Category: Uncategorized

Sunday 12 – Tuesday 14 August

After a quick scramble to refill the depleted fridge, our next visitors came onboard after lunch, and we were soon away to follow the Easternmost route out of Stockholm and South towards Saltsjöbaden and the Baggensstäket. These friends have considerable sailing experience, albeit mostly in dinghies, and spent a weekend with us in the Western Solent some three years ago, when our current lifestyle was still but a twinkle in our eyes.

Enjoying the beautiful scenery in spite of the light, intermittent drizzle as we motored steadily down the gorge, beneath high level power lines at 32m, and a stone arch bridge at the narrowest part of the gorge, only 30m above our heads, we then found ourselves in a very narrow and shallow stretch of water, on a blind bend. Inevitably, as we reached the mid-point of this channel, a yacht rounded the bend coming towards us – towing another on a long line. Her skipper seemed unimpressed that we had not employed our VHF radio to make ourselves aware of his presence, and neither were we prepared (or able) to move across any further to ‘our’ side, as our top spreaders were already brushing the overhanging tree branches. We escaped unscathed, and were no sooner clear when a large passenger ferry came steaming past us into the passage – what could have ensued had we been five minutes later in there doesn’t bear thinking about.

South of Saltsjöbaden, we found ourselves once again in more familiar ‘skärgård’ (Swedish archipelago) territory, and found a gorgeous anchorage tucked well into a long inlet just South of Ägnö, 15M from the city. It was a popular spot, with a small secret bay just beyond the main cluster of boats, and Mate couldn’t resist attempting to tuck in there for a little privacy. However, it soon became clear why no-one else had picked it: surrounded as it was by rocky woodland, the sea bed was very weedy and there was no room at all to swing at anchor if the wind should change. Making the most of our lifting centreboard, we nudged instead deep into the edge of the main area, only then realising we had been attempting to hide from two new yachts eligible for the Alu Club, both red-trimmed Ovni, both flying the red duster – three red aluminium boats in the same place at the same time…spooky. One of their skippers commented that it was something of a British invasion, as a Swedish-flagged charter vessel was also crewed by Brits on holiday.

We enjoyed a peaceful evening, with supper in the saloon for the first time in months. It didn’t seem to dampen enthusiasm for a beetroot and goats’ cheese tart with toasted hazelnuts, courgettes and new potatoes, followed by now practised raspberry frangipane tartlets.

Monday morning dawned drier and brighter, and we set off close hauled under full main and genoa, for a respectable passage of 37M Southwest, including some respectable top speeds between weaving through yet more of these delightful islands. Here they are much more sparsely populated, and with far less ostentatious dwellings than near Stockholm, but all the more attractive with rocky outcrops and dense woodland, low lying in the sparkling sea.

As these guests have sailing experience, we had agreed in advance that we would sail the next couple of legs towards our next main destination, Copenhagen, delivering them to a town with a train back to Stockholm for their flights home, at the end of our time together. Their second night with us was again at anchor, just out of sight of a busy port and ferry terminal, tucked into a peaceful bay on the island of Bedarön, just East of Nynäshamn. Due to another slight malfunction in the galley department, the planned menu didn’t quite work out, but nonetheless a repeat of the Rendang curry and mango/passionfruit/coconut mousse seemed to be well received.

On Tuesday morning we made another early start for a passage of the same length as yesterday, into Nyköping (pronounced like knee-sherping, so nicknamed ‘no shopping’), where it turned out the anticipated trains were not running, but a bus service was available. The sailing to this port took two and a half days; the return bus ride one and a half hours… Our guests were able to enjoy a little more of the local scenery, and experience some particularly intense pilotage through rock-strewn lagoons of very shallow water, before the final long motor up a channel in a spreading lake bordered by reeds, reminiscent of the English Norfolk Broads. This last stretch was enhanced by our first sighting this season of a pair of cranes (feathered – like huge herons), and possibly our last of a sea eagle.

Nyköping harbour hosts the national rowing centre, with a training lake laid out in buoyed lanes just like the Olympic site at Dorney, near Windsor. Our arrival increased the number of British yachts to three, of a total of only about a dozen in the pleasant marina, as it was the end of the season and the harbour office was already opening on ‘Winter Hours’. The facilities are clean, well-maintained and include a free sauna and spacious laundry room, and the young lady behind the desk was charming and friendly.
On their last night with us, our generous guests kindly treated us to a tasty supper (maybe they’d had enough of the random chaos of l’Escale’s galley?) in a nearby hostelry – the only one still open this late in the year!

