Skipper: Peter Baxter (65) Crew: John Older (66)

This trip was to be my 65th birthday treat and planning started in January. We would drive to Stockholm towing Jenny, my 40 year old wooden Lugger, launch her and explore two archipelagos. I wrote to Nils Ruberg, the only DCA member in Sweden, for advice. Nils lives in Stockholm and as a sailor and canoeist was very familiar with our proposed cruising area. He rapidly became the key figure in planning the expedition. “Shelter? All you need is a lee and a tree!” he said. We should sleep under the boom tent or camp, and must pack a mosquito net. Our most vital equipment turned out to be a mobile phone, a GPS, sunglasses and ‘Tilley’ hats!

Thursday, 9th August — Launch Day. After saying goodbye to my wife Bobbin and Nils Ruberg at Stockholm Central station, I went back alone to Svinninge Marina to launch and rig Jenny. I settled down to sleep, but was awakened at 22.30 by our hosts of the previous night who wanted to see the boat! Swedish bow-to mooring made this hazardous with the tent up and they had to climb over the neighbouring boat to see inside. “Such a small freeboard — ridiculous for the Baltic!” was their opinion!

Friday, 10th August. John arrived on time at 1300, having travelled by air, train and bus and finally walked to the marina. The boat was ready and the GPS route prepared, so we were able to set off through the islands at 1400. The wind was a gusty south-westerly. The large numbers of high speed launches, large ferries and also gigantic, liner-type car ferries going to Finland were a surprise. The sheer number and variety of islands and the summer houses all along their shores, each with a dock and motor boat, were also unexpected and we immediately changed our camping plans.

Our GPS route frequently took us towards a wall of trees and rocks, which made us whip out the binoculars and compass. The first time it happened, the yacht in front of us did a quick gybe and disappeared at right angles to our course. Gybing too, we followed through a narrow pass about 50 yards wide only to see him gybe again and disappear to starboard. In hot pursuit, we suddenly lost all wind around the corner of an island and had to row 100 yards to the next open stretch of water before we found wind again.

We had to learn our buoys and marks quickly. Cardinal buoys are medicine-ball size with a stick on top, painted black and yellow at the bottom, indicating a north cardinal mark. Port and starboard marks are a similar height, but made of thicker green or red plastic tube, with a clever light concealed in the top. As we were in tideless waters, we had to check which side to pass whenever there was only a single buoy.

However, it was sunny and the wind steady at force 3-4, gusting around headlands and in narrow passes. With few long fetches the sea state was small and very acceptable. Stopping at 1730, we moored Jenny stern-to in a rocky cove and camped in reindeer moss and cloudberries under pine trees. (12 miles)

11th August — Out into the Skerries. Getting a weather forecast was extremely difficult. Wind speeds were in metres per second and radio broadcasts in Swedish! I took a barometer and asked for advice locally where I could, but the most reliable source was Bobbin in England. Each morning my mobile phone would bleep with a text forecast from her and she did this faithfully every day for a month.

We sailed eastwards through a maze of islands whose character slowly changed, reducing in height, becoming more rocky and further apart.

I think of Stockholm geographically as situated on the waist of an hour glass lying on its side. To the west the huge lake Malaren and to the east the Archipelago. We were still sailing due east, but curving north towards the end of the day. The scenery had completely changed — now there were vast areas of open sea and low, smooth-rocked islands with few, if any, trees and nothing to stop the freshening wind.

Eventually we found a large island — Svartloga — and north of it a small island, with a landing place and rocks flat enough to pitch a tent. The barometer was falling and thunderstorms were visible all round the western horizon. The evening was strangely overcast and lit with crimson and pink in the north. It was windy, the tent was only a half‑shell fisherman’s shelter and John still had toothache. It rained in the night, causing us to bless our bivvy bags, which pulled on to our sleeping bags like socks. The mosquito nets protected us too, but we decided to use Deet and sleep in the boat in future! (17 miles)

12th August — Toward Arholma, today we lost an oar. Oilies on, we set off northwards with a south westerly wind, F4 gusting 5 and getting stronger. Pilotage was tricky. Reefs were shown up by breaking waves. Visibility was reducing and it started raining about midday and got steadily heavier. We flew past Kappelskar, the big ferry stop for Finland (the northeast tip of the hour glass). Several big sea-going ferries were encountered and avoided. We went up the main channel at about 5 knots and then turned north. The wind was very strong and three miles from our destination we lost an oar! Sails down, we motored and searched for half an hour in those stormy seas, finally giving up and making sail again to find our way through a maze of islands to Arholma where we planned to shelter in the Osterhamn, or eastern haven.

