My dearest reader, and also the rest,

time sails away, doesn’t it? I left you in Oban, remember? After that, Yaniv went to Loch Aline, Tobermory, Sanna Bay, Loch Ceann Traigh, Arisaig, Eigg, Mallaig, Loch Na Dal, Balmacara Bay, Raasay, Portree, Rona, Gairloch, Duntulm Bay, Scalpay, Stornoway, Loch Grimshader, Loch Roe, Kinlochbervie, Orkney (Stromness, S. Margareth’s Hope, Scapa Bay, Bay Of Ham), Fair Isle, Shetland (Bay Of Quandale, Lerwick, Fetlar, Eswick), then crossing the North sea, arriving at Buavågen, Røvaer, Utsira, Haugesund, Bukkøya, Husøya, into to the Hardangerfjord (Leirvik, Nautøya, Lykelsøya, Rosendal, Sild, Botnen, Lofhus, Ulvik, Norheimsund), Lunde, Lysøya, Hjellestad, Faerøyna, Geitøy i Alverstraumen, Kjelstraumen, Fonnes, Eivindvik, Dingja, Fjaerøyna, Aldevagen, Svanøya, Florø, Håøyna (Frøya) and back to Florø again.

Woah, I didn’t realize I visited that many places, anyway, what I want to say is that I can’t say something about every place without boring the hell out of you.

I remember in the beginning I was a afraid of sailing, especially since the sailboat is my home, in which I invested much money and time. Afraid that something could go wrong, touching the ground and breaking the keel, the hull breaking for no reason (I was probably also afraid that a 2 meter wave could break it), a fire, a seacock breaking, etc. And now I’m much more relaxed, much more confident in my skills, in my boat, my reactions, and eventually able to enjoy sailing much more.

Oban to Stornoway

From Oban we (Saskia and I) continued our voyage north. As we planned to go back to Switzerland towards the end of June to visit loved ones (and eventually also to say goodbye), we had to find a place to leave Yaniv for 3 weeks. We decided to leave it Arisaig at a mooring buoy.

After a break from our break, we continued our trip. In Eigg we anchored in very shallow waters, having about 20 cm under our keel, a neighbour at maybe 3 boat lengths to the west and a shore to the east, made it a not so comfortable night.

"Saskia, do you think that sheep fall of the cliffs when it's gusty?" "No Mirco, they are not that stupid".

In Mallaig a very kind sailor gave us homemade lasagne and homemade tiramisù. A couple of minutes later he came back with garlic bread since apparently one can’t eat lasagne alone. Thanks again stranger!

We then passed through the strait of Kyle Rhea after various attempts. The first failed because we had to gybe in the strait, but the genoa decided (or better I allowed it) to pass in front of the boat. And having had maybe 15 kts of wind made it difficult to remedy. After managing to furl the genoa up we decided to pass by engine. But by the time we reached the strait again, the current was so strongly against us that we had to anchor nearby and wait.

In Portree, Eloïse, a friend of Saskia joined us. As we were moored up in Gairloch, a sailboat (Matrice) was approaching the harbour, but instead of moving by herself, she was towed by a fishing boat. Broken folding propeller they said. As they got released from the fishing boat, the person at the bow threw a line at land such that we could tie her up. The problem was that the other end of the line was not attached to the cleat on the boat and fell into the water. It was a very comical scene! (could have easily happened to me as well in the heat of the moment)

Saskia left us and Eloïse and I continued sailing, first making a stop to anchor in Duntulm Bay. On the chart it was marked that at the south entrance there was a wreck which was “Always Dry”. But as we approached the entrance nothing was visible. In this kind of moments I start to be worried. Did the wreck collapse? Move? Is there too much tide? Is it not correctly charted?

After a stop in Scalpay we sailed to Stornoway. That was one of the most tiring passage I’ve ever made. A mix of getting up early, strong winds, 90% closed hauled, tacking multiple times, made us arrive extremely exhausted at the destination. There, Eloïse left and Saskia came back. In Stornoway we met Jörgen, a nice Swedish sailor, thanks for your company, the beers, and helping me up the mast!