Saturday 11 August

As per our last visit, on Saturday morning we moved berths, unfortunately getting stuck in the silt before we finally wriggled ourselves alongside into a borrowed space. Then it was all hands on deck to tackle laundry, watering and cleaning the boat, ready for a crew change.

Tuesday 7 – Friday 10 August

Just after dawn on Tuesday morning, three friends from ‘home’ strolled along the pontoon, fresh from their overnight ferry after a weekend-long party in Helsinki. Fortified by a full English breakfast, and possibly bewildered by a full Skipper’s briefing, we slipped the lines for a gentle introduction to cruising: 12M motorsailing with genoa in light winds, on flat seas, amidst lovely scenery. We returned to our ‘builders’ anchorage, for supper of Rendang Curry and Mango & Passionfruit Mousse.

Relatively early on Wednesday morning, we set off for the open sea and Sweden. It soon became apparent that we were not going to be ‘third time lucky’ on this passage, as a brisk SSW pushed up a choppy sea before we were even clear of the islands. We were soon down to second reef and staysail, and two of our company kept up a steady communication with our trusty buckets, Jimmy 1 & 2. Having taken the precaution of seasickness remedy at the appointed time, our remaining guest valiantly resisted any and all discomfort, in spite of over-exposure to the elements that later resulted in blisters and sore skin.

It was with immense relief all round that we finally slid into the more sheltered waters of the Swedish East coast, dropped and furled the sails and motored into our selected anchorage off Torparö, East of the Stockholm archipelago. We’d sailed 33 Miles in just under eight hours, touching a top speed of 8.2 knots; our average speed was four knots…and it didn’t rain. Recovery was swift once calm waters were regained, and the atmosphere relaxed over supper of cottage pie or fish pie with spicy colcannon topping, followed by baked nectarines.

Having chosen an anchorage for its shelter from forecast wind, the first entry in the following morning’s log reads “less weather than expected last night”; doubtless this contributed to a good night’s rest, and it was with renewed enthusiasm that we weighed anchor, stripping the chain of a discarded fishing net and disposing of it safely, and set off for another 38 Miles in warm, if sometimes damp, weather. Helming was shared more evenly today, and once again we hit 8 knots, reaching in lovely conditions.

We treated our fantastic new recruits to a night in our secret ‘beaver/osprey’ anchorage, relaxing over another cockpit supper of baked nachos with minute steaks, the latter perfectly cooked by Skipper on the back step. Dessert was warm raspberry frangipane tarts, narrowly avoiding disaster due to a temporary oversight in the galley.

Friday being the final day of this trip, we relaxed a little as we flew the genoa here and there to complete the final 15M into Stockholm. We docked safely once again in Wasahamnen, but our guests seemed oddly reluctant to depart for their hotel – had they enjoyed the experience, or was it just exhaustion and relief at surviving kicking in?

Thank you, guys, for a great farewell meal (safely on terra firma), a wonderful time, and some very special memories. You’ll be welcome back any time.

Thursday 2 – Monday 6 August

Once again we had a fantastic sail across to the Åland Islands, enjoying a colourful reach under mainsail and gennaker in a steady F3 Southerly breeze. In the Southwest of this archipelago we found a pleasant bay on the North side of Södra Labbholm, in front of an unfinished house. As we’d noticed elsewhere, the dock is completed first, then the sauna (although this was not evident here) and finally the living accommodation. At least with the pontoon sturdy and stable, the builders could arrive by motorboat for the day’s work.

Skipper was called upon to change the gas canister, which fortunately ran out only after supper had been cooked.

With a plan to anchor off Mariehamn that evening, in order to combine a free night with a social occasion, the tender was hauled from the sail locker so Mate could inflate it to give it a test run. Inevitably, a new puncture had materialised since its last airing around a year ago in Scotland, and Skipper’s best efforts at repair were not going to produce magically instant results. So in the afternoon we pottered back to Mariehamn East harbour, for a return supper invite from our lovely friends on Saltimbanque: fabulous proper Breton crêpes, even if they were washed down by local ‘cider’. It was great to catch up on our mutual wanderings, and swap tips for forthcoming anchorages.