Suddenly we were in a calm pool, sheltered from the wind and with a yacht facility. Around a giant rock was fixed a wooden platform, like a skirt, to which some eighteen yachts were moored bow-to, kedge anchor over the stern. We were very wet and relieved to be safe. Reports received later indicated that the wind had been 40 kn at times and we had judiciously used the shelter of the islands to complete our journey.

John set off up the narrow path to see what was available locally and found a youth hostel. We secured the boat and checked in. This island is apparently a well-known tourist destination, but with no cars — just cycles and footpaths. The whole island seemed to be in an ethnic time warp. (17.5 miles)

13th August — Toward Mariehamn — Alanda — Finland. John had had a bad night again, so we decided he should return to Stockholm by the tiny local ferry and bus to get his tooth fixed. I would carry on and meet him in Mariehamn on the other side of the Baltic the following day.

I left Osthamn (east harbour) Arholma bound for Osthamn Alanda single-handed under full sail. It took me an hour to cover just two nautical miles. At that speed the crossing would take 22 hours according to the GPS! A change of plan was indicated. Engine on at 1130, compass at 57°M and off I went. Heavy swell from the SE made steering difficult and my track plotted on the chart was an elegant curve. I arrived off the Finnish skerries with a new set of buoys and marks to learn, a new chart and a different base on the GPS. Threading through islands again and then under a small bridge, I came out into a sunny stretch of water bordered by red granite cliffs and some suburban homes. Turning north, I arrived in Mariehamn’s eastern marina at 1900. A lovely place, charming people, super facilities and a great restaurant! 60°N at last! (35.2 miles)

14th August. Waiting for John to return from Stockholm, I went to get compressed air refills for both life jackets (which had gone off in the very heavy rain) and reviewed the weather plan.

In planning the trip, I had noticed that highs seemed to dwell in the Baltic and it was possible, using them and the prevailing southwesterlies and westerlies, to cover the area, provided one had time to wait for those highs. The first part of the plan had worked quite well — three days of southwesterlies pushing us along east and north and a high to cross the Baltic. The next stage was to cover as much of the Finnish archipelago as possible, whilst being ready to take advantage of the next high to cross back. The emergency plan if there was no high would be to narrow reach, using a southwesterly diagonally from the south Finnish archipelago to Grisselhamn and from there down a long fjord and canal back into the archipelago.

The two nautical museums on the island were wonderful. In the western harbour, Pommern, the last of the ‘grain race’ square riggers was huge and awe-inspiring. The local boat museum in the eastern harbour had produced a video on local boats from all around Scandinavia and the Baltic, which I must follow up!

John returned, pain free, from the dentist after midnight. His toothache had been a large abscess. We slept on the bottom boards either side of the centreboard case — although John changed ends because of my snoring!

15th August — Toward Bommarsund. A beautiful shirt and shorts day, pressure high. At 1020 we queued to go through the Lengstroms Canal and then sailed ten miles NE under cruising chute at 4-5 kn all the way. This was across an inland sea called Lumparn. We found our little harbour for the night under an old Russian battery built in the 1830s and captured by the British a few years later. In the battery were still four huge guns. We tied up to an abandoned dock below a sauna and had a distracting evening with naked people coming out of the sauna and plunging into the sea!

Here we met five charming 82 year olds in a big ketch who made us feel that our sailing life was far from over! (21 miles)

16th August — Toward Degerby — fog and storm. The end of high pressure. We tacked all day SE against a SSW2-4 with Lumparland on our starboard hand. At 1500 we were amazed to see a wall of fog rolling rapidly towards us from the south. Being out in the open sea, we back-tracked and fled to a nearby staithe until the fog had lifted and from where we were eventually ejected by a bad tempered Finn, who just stood and stared silently at us from 3ft away.

After the fog the wind increased to SW4 with gusts and heavy seas. Being now only three miles from Degerby we motored and seeing the dark clouds and hearing the thunder we put up our little cuddy and donned our oilies.