Stornoway to Orkney

We decided to head a little bit south and anchor at Loch Grimshader for two nights, before crossing to the mainland.

Approaching Kinlochbervie, we saw 2 white balls in the sea. Strange. Strange size of buoys and nothing marked on our charts. Also strange shape. It was only when we were about 50 meters away that we noted the fluffy nature of them, with legs and a head sticking out.

The wind was coming from south-west and we spotted a nice anchorage sheltered from that direction. As usual, we held a little meeting, discussing the tides, looking at the charts, and decided at which depth to drop the anchor (usually something like 6-8 m). As Saskia was approaching the depth which we agreed on, I was ready at the bow to drop the anchor. I then started to see the ground as clearly as when we anchored in Eigg, something was wrong and I yelled at Saskia to immediately reverse. Luckily nothing happened, I now have a permanent fear inside my soul which will haunt me for the rest of my days, thanks Saskia. It wasn’t completely her fault, the chart plotter didn’t update the position fast enough (maybe she was going too fast?). Anyway, lessons were learnt on both sides.

Then the evening came. Then the night came. Then early morning. The wind was picking up, gusting uncomfortably. I could not sleep, I was on my phone browsing the internets. Saskia was trying to sleep in the V-berth and she asked me what that strange noise was. “What noise? That grrrrr? Ah, probably nothing”, but went outside anyway to have a look, shit, the anchor dragged, shit, we were dangerously close to shore (rocks). I started the engine, went to the front to retrieve the anchor while Saskia was steering us away from danger. Shiiiit, that was close. This time 100% my fault. I didn’t yet have the habit to set an anchor alarm, and, I should have put out all 40m of chain given the conditions. Even more lessons were learnt at that very wise anchorage.

After a couple of days at the marina of Kinlochbervie, it was time. Time for the passage to Orkney. That one was tricky to plan. We decided to go to Stromness since it was nearer than Kirkwall, and decided to take the W entrance, also because it was the nearest. So not so tricky after all. The issue with Orkney is that there are strong tidal currents. Luckily, there is a website with useful information. They recommend to start the transition at slack water. There I started to be unsure about what slack water means. Obviously, it means that there is no tide. Ok, and when is it? Does it coincide with high water and low water? Well, not necessarily. That’s where the Admiralty Tide Atlases comes handy (or better: is a must). From the high water time in Dover you can derive when slack current will be. Nice, just don’t forget to correct for summer time. And where exactly do I want to be at slack? at 10 NM from the entrance? 2 NM? We knew which tidal window we wanted to use and departed accordingly. Then, during the night, I redid the calculations. Mhz, did I compensate for summer time with the wrong sign? Well, let’s redo the calculation, ok, this time I’m sure, let’s hope. In early morning, I saw that we were ahead of time, so I went about 10 NM more north to kill some time. After tacking I realized that I could not directly head to north-west since the wind was to close. I always assume that I can perfectly tack at a 90°, but with currents and waves, this angle sometimes is heavily increased. That meant putting on the engine at an uncomfortable speed to make up for my mistake.

I find it always difficult to map the real world to the chart, especially approaching a marina. I try to identify some landmarks and find them on the chart. Or see on the chart that the marina is right there after that buoy. Which lateral buoy is that one? It must be this one on the chart. Ah, no, that’s the next one. Or is it behind the big ferry which is coming straight towards me? I should correct my course, where will he go? Is this the ferry heading to that place? Let’s check on AIS. Yes, it is, that means it’s better for him if we cross Green to Green. Will he understand? Sure he will. Oh, there is fishing vessel which popped out of nowhere since my focus was only on the big ferry. Oh, is there also something coming from the direction of the sun? I guess, does he understand that I can’t see his intentions since I’m blinded?