Having made the most of our walk-ashore berth to catch up with laundry, we left the harbour once again on Saturday evening, to retreat to the anchorage that we’d used before, just down the channel. Sunday was mostly quiet, apart from the mother of all thunderstorms, that loomed menacingly towards us from the Western sky, and caught us square in its eye, with torrential rain and forked lightning forming a ring around us. This time, we were quick to disconnect all electronics, and stow the portable ones in our very own Faraday cage – otherwise known as the oven. Everything on a boat should have more than one use. We were glad to escape any further loss of instrumentation.

On Monday we headed back into Mariehamn, now half empty after the end of the Finnish holiday season, and were able to tuck inside the line of stern buoys to tie up alongside the outer pontoon – much more our style.

On the way into the harbour, we felt like we were looking into a mirror – just setting their anchor in the bay was a sister Allures 45: hull X24, just two before l’Escale, now with her second owners and renamed Duo of Hamburg. Another contender for the Alu Club, and a delight to meet and exchange experiences over a brief drink in our cockpit, followed by an equally brief ride on their ready-prepared tender to play ‘spot the differences’. She also has a red interior with American cherry woodwork, and a slightly darker red external livery.

After all this excitement, we watered the boat and stocked up the fridge, cleaned and baked until late.

Wednesday 1 August

Continuing our journey Northeast towards the open sea, we made the most of a steady F3 Easterly on the genoa to motorsail an alternative route from the one we’d followed on the way in to Stockholm. Still avoiding the main ferry tracks wherever possible, we picked up a somewhat garbled Mayday call on our VHF radio, from a British yacht that was reporting having run aground a little way ahead of us. We were not close enough to reach them any time soon, but maintained radio watch and soon heard the Swedish rescue service offering assistance. Later in the day the yacht appeared on our AIS monitor, and we tried to make radio contact to check they were okay. It seemed, however, that our radio was once again receiving but not transmitting, and Skipper spent a sticky hour at the chart table taking apart the connections once again, cleaning them up and reinstalling everything. Fortunately, this seemed to do the trick.

We anchored at the third attempt just South of the island of Gålgryte, in water a little more open than Mate prefers, but at least there was some welcome breeze.

Thursday 26 – Tuesday 31 July

Mindful that local time was now an hour behind that in the Åland Islands and Finland (Central European Summer Time, CEST: GMT+2), we decided to keep Ship’s Time as we would soon be heading back to Mariehamn. Meanwhile, we enjoyed a lazy day at anchor, with a cooling swim to the smooth rocks on the other side of the bay. Below the water surface, a fuzz of green weed coats the face of the rock, while the higher dry areas are equally difficult to clamber onto after being sanded by the glaciers of the last Ice Age, some 10,000 years ago. However, it was worth the scramble, as they are warmed by the sun and feel a little like a hot stone massage.

The sunset was very red, leading Mate to wonder if she should trust the old proverb
“red sky at night, sailor’s delight”
– recent experience has been of unsettled or stormy weather following such a sky.

On Friday we began to weave our way in earnest Southwest towards Stockholm. Winds are often light and variable in direction among the islands of the skärgård (Swedish archipelago), and we made several sail changes to accommodate this, sometimes motorsailing to help our progress. At best we goosewinged the two foresails, or flew the gennaker, while following a slalom course among yachts and speedboats. We enjoyed particularly the scenery of the Stämmarsund, especially the sea eagle and deer, the latter in somebody’s garden!

Once again, we found a comfortable anchorage tucked deep up an inlet of Värmöländet, and swam from the boat to cool off.

On Saturday morning, Mate rose early and was rewarded by a small herd of fallow deer grazing their way across the grassy bank behind the anchorage. By now it was very hot, close and sticky. We set off in a light Easterly, struggling to fly the genoa downwind across a lumpy sea. Just South of Vaxholm, a busy port with numerous ferries and tourists swarming like bees around a honey pot, we passed only the second British-flagged yacht we’ve seen all season, a Southerly 110 Wind Rose, and exchanged an enthusiastic wave.

As we entered the final channel approaching Stockholm, we were bemused at the apparent lack of application of the ColRegs, whereby vessels should pass port-to-port (ie keep the oncoming craft on your left), and leisure craft should keep well clear of big ship channels. Here, yachts and motorboats were zipping around apparently randomly; maybe because this is how they behave in the ‘highways’ out among the islands. The water was brown and churning, reminiscent of the Thames approaching London, and we were glad to pass the soaring towers of the funfair rides and turn into Wasahamnen on Djurgärden, where we were asked to raft alongside a resident ship, the Slaggifadar.