The fog’s sudden appearance was worrying as its occurrence had not been revealed in the expedition research. However, knowing that Degerby was a stop for Finnish sailors on the Turku-Mariehamn run, this was an opportunity to seek local knowledge, but immediate problems interrupted these thoughts. The entrance to Degerby was tortuous and treacherous with many rocks just under the surface. The sky had lowered dramatically. It had gone dark and now the thunderstorm was on us with very short flashes of lightning from the low cloud and torrential rain which calmed the sea immediately. The lightning got closer and flashes were striking islands all around us. It was awesome and John watched from inside the cuddy while I followed the twists and turns of the channel and tried to keep the chart dry, too busy to look up. The storm went on and on over our heads, but we finally passed through into the Degerby roads and found our guest harbour. Seeing a brilliantly lit restaurant to our right, we moored Jenny and ran, still in our oilies, to its shelter. We had a large hot meal and plenty of beers, having arrived just in time for Finnish supper at 1830. (15 miles)

17th August — Toward Roedhamn. Bobbin’s text forecast was SW, 9 miles per hour, warm and sunny. The glass was 1014 — down somewhat. The local forecast was for thunderstorms later and a cold front coming through with possible fog again. We were loath to leave Degerby as the wild life was very interesting with huge flocks of mergansers everywhere. Our friends, the 82 year olds in the big ketch and a number of Finnish yachtsmen warned of fog problems eastwards. I gathered that deeper into the Archipelago towards Turku, this problem was sometimes a persistent feature. Water temperature played an important part and many skippers had thermometers hanging over the side of their boats in harbour.

Although we had time, there were only 11 days left of John’s holiday and any delay further eastwards would reduce the possibility of being able to respond quickly to take advantage of a high. We decided to wait for a high nearer the straits and set off south- west. We had a difficult headwind all the way to the southern tip of Lemland and then a glorious reach in the open sea to Roedhamn (11 miles)

18th August — Toward Mariehamn — Hot bread and a brown bag forecast. Roedhamn is a cluster of small islands on the edge of the sea where, from earliest recorded time, vessels have waited for the weather to be right to make their passage. With the advent of steamers, the hotel and pub closed down and when the radio station also ceased, the Mariehamn yacht club took over the sheltered anchorage, making it their base and subsequently adding a guest harbour. Still primitive, it was run by a charming couple with a dog. The following morning we were awakened by the wife carrying a brown paper bag containing four hot, newly baked rolls with the weather forecast written on the outside. The message read ‘Good morning. WSW 3‑7 metres/second. Good visibility’. Again we thrashed out to sea, turned north and then suddenly found ourselves in the shelter of a chain of islands, another long reach all the way to Mariehamn. I had a hunch that a high would come through and watched the wind all through the night. (9 miles)

19th August — Toward Graddo — Across to Sweden. We got our high. The sea was still and calm. We had forty litres of fuel as a reserve and left Mariehamn at 0715. Crossing the shipping lanes, there was much traffic from the north — the Gulf of Bothnia. We wondered what they were carrying, but could see no visible sign of their cargo. South of us, ten miles away, the giant ferries paralleled our track.

We arrived at Graddo at 1630. It seemed like another world. With speedboats everywhere, it could have been the USA. We moored very near the petrol pumps and ate burgers with the local kids, at tables outside the hot dog stand.

In the evening a retired couple visited us and told us about the winter ice which is at least 12” thick. He had skated across to Aland as a youth and one winter in the 1930s his father had driven across in his car! Nowadays sea lanes are kept open by giant ice-breaking ships. Our hostess in Stockholm had told us that she was a member of a winter skating club and parties with guides make long trips over the ice. She always carries a special rope kit and is trained to be able to get herself out of the water if she breaks through the ice — and by all accounts then carries on skating. (40.2 miles)

20th August — Toward Moja — Lost! We set off south and as it was windy and raining, SE gusting F5, we did not set up a GPS route. Again we found ourselves at Kappelstar passing our little lighthouse and sailing under jib and mizzen across the twin shipping lanes in heavy seas. There was fog to the NE and a quarter way across the lanes, out of the fog bank burst two giant ferries coming towards us. We held our nerve and sailed to the central buoy with about two minutes to spare, tightened the mizzen, dropped the jib and hove to. In actuality we were moving astern through the water at 2-3 kn and the tiller needed a grip of iron to hold it amidships. The ferries passed either side of us, fifty yards away at full speed with huge bow waves. We had the jib up pronto and sailed over their wakes back on our southerly course.