Orkney

In Stromness, Saskia left for two weeks to spend some time with Franky. That meant, time for me to relax, read a little, visit Orkney. Or to solo sail? Mirco, that’s something you always wanted to do, now you have the perfect conditions, it’s end of August, it’s warm, still lot of light. Ya, I don’t know, I can’t yet do all manoeuvres alone, handling the lines and steering, anchoring, what if something unusual happens, I’m not ready. The truth is you will never be ready, you will never have everything figured out before starting. All the books, youtube videos of Erik, tales from friends, will never replace the actual action to fully prepare you. Now, it was time to have some balls and sail solo. Woah, that was a scary moment. I removed all the lines, threw them on deck and reversed. Oh wait, what happened? Shit a fender is stuck between two elements of the finger pontoon. First little heart attack after 0.0005 nautical miles. After pushing the boat away from the pontoon I finally managed to leave the marina. I decided to go to Saint Margaret’s Hope, an anchorage about 15 NM south-east. After a couple of miles I was looking at a vessel heading in my direction and caught myself asking “What are you doing?”. I think it was a question to myself. After 2 nights at anchor, I moved to Scapa Bay. The wind was increasing, and as I was reefing the main sail, I accidentally pulled the wrong reefing line and tore the mainsail a couple of cm at the mast. No bueno. Luckily it was below the the height of the first reef.

There were probably 20 kts of wind, and as I passed behind Boaty McBoatface, I felt how the wind quickly diminished, giving me a temporary relief. After tacking my way into Scapa Bay I was exhausted.

In the beginning it was difficult to find the courage to go to the chart table for a couple of minutes to decide when to tack, go to the toilet, change gear, eat something, etc. I find that on sea there is either something which is never happening, happening in 30 minutes, or situations which require immediate action. It’s about avoiding the necessity of immediate action, like with a near collision, or reefing when the wind is already too strong. For once it’s about staying in the comfort zone, because believe me, you will get out of it without wanting it.

Now it was about time to exit the sheltered waters and have some fun with a night passage! I decided to exit the Scapa Flow the way I came in, from the west access, since I already knew that waters. I passed there a little bit after slack waters, flushing me out. At the same time, there was swell coming from the Atlantic. I had to discover that tide against swell is a magic combo for big, uncomfortable waves. Wind was present but could not advance with the waves which were forming. So I had to motor a couple of miles north to get rid of tidal currents. The night came. My first night sailing alone. Darkness all around, maybe some dimmed lights coming from the coast, no moon. There I realized how beautiful, and dangerous it can be. If I would fall into water, there is no chance of survival. One wrong step on deck, or a correct one with an big wave hitting the boat, and bye bye. But better not think about that. As I started my night sailing I set an alarm every 30 minutes to wake up, have a look outside, at AIS, radar, chart plotter, and to correct course and sails. I was thinking of setting alarms at 22:00, 22:30, 23:00, etc. but then I thought, wait a minute, what if there is a solo sailor nearby who does the same? The risk of collision would be bigger, as we would sleep at the same time. So to add randomness, I instead decided to use a 30 minutes timer on my watch from the moment I laid down (and a backup one on my phone). The night passed without any major events. Initially I planned to reach Kirkwall, but 15 NM before it I felt that I needed a break. In the morning at about 10:00 I picked an anchorage and went to sleep. I wanted to go to Kirkwall to buy a new Camping Gaz bottle. But also did not want to go to Kirkwall because I was afraid of docking by myself. What to do? Am I now stuck on the ocean forever? Do I have to get Saskia at anchorage by dinghy when she comes back? Mhz. I decided I was not yet ready to embarrass myself and decided to make my way to Fair Isle. After retrieving the anchor I headed out of the bay I was in. Woah, I noticed that I was Speedy Gonzalez. The tidal atlas did not mention anything for that spot, but I had what must have been like 5 kts of current with me. That can be very dangerous as you are not manoeuvrable without speed over water, so I had to push a little bit with the engine to be sure to be safe. Then, going out west between the islands it happened again, swell against tides, this time bigger, but fortunately with a slower period, meaning I had the time to take them nicely, up and down, up again, and guess what? down again. Quite fun the first 3 minutes.