The following day we moved away from the turbulence caused by the constant river traffic passing our stern, into the relative shelter of an inner berth in Wasahamnen. This was extremely tight, but we squeezed in without incurring any damage. At least in here we had access to water and electricity. We found our way to a local supermarket, and enjoyed a ferry ride to Gamla Stan, the oldest part of the city that stands on an island of its own. While enjoying a cool beer on the outdoor terrace of a bar edging Stortorget, the oldest square, we were entertained by a local brass band playing a range of well-known pieces, rounded off with an Abba medley!

On Monday morning we followed local advice and were up early to visit Scandinavia’s most popular museum as it opened at 0830, before the cruise ship groups invaded. The Vasa wooden warship was built in 1628, ornately decorated with over 700 carved and painted wooden sculptures, illustrating the power and influence of the king she was to represent. On her maiden voyage on 10 August, a gust of wind caught the four sails that had been set, she heeled enough to allow water to flood into the open gunports of the lower decks, and she sank 32 metres to the bottom of Stockholm harbour, claiming 30 lives.

The mud and brackish waters of the Baltic preserved the timbers exceptionally well, until 333 years later, when a salvage operation began in 1956, with divers dressed in heavy, unwieldy suits, employing what now looks like incredibly primitive technology. The ship was eventually brought carefully to the surface, watched by thousands on the first national live television broadcast. It is housed, almost intact, in a huge building maintained at a carefully controlled temperature and humidity, amidst ongoing research into preservation and restoration. Replica masts are positioned on the roof at the height they would have stood above the ship’s decks.

She is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and this is an excellent museum, including exhibitions detailing life on board, and the role of women in this period of Swedish history. We learned that it was not uncommon for widows to take over their late husbands’ businesses, in which they had already been actively involved. Outside the museum is an attractive garden, showcasing contemporary plants that would have been common in medicine and kitchens. We spotted a small black/chestnut squirrel in one of the beds. Fika (a Swedish coffee and cake break) in the excellent café overlooking the harbour was an unexpected bonus.

There is only so much culture, civilisation and citizens we can take before being overwhelmed, so in the late afternoon we slipped out of our berth, as always more easily than we’d entered it, and out of Stockholm. The contrast between the islands of the Swedish archipelago and the Åland Islands is as marked as that of the Ålands to the Finnish archipelago: in Sweden, the islands are higher and more densely wooded, the trees are taller and the rocks much less prominent. The small cottages of Finnish islands, often partly hidden among the trees, become large, colourful houses, often decorated with ornate carved gables like a gingerbread house, or turrets and towers resembling a French chateau. Most have a private dock and mooring, furnished to sit, enjoy the sunshine and watch the world go by, in between sessions in the waterside sauna and dips in the sea from the swim ladder on the end of the pontoon.

Fortunately, there are still spots of perfect solitude to be found, and we’re becoming better at spotting them on the electronic charts. Just 14M out of town, we found ourselves in a quiet inlet. Once the local water- and jet-skiers had buzzed off for the day, complete peace descended, small fish were jumping all around us, we were thrilled to spot an osprey, and a beaver swam by the stern.

The last day of July marks the end of the Finnish holiday season, while in Sweden it extends a couple more weeks. Apparently the weather gods are aware of this, as it remained hot and sultry. The only problem with being so well sheltered was a complete lack of cooling breeze. Ah well, just need to dip around once an hour…if only the local fishermen would leave us in peace. At dusk, the beaver repeated his swim-past for our benefit.

Wednesday 25 July

We set off in a leisurely way mid-morning in a light Southerly breeze, motored for two hours and were then able to sail a lovely close reach under mainsail and gennaker, our beautiful statement red sail in a sea of white. Crossing the shipping lane between the Western Åland Islands and the East coast of Sweden, we noticed once again ‘Escale’ on our AIS monitor – an even stranger coincidence the second time around. This time we were close enough to see her through our very powerful binoculars, and identify her as a catamaran. AIS told us she’s 11 metres in length – and 6m wide! Unsure of her nationality, we weren’t quite confident enough to call her over VHF, but wondered if she’d noticed us?

As the afternoon breeze backed to the Southeast, we swapped the gennaker for both foresails, and performed the courtesy flag changing ceremony at the border. With the coast of Sweden gradually improving in definition, we called a cargo ship to be sure they knew we were in front of them; they confirmed they would pass astern of us and we exchanged polite wishes for a “Good Watch”.