We were slightly shaken by the speed with which all this happened. We continued and confidently felt we were identifying islands and lights correctly as we had sailed through this area on Day Three. However, by 1700 hours we realised we were lost! A quick GPS fix showed that if we sailed north we could reach a guest harbour before nightfall and at 1800 we arrived at Husaro.

This was the most weird landfall of the trip. We tied up to a jetty with a kiosk and petrol pumps leading to an Italian restaurant and shop surrounded by 15 to 20 summer houses — but there was nobody there! We found a youth inside the darkened shop and asked him what had happened. “We have closed for the winter,” he said. Summer apparently stops on 18th August! There was no petrol, no food of any kind, no water and only a nasty earth closet with numerous flies. The youth left a few minutes later on the inter-island water bus Cinderella Two, which roared up to the jetty, let off three or four people and disappeared again at high speed. With that, silence fell. All we could hear were construction sounds far away as a new summer house took shape. Husaro was a ghost town. (25 miles)

21st August — Toward Moja. A fine sunny day with a light westerly wind. We set off on a comfortable reach down the well-marked, sinuous north/south channel. Geographically we had left the northeast corner of the hour glass, angled in towards the centre and were now travelling south. This north/south route goes through the prettiest part of the archipelago and through most of the major nature reserves, but is difficult sailing. There are many narrow passes and sharp turns and it is obviously used as a challenging route by local yachtsmen.

Moja is a large island with one road and a shop. Mooring was difficult, but we managed it stern-to near a picnic table. It was a sunny evening and we dried our kit beside a boat with two very tall, unstayed, rotating masts. The skipper was from the very north of the Gulf of Bothnia — bear country, he said. Facilities were primitive and water was only available if you paid a kroner for 3 litres. (10 miles)

22nd August — Toward Sandhamn — Glorious sunshine. The barometer was up to 1029 and my knees were now quite brown. We had an uncomplicated, very exhilarating fast sail down to Sandhamn with a gathering fleet under sail, making for Sandhamn too. On our trip down we saw a tiny island surmounted by a picture book, single room hut with a green roof and yellow walls and a white staircase leading down to a landing stage, complete of course with a flag pole flying the Swedish flag.

Sandhamn was a wonderful surprise. It is billed as the Swedish Cowes, but is quite different. It had the only sandy beaches in the entire archipelago and was dominated by a large hotel which was a branch of the Royal Swedish Yacht Club. It is known to always have much better weather than Stockholm, which is roughly 30 miles away. We were berthed near Seb, the Swedish contender in the Volvo Round the World Race (successor to the Whitbread), and had our first supper in a café nearby sitting next to Gunnar Kranz, its skipper. (10 miles)

22nd-26th August — Day sailing. During this period of five fine days we set off in five different directions with the objective each day of having a sail and seeing a different area, especially the wildlife. We covered 62 miles in various winds, which started off in the NE and through the week veered slowly through to SSE; eventually on the last evening becoming stronger from the SW. Another high interlude. The sailing was exciting and we got the knack of keeping Jenny at five knots for long periods. She has larger than normal sails and with light winds and a heavy crew sitting well forward we really got her going. Over the horizon to the east was Russia and the small Baltic States some hundreds of miles away, but we noted that the sea didn’t seem to smell of the sea and is in fact brackish water.

Observing nature, we saw a large, sinister, green algae bloom, but no seals, porpoises or whales. Eider duck were the largest local population, but out to sea there were scoter duck, cormorants, grebes and mergansers. The highlight was a white-tailed sea eagle. During the week, Sandhamn gradually filled up. The rock concerts and discos were going strong from Friday night and a cruise liner appeared on Saturday evening! We got used to the noise eventually and the great bonus was the cafés and restaurants, few in number but good quality and cheap. (62 miles)

27th August — Rained off. The weather changed and broke with a terrific thunderstorm in the night. It was still very warm, but I ended up in a wet sleeping bag as the tent cover dripped whilst I was asleep. In the pouring rain that morning very few boats were left and we were soaked and dispirited, having struggled out to our little bakery for breakfast, only to find that it too had now closed for the winter! With the harbour clear, because the pleasure fleet had left, we noticed that Sandhamn was a depot for the Swedish Trinity House organisation. There was a small fleet of pilot boats and nearby a helipad, which was part of the archipelago’s medical services. At the height of the weekend a sea plane had landed and tied up to the pontoons.