Again, after some time the tidal current got less strong and the waves calmed down. Somehow my autopilot TP22 did not manage to correctly obey my commands. Probably also a little bit my problem, sail trimming has never been my speciality. I probably was on the edge of what it could handle. I hand-steered the boat, then put on the autopilot, that it managed to handle. But afterwards, when I told Geraldine (that’s her name) to bear away, it first tried to recenter the tiller, and then bear away, but it was not possible anymore because I was already at the limit. Stephen (my other autopilot) would never have done something like that, but unfortunately it was broken. Again, the night was pretty much uneventful, occasionally I saw some Christmas trees (passenger ships with light strips). By the first morning light I was approaching Fair Isle from north. I decided to anchor in the north haven and sleep a little bit. But after dropping the anchor, I had a bad feeling. The wind was gusting from south and did not have much clearance north-east. So decided to moor at the pier. I set up the fenders, the lines, retrieved the anchor and attached to the pier. Done. Easier done than explained, all the worries for nothing. +4 confidence point gained.

Fair Isle

I spent a couple of days relaxing in Fair Isle. Relaxing might be the wrong word. As it was not a floating pontoon, Yaniv rubbed against the pier wall with it’s fender as the tide changed. And when there was a little bit of wind, the boat rocked, and at low tide I was afraid of touching the pier with the mast. Completely unfounded fear. But still lingering in my head as I tried to sleep. In Fair Isle I met Ingjerd and Halvard, a Norwegian couple who sailed down from Trondheim. John, an inhabitant of the isle, showed us around. First he drove us to the south lighthouse and explained us how it was working there back in the times before being automated. Then he guided us through the local museum. I’m not good at retaining facts, so I won’t say anything about it.

Thanks Halvard and Ingjerd for the dinner and your help afterwards when I had questions about Norway, hope to see you again. Tusend takk!

Shetland to Norway

After a night at anchor on the south tip of Shetland I sailed to Lerwick, where I met Thomas on S/Y Teo, a Norwegian sailor from the Hardangerfjord. After a couple of nights drinking and fixing the boat, I decided to explore the north of Shetland while Thomas went south.

Two days later, back in Lerwick to continue the trip together with Saskia, Thomas was also there, as there was too much fog around Fair Isle and without radar nor AIS, he decided it was wiser to head back. With his help and equipment I managed to stitch the mainsail, now it’s almost as new, takk!

We decided to cross the Norwegian Sea together. On a cloudy Sunday morning we decided to do the crossing.