Covering 35 Miles in a comfortable less-than-seven hours, we tucked into a cosy anchorage just North of Arholma marina, just into the Northern end of the Swedish archipelago. As dusk fell, we spotted two otters bounding along the rocks at the water’s edge.

Wednesday 18 – Tuesday 24 July

At the entrance to the Gulf of Bothnia, the section of the Baltic Sea that separates Sweden from Finland and stretches right up North towards the Arctic Circle, lies a cluster of islands, of which the largest, Åland, gives this archipelago its name. The Islands have their own distinctive flag, and are autonomous in such matters as the postal service, vehicle registration, health and education. They belong nominally to Finland, but Swedish is the dominant language (as it is in much of Western Finland).

The ‘border’ between the Finnish Archipelago and the Ålands is the Kihti, or Skiftet, a channel that meanders somewhat in a roughly North-South direction. However, it is noticeable how suddenly the scenery changes: the Finnish islands are relatively bleak, with smaller pine trees, larger expanses of bare granite, and sparse population, while in the Ålands, trees grow taller and include birch and other deciduous species, often under-carpeted by coarse grass and low-growing scrubby bilberry bushes. Because it has been very hot and dry all summer, much ‘greenery’ is struggling to survive, resulting in early displays of stunning Autumn colours. It is somehow a softer land (sea) scape.

It is also extremely popular, as the Summer holidays are now in full swing, and the main routes are very busy with every size and type of yacht, and the ubiquitous motor boats, which tear around in all and unpredictable directions, tossing the rest of us around mercilessly in their wake. A particular sport seems to be to charge through narrow gaps between a pair of yachts – two for the price of one, I guess – double the fun.

Our first stop was Jurmo, a little West of Kustavi, where we managed to pick up a stern buoy and tie up bows to the high quay without too much drama and with help from those already in. We enjoyed a delicious lunch of local specialities on a comfortably shaded terrace, and walked it off gently on a short stroll into the hinterland.

The following day our departure was less straightforward: our friends on Olles Wonder came into the harbour looking for a berth, and although my crew hadn’t made our usual preparations, we dropped everything and slid out to let them have our slot. We probably would have got away with it, except that the gennaker furler had been loosened to allow them to step off the bow without tripping over it, so it started to unfurl around Mate’s ears as she was trying to collect and stow lines and fenders. This is a huge, lightweight sail that has a mind of its own at the best of times, and obviously thought it was time to come out and play. Olles Wonder later told us they were very impressed that we’d “sailed out of our berth”… but I think they were just being kind, judging by the twinkle in her Skipper’s eye.

It was one of those days, as it then took us five attempts to settle the anchor firmly for the night, off Lökholm.

On Friday we pottered a mere 12M, motorsailing with just the genoa in a pleasant Northerly breeze. A little after lunch we came alongside the shiny new high pine quay in Lappo, to find Olles Wonder just the other side. We enjoyed their company once again over afternoon tea, before departing, fee free, to a cosy anchorage just around the corner in Halsviken.

Saturday brought another pleasant Nor’westerly, which we enjoyed under a genoa reach, alternating with goosewinging both foresails and reaching speeds of 6+ knots. That night proved to be one of our favourite anchorages, Söderön, and even though we had to share it with half a dozen other yachts, one was a potential recruit to the Alu Club – only the third such yacht we’ve seen here.
It was such a pretty place, we stayed put for a lazy Sunday. On Monday it was time to seek civilisation once again, and we gambled our centreboard depth along a channel marked as extremely channel – following any number of yachts with much greater draft than ours. In the end, we were never in less than 2.8 metres of water, and enjoyed spectacular scenery. We were able to sail across a wide open rocky ‘lake’, before taking a second channel, with the genoa providing varying levels of help, into Lumpern Lake. Here we flew across the stretch of open water under full sails, enjoying a warm, sunny afternoon.

At teatime we doused the sails and started the engine, as we approached the channel into Lemstrom’s Canal. We hovered briefly to await the 1800 opening of the bridge across the canal, then ticking off the marks until we reached Mariehamn East Harbour. We did an excellent impression of Bumbling Brits as it took us two attempts to pick up the stern buoy, low in the water as a Finnish yacht was already secured on its top-ring, and in a not inconsiderable crosswind, and we eventually came to rest bows-to the pontoon – a long step down from our dolphin.

