It feels like it's been a month since leaving Ellös.
Andrew and I set sail north around noon, cruising at 8 knots with 17–20 knots of wind coming from the west. We aimed for Grebbestad, a town about halfway to Strömstad, where I'd need to get the export stamp for the boat. The route took us along the beautiful Swedish coast, threading past small rocky islands and through a canal with sections that felt a little too narrow for a boat I was still getting to know. Thirty-six nautical miles and seven hours later, we were tied up to a guest dock in Grebbestad — with a bit of a scramble in some strong winds — and ready for dinner. We ended up at a rowdy restaurant above a movie theatre. It was wonderful. The sleep was less so; the wind was loud and relentless all night.
The next day we sailed up to Strömstad, got the export stamp, picked up groceries, had a coffee, and continued north into Norway. We tied up at a marina in Skjærhalden, had the most expensive beers of our lives (thanks for that one, Andrew), and ate some pizza. That night was a much better sleep.
With the export sorted, we turned south. We swung back through Grebbestad to pick up Gyula, a friend Andrew had met while hiking in Afghanistan, who'd been invited along for a couple of days. He was a wonderful addition to the crew. He arrived with homemade culinary delights and, on day one, successfully broke in the ship's oven with a loaf of banana bread.
We had an adventurous afternoon sail in 22–27 knot winds gusting into the 30s, with a big swell running.
We found a mooring buoy at a place called Dannemark, which we thought would offer more protection than it did. Another rough sleep — though apparently Gyula slept like a baby.
The following morning was beautiful. We left around 10am, stopped in Smögen for lunch, then Lysekil for a sauna and an ocean dip, and were back in Ellös by 7:30pm with a list of things for the yard to fix.
I woke up the next morning to a knock on the hull at 8am; the folks at Hallberg-Rassy were ready to get to work. They adjusted the wind vane at the top of the mast, fixed a stanchion that had been missing a screw, tightened the alternator belts, replaced a leaky porthole, and patiently answered the questions that had stacked up over the last few days. I visited the parts shop, paid for the extras I'd ordered, grabbed a few more things, and we were back on the water by 1:30pm.
The sail to Marstrand was deeply relaxing: downwind, easy, sunny. "The Mecca of sailing," apparently. We tied up at 6pm, had a glass of wine, and went to find a sauna.
By morning, Gyula had already caught a bus back to Lund, and Andrew and I set sail for Lerkil.
The next few days were just good sailing. A few highlights:
The keel slid into the mud trying to enter a marina. We turned around quickly and got out of there.
We met the guys who work at a pizza restaurant in Lerkil; they loaded us up with cabbage pizza salad and mentioned we might be the first Canadian sailors to ever come through. High honour.
We got intercepted by the Swedish Coast Guard. They matched our course, pulled up about four meters behind us, asked a few questions, and said they might see us in the next port. They did: showed up in Varberg, gave me a breathalyzer (negative), checked our passports, had a few laughs, and handed us each a liquorice chocolate bar.
Andrew caught the train to Copenhagen on the morning of April 3rd. I am genuinely grateful for him being here for this first stretch. I don't think it would have been half as manageable, or nearly as fun.
The winds were strong that morning — around 25–27 knots — but I decided to make some headway. I put on my life jacket, clipped in my safety harness, and headed out into the North Sea alone for the first time. The swell was large and the point of sail made for a lot of rolling and twisting. I christened the deck by puking three times. I also had a few micro-cries, probably something to do with being alone for the first time in a while. I passed the hours adjusting the sails, FaceTiming with friends, and listening to music. Ten hours later, I was in Helsingør, Denmark. Solo docking went smoothly. I did laundry, ate some cheese, and was in bed by midnight.
The next morning was a quick three-hour sail into Copenhagen, carried along by 25 knots from the west on a beam reach the whole way. I hit a new top speed: 10 knots. I'm now tied up at a large pier called Ofelia Plads — probably a lively spot in better weather, but today it's blustery, and with Easter weekend starting, everyone seems to have sensibly retreated one block off the water. I rented a bike for the next three days to run errands, and spent the evening feeding a beefier electrical cable and an ethernet cable for the Starlink through the bowels of the boat.
Thanks for reading. My friend Eric joins me soon, and together we'll head through the Kiel Canal, a shortcut through northern Germany that spits you out near the Netherlands.