During the first night we lost sight of each other but regained visual and radio contact the following day. He told us the he didn’t manage to rest since his autopilot was not working anymore, Then in the beginning of the afternoon he told us he would take a rest, and we continued sailing south-east, put a second reef in order not to be too quick, but lost sight of him shortly thereafter. There was some swell, 2 meters maybe, we were sailing downwind and I was mostly hand-steering. It’s impressive to see oil platforms, thinking they are connected to the ground which is hundred of meter below them. After a couple of hours, towards the evening, scanning the horizon I saw what I thought to be a red distress flare. Is it Thomas? I put on the autopilot, took my compass and noted down the direction from where I thought to have seen the flare. Nah, can’t be Thomas, we left him behind, he can’t be east of us. I made a radio call to ask if somebody saw something or new something. No answer. What to do? I’m tired. Saskia is seasick. Did I really see something? Was the my bearing correct? It took me some time to put the autopilot, did I lose my course then? An hour later, I saw another flare. This time I was sure, so I removed the sails and steered towards it by engine almost at full speed. I started to hear strange noises from the cabin, some weird beeping sound. Let’s ignore it for the moment. Then again, was somebody whistling into the radio? Did it come from my AIS receiver? Strange, just a short beep, maybe 1 second long, about every minute or so. After 10 minutes I had the suspicion that it came from the engine, so I starred at the console and waited for the beep. Good, problem identified, I have a problem with the oil pressure. I immediately switched off the engine, and remembered I had seen an oil canister somewhere. I poured some oil into the engine, checked the level and guessed that is was ok. Engine on, no beeping anymore, perfect, let’s continue our quest for the flare. After maybe 30 minutes I saw an AIS target, Aurora Spirit, from the direction where the flare came. Then I saw the ship, a well illuminated vessel, a Christmas tree on steroids. I could hear some chatter on CH16, in some weird language, must be Norwegian. Were they doing an exercise? And the chatter on CH16 continued, are they so undisciplined these guy out here where nobody can hear them? For a moment I hesitated to hail Aurora Spirit, but I was tired, unsure of what to do, and what to say, and didn’t want to interrupt their chatter. And anyway, whatever was happening was being under control. So we continued towards Norway. After another night sail, we started to see land, nice! Some well deserved rest in sight. And cellphone reception. I wrote Thomas to know where he was. After a couple of hours he replied. He fell in the boat and had to be transported by helicopter to the hospital. Shit. So instead of going to the agreed meeting point we stopped a little bit earlier, in Buavåg. Woah, what a crossing.

Norway

As Teo, Thomas’s boat was still happily floating in the Norwegian Sea, we decided to help him rescue it and bring it back safely. We went to Røvær to discuss our rescue operation with John, a sailing buddy of Thomas. We stayed in Røvær a couple of days waiting for informations of the whereabouts of Teo, but nothing came.

Marina (søsteren min) and Urs came to visit us as they were driving up north of Norway with their camping van (#vanlife). After 4 days we still had no news about Teo, so we decided to sail around the four of us.

We sailed for 5 days and said goodbye to Marina and Urs in Haugesund. Saskia and I sticked around Haugesund a couple more days and helped John apply antifouling on his steel boat, Kittiwake.

We then went into Hardangerfjord, visiting some nice places. The nicest ones were those with free showers, followed by free pontoons. Thomas informed us that Teo was found beached along the Norwegian west coast. Shit.

We stopped in several places before reaching Ulvik. As Marina and Urs were on their way south, they decided to meet us there and spend a couple of days together. Saskia left with them as she returned to Switzerland, allowing me to perfect my solo skills. In Ulvik I met Tor, previously an apple farmer who now is in the Kayaking business. As he was dreaming about Contessa 32s since some time and never had the chance to sail on her, he accompanied me to Lofthus. Unfortunately the wind was very rare and we could only sail for a couple of minutes. Takk Tor for your company, sharing local knowledge and the sandwich!

In Lofthus I met with Thomas. He is doing well again, thanks for asking. With his help I installed a wood oven, as I didn’t want to rely only on my unreliable diesel heater and on shore power for staying warm. After a couple of days staying at Thomas’ place, it was time to go out of the fjord. In some places the water started to freeze and the wind could be very very mean.

Slowly I went north, starting to feel the solitude. I stopped in several places, planning shorter passages every day since sunlight wasn’t abundant anymore. I had lot of time to think about my future, my life, what I want to do, but have not reached any conclusion. I applied for 2-3 jobs in Norway but that didn’t go well. I like it here, and can imagine myself living here. Fortunately everything has gone well until now, nothing expensive broke, no big unexpected repairs, that means I’m not yet forced to take a decision quickly.

Mid December I went to see the crash site of Teo, to see what’s left, take some garbage and useful stuff with me.

After a night at anchor with not too much sleep as usual I felt I needed a break. Believe me or not,. but it’s stressful to sail around, especially if you don’t have a clear goal. All the anchoring, the wood cutting, planning, running, sailing, decision taking, etc feels like being on the run. So I decided to leave the boat in Florø for a couple of weeks and go back to Switzerland for Christmas.

Love

Mirco