cdave | Sail blog: First 10 days

My trip really started when the no-frills, no-moving-parts, would-you-like-a-scratch-card, flight landed. I dashed out the door, and headed down the tarmac to the passport control, passing the people who would be boarding our plane before the seats had a chance to cool. While waiting for my bag to appear on the conveyor belt I got a text saying that I wouldn't need a taxi, as J was coming to pick me up. As I left the airport, they were walking towards the entrance. Great timing!

The next day we all took the neighbours dog, out on a walk through the local countryside. Wandering through some local woods, and finding a quiet beach to stop and admire the view. Denmark is a flat country and it's been rare time that we haven't been able to see several wind turbines turning gently in the breeze, generating electricity.

The next day we went to Ebeltoft, as mentioned in the last post. As we pulled in there was a single loud cannon shot from the historic frigate permanently moored there. I presume that this was just for the tourists and that they weren't in cahoots with the Keil warships. It's a lovely little town, with cobbled streets, and quaint old houses galore. It was sheltered from the sea wind, and was brilliantly warm. This was ascension day, and a public holiday, so many of the shops were not open. One of the few shops open was an ice cream parlour so my Aunt bought us ice creams, with a giant marshmallow shoved in the top before she and J bid us fair well.

We then had a fairly pleasant sail to Greena despite the wind remaining dead against us. As we came around the headline the wind swung with us. While we were moored up we heard several gun shots. R thinks they were starting a race, but I resolved to keep an eye out for those Keil warships. The next day while M worked, R and I went dug out the Bromtons and rode off to explore the local town and surrounding area. We followed a group of Australian tourists into a ancient courtyard and found a small museum there. The receptionist told us that we would find "Old things" in it. When pressed she said they were "Local old things". She wasn't wrong. There was everything from an collection of diesel fishing boat engines, to neolithic axes and from bacolite radios, to a model railway.

When we got back, I took advantage of the free WiFi; Our lacrimose skipper took a particularly innovative approach to slicing onions (mask & snorkel); M checked the weather and re-arranged her work to allow us to sail the next day, as Friday didn't look too promising.

Wednesday saw us battling 30 knots of wind from the North, again dead against our target. Pulling up to 7 knots with a reefed mainsail and genoa, we did manage to out pace a similarly rigged German vessel that set sail at the same time. The high waves did wash an unsecured bow line off the deck. We were in danger of losing out new fender boards, as the the waves crashing over the front railings where they were tied. However after spending all that time sanding and drilling them out, R wasn't having any of that, so crawled out on deck and retied them between waves.

The wind meant that we couldn't make Laeso, so we headed west to Hals. The next morning I left M to her work, and R to cut ropes, and splice them together again or whatever it is a skipper does on his boat. I headed off a-wondering on the Bromton. Having been reading Don Quixote, I declared that I would send back any defeated warriors to swear at M's feet, but unfortunately had no cause to prove my honour.

Then on Friday Richard and myself headed off the 30 kilometres to Alburg by bus. When we got there we found that it was another public holiday. So almost everything, including the churches were shut. We stopped for a couple of pints of old English ale, before heading back. Which brings us up to date. Go to go now. Dinner's reading.

Farewell Denmark, Hello Norway.

We set of from Hals at a reasonable hour, having paid the harbour master in advance this time. Thus saving him from giving a mighty clanging to the bow of the boat wherein I reside.

(Sorry if the language gets a bit flowerey here, but I've had a mammoth reading session today and have just finished part one of the tales of that most worthy of errant-knights, the knight of the Woeful Figure, none other than Don Quixote del Mancha.)

Many of the people of the town gathered about the harbour edge as we made fast the hatches, and we did think they had come to see us off. But alas, it would appear that they had heard tell of mighty rig setting sail, which beat us out of the harbour. We gave chase and soon outstripped the beast.

It seems that the lay up in Hals had lifted the curse of the North wind that had so vexed us and thwarted our progress at every turn. Instead the wind came direct from behind us. As the morning's drisel lifted off, so out we dragged the Spiniker, and hoisted that great bellowing bucket sheet at the bow to pull us on. While we had a few hours of very calm sailing (even unto the point where I snuck in some sun bathing) eventually the wind dropped so low, we were forced to moter the rest of the way in to Saturday night in Skagen. But not before another run in with the military. We spotted a submarine on the horizon to the stern, and looking at the sat-nav were surprised to find it putting an out an AIS. U31 is apparently 188ft long, but is keeping quiet about it's destination.

Skagen was a site for sore ears (if you'll pardon the mixed metaphor). It's the northernmost post in Denmark. It seems it's something of a party town, with Norwegians and Swedes heading over. In the leisure harbour itself many boats were rafted (double parked) but we snuck through to the back and found a single berth. Opposite a brilliant boat full of loud Norwegians, partying away to Eurovision and Robbie Williams. We needed to put out a kedge (anchor at the stern), but hadn't realised this until after we'd tied off at the bow. So we lowered the Zodiac, and Richard rowed up out, while I heaved the anchor over the back. I fell over most spectacularly much to the amusement of the Swedes on the boat next to us. The harbour water was full of the orange stinging jellyfish Mary had warned us about.

It quietened down when everyone wandered off to either watch Sweden versus Denmark, or just drink in the bars. With a favourable forecast and a long sail to Norway planned, we called it night rather than join in.

We broke our fast the next morn while motoring round the headland. At one point the depth was only 1.4 and we getting worried we'd have to back out, but rapidly dropped off. Before long we had over 100 meters beneath our keel, and the depth finder couldn't detect the bottom. This was deeper than this ship has seen for many a day.

The morning was full of labours as the wind blew strong, then died, then came back from another direction, then another, then another. This occasioned much furling, unfurling, and (after pleading from me) the deploying of the staysil. We made over 8 knots West for a time with a 12 knot wind from the South. However again the wind dropped down, leaving us with many hours motoring to get into Kristianson before nightfall.

We made it just in time for a nice sunset drinks. The coastline here is certainly very different from Denmark. The turbines have been replaced with cragy rocks and high hills. Looking forward to a day off to explore the city tomorrow.