When I wake up, it doesn’t look good at all: Clouds of fog pass by. For half an hour you can’t see anything, then it opens up until the next fog bank covers the island like a cap. – I consult the weather apps, but instead of clarity there is only more confusion. So I go to the shop, ask where I can find the most weather-experienced fishermen, and realise that everyone in the shop is weather-experienced… Yes, I hear, this period of transition between spring and summer, that’s just the way it is…
The sense of equanimity is obvious; if no one has to go out to sea, then you just don’t go. But the ferry arrives and departs on schedule – should I just follow it? The water worries me less than any boats without AIS, which I would not see or only see very late. – The wind is supposed to increase, but by then I hope to be in the archipelago off Stockholm, where the waves can’t build up in this wind direction and the ArgoFram can get through easily.
Thought, done. For the first few kilometres I follow the ferry route, then I turn southwest, and suddenly I’m heading into the open sea towards Sweden. And I suddenly drive into exactly those waves that I don’t love at all, not now. But it has to be once… From the south, they tower up to about one and a half metres over the long distance through the Baltic Sea, but at least they come regularly. For about half an hour I am quite challenged; I sail in the wave valleys towards the west, only jumping over the sharp (nasty) wave hills every now and then… each time a nervous test of courage, although the ArgoFram seems to have no trouble with it. With a certain speed, there is apparently no danger of tipping over and I shoot up and through the waves at half an angle (the bow grips well; I compensate for the annoying right-left tilt with my legs).
After a while, routine sets in and I start to relax. – Because the visibility is often very diffuse, I don’t notice anything on the way, nothing of the surroundings, except that in this long valley, which I enter between the villages of Furusund and Köpmanholm, I sometimes come up close to boats from behind, because I only recognise them relatively late in the haze and without AIS. Then I make a wide turn and overtake them – it seems they are all heading for Stockholm as well.
In Waxholm I make a pit stop and fill the tanks. Better now than having to search for a petrol station in the hustle and bustle of Stockholm, I think. In the process, I make an unimpressive but interesting experience: in Sweden, the land of social equality, many things do not seem to me as they are propagated – there is a noticeable gap between those who stroll along in this small town and the harbour and those who own a yacht and are quite obviously privileged and also treated privileged. I ‘sense’ this not by the clothes or other external features, but by the behaviour of these people, the matter-of-factness and looseness they act out (how they are above things) and the money they spend ‘just so’ at the petrol station – and how ‘homage’ is paid to them just as naturally; all the staff in the harbour area behave with a conspicuous presence towards them. I think I can see that subtle clues make it clear which way the wind is blowing – one is formally the same, but those with me at the jetty and refuelling are more equal, somehow. (Let’s see if I encounter this merely perceptible phenomenon again).
The entrance to Stockholm is great. Many yachts are on the way, really magnificent boats over 20 metres long. I reduce my speed and marvel. The waterways are a bit labyrinthine because of the many branches around ‘urbanised’ islands. And again and again I am delighted to discover impressive new buildings and works of art facing the water. But I keep straight on, I drive right into the historic centre, past the amusement park into the marina right by the Vasa Museum!
Somehow I seem to be adopting this casual, laid-back self-confidence that I met in Waxholm. In any case, I appear surprisingly convinced that I want to spend the night here in this harbour, although it is quite full – no, that I am entitled to a place here after all – and I get it. When I moor up, I notice that the place is teeming with ‘floating’ valuables: whether large boats or small ones, they are decidedly noble. What a world this is!
Coming from the amusement park or going to the Vasa Museum, many people stroll along the marina (and marvel at the decked-out yachts from the outside); it is open to the public, no gate, nothing to stop people, and yet this elite keeps to itself here. Invisible barriers?
I unfold my bike, explore the area, get into beautifully landscaped parks, do my exercises by a park bench, and go shopping. All is well – all is very well, because Martina has expressed the wish to accompany me through Sweden and comes over on the plane at short notice.
The next day we meet in the city centre and go on a city tour with my scooters. Arriving at the harbour, we organise ourselves, pack their few belongings into the boat, and make ourselves comfortable in the cabin.
It has been raining since my arrival, and because my yacht doesn’t really offer any space, staying together on board soon presents us with our first challenges… The next day, we ‘escape’ together and visit the amusement park next door! – Having fun, good idea. We board a few rides, get whirled through the air, go out to eat, and make the best of this changing, but overall very gusty weather.