt to wash that grey sticky and messy stuff off. I went to the bow and was helping Sharon tidy the long lines we had used to tie to the trees at the top of our rock. I suddenly saw us veering and heading straight for a rock. I screamed at Veronica, who had her head buried down looking at the navigation screen. It is easy to get lost in the screen while the boat goes off course; I have done it myself but only where there is a lot of sea room. We avoided the rock and a heated exchange ensued with Veronica claiming she was in control and just turning back on to the dotted course line on the map, which I had said, follow with caution when the mapped is so zoomed in. I was ranting about what I had learned from a flying instructor, “Fly the plane first”. Anyway, we are still friends and we managed not to damage another rudder or worse. Our current crew of nervous sailors was spooked again, something I was keen to avoid, so I will have to put this down as a black mark in my, “good skippers instil confidence in their crew” book.

We went back to the bright lights and the glam of Sandhamn. We stayed 2 nights in the fantastic fully sheltered natural marina on the island opposite Sandhamn that we had stayed at before. The rather lovely waitress in hot pants, who served us at dinner on the first night, told us about the wild Friday night parties that happen at the hotel/yacht club. They only start at 11 and go on to the wee hours. We could not resist, the only problem was that the free hourly ferry across from our island ended at 10pm, we later found that it ran until midnight on Fridays and later as we left at 2am, it was to our surprise, just making a crossing, although, I suspect this was some clandestine arrangement for the KSSS staff.

I can report that the Swede’s can party. It was exactly as the girl in hot pants had described, dancing and drunken madness with a lot of beautiful people and some too drunk to be beautiful. The music and the people watching were excellent and a good time was had by all. Perhaps my favourite for the night was a chap standing at the men’s urinal, de-ballasting and clutching a rather proper silver champagne bucket under his free arm. The bucket was filled to overflowing with champagne, ice and beers. He stumbled out the door when he was done, precariously juggling the bucket clutching with doing up his fly.

We fell, some quite literally, into our dingy at just after 2am. We had to fight off a pleading drunkard who was trying to hitch a lift back to the island. I had made sure we had a full tank of fuel and we negotiated the main channel between the islands and narrow flooded glacial scour that led to the marina without incident. Every attempt was made to be quiet, as we approached the boats but we failed miserably.

We left late the next day and had a pleasant and uneventful sail to Härsö with the wind becoming very light in the late afternoon. We went into the harbour and contrary to what our pilot guide (of sorts) had said, found a members only boat club. Some old codger on a boat waved us across to the other side of the bay pointing to a rock he claimed we could tie to. We nudged the rock got the bowlines onto trees but the stern anchor did not set. We ended up going astern to keep the bowlines taught, while I put the dinghy down and rowed the anchor out and dropped it. Three attempts and all we got were an anchor, a dinghy and a stern platform full of mud and seaweed. The mud was gritty and I think the bottom was mostly barren rock. While all this was going on there were a bunch of members bobbing in and out of their companionways like meerkats. I had to wonder afterwards whether the old guy had sold us a puppy to provide some entertainment for the meerkats?

We then went across to a nearby island and found a brilliant sheltered anchorage under a cliff. The stern anchor held first time and later we were blessed with a full moon rising behind us. This sent me scurrying over the bow and up the lush lichen and moss to try to capture the photo opportunity, this was probably my most dangerous event of the day.

A pleasant morning as I write the blog, today we only have to go about 3NM up the channel to another KSSS marina at Saltsjöbaden, where we will stay the night and then find the boatyard that I have been corresponding with about the lift out. With a bit of luck the new rudder will have been delivered from Copenhagen and we will do the rudder replacement on Tuesday. The Odyssey continues!