John went home on the express ferry, Cinderella Two, in just shorts and jacket, aiming to change into dry clothes on his journey. Seb departed for the Round the World Race and the pavilion at the end of our pontoon was dismantled. I noticed that the glass had dropped from 1019 to 1002 that morning, which is where it stayed for the rest of the day.

28th August — Toward Bullando. I set off single handed, with the barometer still at 1002. My plan was a big swing south through the nature reserve islands, ending up at Bullando. The wind started NNW, F1 in the morning and ended the day ENE, F5. Challenging sailing, but I finished the day with a beat into the ENE wind under jib and mizzen and got quite wet. This southern area has big islands with large cliffs and high, rocky headlands near the mainland. I noticed that whilst we had roamed freely all over the archipelago, yachts kept strictly to the buoyed channels. (30 miles)

29th August — Toward Galino — Cut up by speedboats. The glass was rising. Hooray! After 1.5 miles I settled on a starboard tack for the next seven miles, northward up a long fjord and across the main channel. There were many narrow passes — one extremely narrow and only twenty yards wide, where I lost the wind completely. Whilst rowing, I was cut up by a water taxi and a big speed boat and nearly sank.

The island I tied up to was too small to have a name. It was right in the centre of a nature reserve and I moored in rushes. The water was clear, so I had a Swedish bath. This involved no clothes and a small bottle of ‘wash in sea water’ liquid. You plunge in and once wet, lather all over and then plunge in again. I saw many locals and visitors doing this during our journey, but had refrained from using the binoculars! I watched the grebes and ravens on this idyllic stretch of water until it was dark. (11 miles)

30th August — Toward Ingmarso — Reedy lagoon. I sailed through several dramatic changes of scenery. The winds were light and progress was fairly slow, but it was still warm. The wind piped up as I emerged from a group of wooded islands into a huge fjord with wooded, rocky islands and cliffs. I tacked east one mile at a time against this rising wind, until I passed through a gap between two rocky islands and found myself in suburbia. Lovely houses, manicured lawns, tethered speed boats, barbecues and garden furniture complete with umbrellas — but no people! Just as abruptly I left this area, sailing northward into a wide gulf with innumerable low groups of smooth-topped rocks sticking out of the sea. After some searching, binocular and compass work, I eventually found my destination hidden behind another rocky island. It was a reedy lagoon with one spare berth left and squadrons of mosquitoes, but with a telephone. (13 miles)

31st August — Toward Sjoda Lustero. Self-indulgently I revisited the prettiest islands tacking to the east, then south again past the abandoned village. I had another go at part of the testing, sinuous north/south route, then, as planned, a twenty mile romp down the fjord in a westerly direction, so exciting that I scarcely had time for lunch. The wind from the SE rose steadily all day until it was gusting F5 and I was down to jib and mizzen. I hung out over the port gunwale most of the day, badly missing John’s additional weight! A great day. (25 miles)

1st September — Toward Svinninge. The same southeasterly rising slowly to F4, the barometer steady and another great sail, reaching all the way with high average speeds again. My miscalculation was to go against the traffic. Hundreds of boats from Stockholm funnelled through the Lindelsundet, all rushing towards the outer skerries, on a weekend visit to their summer houses or Sandhamn. (12 miles)

3rd September — Sod’s law strikes at last! Back at Svinninge at the end of my journey, I said goodbye to Tom Nystrom, the harbour master and owner, and went to fetch my trailer to recover Jenny. Positioning it on the slope, I turned to change my shoes. To my horror, when I looked up it was fast disappearing down the ramp into the sea. Without thought, I dived in after it fully clothed complete with hat and found myself 25 yards offshore with no sign of it. I couldn’t have reached the trailer anyway because it was 3-4 metres below me. I swam ashore to take stock and think what to do next. It was pouring with rain and the marina was deserted. Five minutes later saw me running down the nearest pontoon, swinging my fisherman anchor around my head complete with chain like a lasso and hurling it towards the last suspected position of the trailer. It caught on something and I ran back, hitched the anchor rope to the car and drove slowly away. Miracle of miracles, out came the trailer. It continued to rain but I didn’t care. Jenny and I were homeward bound. We had had glorious weather, wonderful scenery and a fantastic month with only three rainy days. I have never enjoyed sailing Jenny more. We had sailed 376 miles in the only open boat we saw on the entire cruise.