25th and 26th July Skargard and onwards

Once a morning dip had been had we prepared to leave and, indeed, left the most beautiful bay in the Skargard, according to our neighbours, and we pottered up to the North a few miles to the St Bonden group of islands where we weaved our way to a quiet anchorage in the North. We had bacon and eggs for breakfast and then swam to a rock for an hour of relaxation before weighing anchor again and headed off to the South, I was beginning to think it was about time we made some headway towards the canal. We’d identified Bjorkskars as our next place to stop and had a great sail down to the group, against the wind, obviously, and arrived in the middle of the afternoon to a multitude  of masts all along the place marked as good for mooring to. It was another beautiful day with 14 knots of Southerly wind.

On the way down Graham emptied the black water tank which now fills up quickly as I had got people trained to pump a lot to ensure all the solid matter is well clear of the overboard valve before the pumping is stopped. Into the black water tank this is less important as it only has to go less distance.  He reckoned it was about two turds full which seemed a lot for overnight so we may need to adjust the routine.

We nosed in to a likely looking place but with a metre to go before Graham reckoned he could get ashore we bumped aground, it looked as though it may be a little deeper a metre to the West and we tried there. It wasn’t.

We pottered along to the East and there was a gap with a fairly vertical face which looked likely as deep but possibly sub optimal for getting ashore. We nosed in and as we got closer an eyebolt set into the rock appeared which was good as we don’t have the climbing gear that the locals have for knocking anchors into rocks, two friendly swedes, one in a bikini, came to assist and encourage. We pulled out, dropped the anchor and went in again. The lady took our line from us and passed it through the eye to the windward side and we then noticed another anchor on the other side but it was difficult to get to without being roped up, the gent however was having none of that, put his telephone. in a convenient bush and went across the steep, slippery, smooth face and made it to the eyebolt, to a round of applause, and we had our next mooring all set up. The anchor seemed to be holding well and Graham and I went off the bow for a wander up the steep face and onto the ridge in the pine trees. There wasn’t much to see other than the tops of masts one way and more islands the other way and soon we were back having tea and beer on the boat.  Graham  and I rigged a line from midships on the windward side to the eyebolt to relieve pressure on the anchor and shortly after 42 ft Doofer, the modern dinghy looking one, came in with two girls and two chaps on it which Graham and Colin helped to moor. After some swimming the evening  morphed into a cauliflower curry  dinner after which Graham thought it might be fun to watch the sunset from the top of the rock where we were moored and the best way to get there with our tea would be a race. He had previously set up a rope from a bush to reduce the chances of falling down the rock on the first phase of the climb and Christine was first to go. She made it to the top having made the rookie error of colliding with  the starboard shroud on the way to the bow. Sue was next and displayed a cunning technique of balancing her cup on the nav light whilst climbing over the pulpit, this worked so well that she thought a similar trick whilst pulling herself up the rope might be good too but it ended with the cup tumbling down to the sea and only being rescued by Graham diving in to save it before it sank. Colin was next followed by myself and Graham with all being quite close in time but Graham incurring a penalty for spilling most of his tea thus Colin was proclaimed ‘King of the mountain’ and we sat watching the sunset from a spot a little lower down which had a better view. Other people joined us and as we had sung a couple of songs quietly, they thanked us for the concert although I’m not sure how genuine their pleasure had actually been.

Back on the boat we sang another song or two, apparently to teenagery like looks from the girls next door before bed.

The following morning was starting slowly and I thought we should be wending Southerly so I prepared for leaving having had my morning swim earlier whilst the others had theirs, once they were aboard we let go and pulled ourselves out into the  deeper water  with the anchor starting the engine on the way and  headed off upwind towards Sandham variously described as ‘The worst marina in the world’ and snooty poop island,  but which had a shop and other shore facilities like coffee and cinammon buns which some were keen to try. Indeed Christine had dressed up for the occasion, fishing out a handbag to complete the outfit. Arriving at the island it looked normal enough until the marina opened up to millions of masts at the marina and lots of boats standing by, presumably hoping to get in. We spotted a harbour employee in a rib and Graham chatted to her but it looked like there was no possibility of a berth other than on another island with a ferry to take us to the cinammon. This didn’t seem too appealing and with Christine’s lower lip quivering with disappointment we decided to give up on what we had now started to call Sodom and Gomora, and we motored off to the East. As we still had 100 miles to go to the canal and the wind wasn’t dead on the nose for a sail to the SSW we decided to press on to Landsort about 45 miles away. We had a good sail down, we motored one tack early on to ‘assist’ us through a channel but had a good day’s sail until about 1900 with only maybe 8 or ten tacks when the wind went on the nose and, as we needed to run the engine anyway (it had been mostly overcast) we motored the final couple of hours to the harbour,  having a good seafood risotto  on the way, thanks girls, arriving at 2100 or so. It was far smaller than I had imagined but on the dock a chap in yellow shorts, who I took to be the harbour master, encouraged us to tie up beside the Arcona that had arrived 5 minutes before us. This would involve a stern anchor and we pulled back out again to a spot to drop the anchor where upon the boys tried to drop it but having omitted to cast off the lashings on the flaked out anchor rope it was not successful and we drifted out of a good position into a bad one whilst it was sorted out. The anchor had been dropped but couldn’t pay out owing to the rope, it would have been better had I my knife on my belt as I almost always do but was still in swimmers from the morning so didn’t. Anyway, once sorted, we manoeuvred back into a good position and  dropped the anchor again going alongside the Arcona and bows onto the jetty. Once fully secure it appeared that this was not a place we should be as someone’s wife who had spoken to the harbour master had the information that only one more boat could go here before the next one needing to go to an old concrete jetty. Graham and I went to look at it but it wasn’t appealing and we thought we’d see if forgiveness might be forthcoming if we stayed where we were and pleaded ignorant, stupid foreigners as an excuse. It appears that a ferry comes bow to on the quay where we are but we’re hoping that she won’t come until someone else leaves at a place where we may be able to slot afterwards. having decided to stay put everyone apart from Colin and I had disappeared to what appeared to be a local pub with jollity coming from it, Colin and I went to join them but met them on the way back, apparently it was a house with people being jolly in it not a pub at all. We had a post sunset wine and went to bed hoping for the best in the morning.

Snooty poop marina.

No cinammon buns today!

Adding. mooring lines at steep rock Bjockskars