Tuesday was spent taking on water, filling up the fridge and dealing with four loads of laundry, before we escaped gratefully – enough of civilisation, already – to anchor in Kapellinken Bay on Söderby, within sight of and just two miles South of Mariehamn. All on our own again…once the four motorboats had all beat a speedy retreat homewards.

Sunday 8 – Tuesday 17 July

The sun shines – almost all day and night – it is still never darker than dusk, with a sunset glow in the Northern sky that fades only as the new day dawns. The wind…is mere zephyrs: when it’s in the right direction, we drift along under genoa, blissfully peaceful after the hours spent chugging along under motor.

The scenery is spectacular: small, isolated boulders make ideal perches for any number of seabirds; granite rocks in pink and cream, as well as grey, smoothed by ancient glaciers, somehow support and sustain substantial growth of conifer and birch trees, with occasional splashes of brightly coloured wild flowers at their feet; some islands are edged with several species of reeds, their feathery heads whispering in the breeze. We weave a careful track along well-marked channels, some wide like a lake, others narrow and high-sided like a gorge, and everywhere are wooden cottages, snug among the treetrunks or perched precariously atop the granite.

It is peak holiday season here, and the main water highways are crowded with yachts of all sizes, motorboats tearing around disturbing the peace and bouncing us around in their wake, and ferries plying the inter-island connections. Towards evening we pinpoint a cluster of islands, selecting a deeply indented bay to tuck into for our night at anchor, sheltered from whatever wind may be predicted. Local custom is that if the banner is flying, the neighbours are in residence (just like the Royal Standard over Buckingham Palace), and visiting craft are encouraged not to lie within sight of the windows.

Another local custom is to moor tied bows to a rock, with the stern secured to a buoy or anchor; we haven’t attempted that yet, and so attract curiosity by floating ‘free’ at our heavy bow anchor, unencumbered by land or too many unwelcome guests of the buzzing, flying variety. Apart from the stress of driving straight towards an unforgiving lump of stone (so far we’re maintaining our 100% record of not bumping into the scenery – at least that visible above the water surface), a great advantage of this method is that we achieve natural air conditioning, as the boat will always swing into the wind, which is scooped by the gaping hatches down into the cabin. As a bonus, the view from below is constantly changing.

From the decks, we’ve spotted a number of sea eagles, another bird of prey, perhaps a European variety of buzzard, or possibly an eagle? Water birds include grebe with chicks, swans and cygnets, heron, tern, cormorant and several species of gull. On land we’ve seen a doe and her fawn, a glimpse of another roe deer, and a small herd of Belted Galloway cattle. Further off was another group of cows, possibly Highland or Angus, horned and shaggy-coated.

Some anchorages are good for a second night, in case new sights every day are not relaxing enough. Mate takes advantage of Skipper’s designated ‘lazy days’ to work on mosquito nets, custom made to fit the various apertures needing protection.

Allures, and of course specifically l’Escale, are the perfect choice for this type of cruising: the lifting centreboard means we can slide through much shallower water than most yachts of our size, (even many smaller boats have much more restrictive draft) while our water tank volume, capacious fridge and appropriate sanitary provision encourage us to be completely independent for days at a time. We carry a flexible wardrobe of sails, suited to a range of weather conditions, and our powerful engine carries us effortlessly, thanks to generously-sized diesel tanks.

Saturday 7 July

A little ‘city-ed out’, to be honest, and after the briefest pause at Passport Control coming back into Finland, my crew spent the rest of Friday and most of Saturday provisioning and catching up with laundry duty. They were delighted with the treasure trove that is the new Hakaniemi market hall, only a kilometre’s cycle ride along designated cycle paths mostly along the waterside, that offers all manner of delicious fresh foods and local artisan crafts. Outside on stalls in the market square, prices of fresh fruit and vegetables, of undeniably high quality, were something of a shock: a week’s produce for two came to €80.

There was a bonus to spending so long on our departure preparations, though, in the shape of my new best friend Saltimbanque, who arrived into HMVK in time to say hello and for our crews to make arrangements for a social visit in the coming few days.

We finally slipped the lines at 1900 and headed West into the evening sunshine – yes, of course the weather had improved again now our guest was no longer with us. At last we were back on anchor, dropping the hook in a lovely peaceful spot between Pukkisaari and Pyöräsaari, two of the hundreds of islands outlying Helsinki.