Krabber!

The one we caught:

And the one we bought:
Just the right size for the pressure cooker and our plates.

We were so absorbed in consuming our crabs that we failed to notice the Norwegian king was in town - a big deal in a town of 6,000.

Rocks and rings

The Norwegian coast is a very rocky place, which can be disconcerting when you first look at the sea charts produced for leisure boating and see nothing but crosses. However, the scale is 1:50,000, they are usually well marked or visible and there is some fun to be had with them:

To get from Ny Hellesunt into the stunningly scenic Olavsund, for example, one has to pass through a five-metre gap in a eight-metre high rock wall with a power cable above at 12 m.

Through the looking glass:

Records of Royal visits to the anchorage:

Mooring to rock faces is quite common, often with rings kindly set into the stone. Our first experience of this was in a secluded anchorage off Skogsoy. After we had tied everything up, Jim poked the boat hook down the side and found that there was only a one-inch gap between a rocky ledge jutting out below the waterline and our hull. Once again, the fender board came in very handy, in conjunction with all the fenders on board.

The weather has been very good: pleasantly warm with plenty of sunshine and only the odd shower. Today, however, was a washout, our first full day of rain. We had some warning of this, in the form of a prominent ring around the sun yesterday afternoon and were careful to select a secure stopping place where we wouldn’t mind holing up for a couple of days. We spent the day resting and feasting as we had discovered a bed of large and succulent mussels the previous evening (and still have a pot full of winkles left for tomorrow – hopefully this will be joined by some large crustacean as we baited our lobster pot with the scraps from the mussel feast).

-Update: The first effort with the crab pot was rewarded with a large haul of starfish and one wee crab, who was returned to the sea to grow up a bit. The second effort was slightly better: 2 wee crabs. Today we happened to arrived in Farsund at the same moment as a crab boat and purchased a couple of whoppers at the very reasonable rate of a quid a piece. Delicious!

Outside and inside

One of the nice things about the Norwegian coast is that it has a protective fringe of islands and rocky outcrops (the skjaergard) so that one can either sail outside in the fast lane or amble along sheltered passages between thousands of islands on the inside. We sailed outside after rounding Lindesnes, zooming along at 7-8 knots with the wind right behind us. The plan was to reach the farthest point east of the voyage (just near Kristiansand) and hop back leisurely in 15 miles a day or so passages on the inside.

On the inside passage, at Ny Hellesunt

Freshly harvested winkles, winkled out with some stainless steel wire

Juicy mussels collected at Skogsoy


A peaceful evening on board

Onwards to Lindesnes

We departed the morning after the festival and stopped at an amazingly cute place, Korshamn, with picture-perfect colourful cottages and gardens right by the sound leading to Lindesnes light house. We went for a walk up the hill, gorging on blueberries along the way, when we spotted an even cuter place on the next island: Seloyhamn. We decided we had to go there – a secluded harbour lagoon fringed with well-kept wooden cottages and some ruins on the hills. We later found that it had been a popular stopover for kings waiting for fair weather to round Lindesnes; not less than 11 had visited, including the current one.

We made fast to a private jetty after checking with the neighbours that it was all right. The neighbour turned out to be the daughter of the last permanent resident of the island, who lived there until 1996. Formerly a community of some 80 souls, it couldn’t survive the modern age and now all are holiday homes. We were out for a ramble around the island when it started to rain rather heavily and we returned to the vessel. The kindly man from next door said to us: ‘I think it will not rain very much.’ Looking back on this remark provided a comical note as were marvelled at the intensity of the ensuing thunderstorm from the snug haven of our cabin.

Pirates of Farsund

Our arrival in Farsund, possibly the most welcoming harbour in the northern hemisphere, coincided with the annual town fete, a re-enactment from the days of the Napoleonic wars when a privateer ship was captured by the British and then recaptured by the town’s privateers 10 days later. Apart from us, this early nineteenth-century brig, the Adele, was the only British-flagged vessel in the port – and, by the end of the evening, she was flying the Norwegian flag. It was a fun night, very amateurish, but all the local folk obviously enjoyed dressing up as pirates, firing cannons and (wooden) sword-fighting. The festival ended with a fine fireworks display, which we took in from our cockpit over beers with four Norwegian friends met the previous day.

One of them, Inge, had just stopped to have a chat on his way by, and the way these things go (even in a country where the alcohol is as expensive as here) we ended up drinking copious amounts of beer and whisky on his boat and getting local knowledge about the best places to cruise. I left the lads to have ‘one more drink’ at 0300 and at 0700 Jim stumbled onto the deck, talking about what a beautiful morning it was. And it was truly a beautiful morning. Apparently, Inge and Jim had decided to go for an early-morning swim off the boat and were standing on deck stark naked poised to jump when they were put off by the vast numbers of gooey jelly fish floating around. At this point, Inge’s boat neighbour poked his head out of the hatch and was somewhat surprised at the sight!

Roughing it on the North Sea

We're now securely tucked up in the incredibly hospitable harbour of Farsund (free berthing, free morning paper and rolls delivered to the boat!), after a rather eventful crossing.

We advanced our departure to Thursday evening, noting on the weather forecast that a calm spell was approaching on Sunday, to be followed by heavy weather as an Atlantic front moved in from the west. Conditions were expected to be a bit rough on the first day, but rapidly easing down and we hoped to get across in advance of the calm.

It was a beautiful evening sail out of the Forth. Fairly brisk breeze until we reached North Berwick, where it suddenly dropped off from 20 to 10 knots. We duly shook the reefs out of the main and changed up to the genoa. Not for long though. As soon as we passed the May Island, the official dividing line between the Forth estuary and the North Sea, conditions deteriorated dramatically.

I was not long off watch and tucked up in the bunk when Sonja called down that it was time for a sail change. Was it ever. The swell was pretty outrageous. Wrestling with the genoa on a heaving foredeck was enough to start me heaving as well and it wasn't long before I could hear Sonja doing the same aft in the cockpit.

In fairly short order we had the boat snugged down for heavier weather, with the main double-reefed and the working jib set. The wind strength was only about F5-6, but severe gales further north had turned the sea into a cauldron.

That was it for our stomachs for most of the next couple of days. While the vessel charged on at a steady 6.5kt, we were basically able only to do the minimum required to keep her sailing. Eating and drinking were no longer an option. There was only sleeping or being on watch, which was mostly lying down. An enormous amount of water was coming over the decks and the cockpit was regularly deluged.

So it went on until the night of the second day. Earlier that evening, I had changed the headsail down to the storm jib as the wind was increasing to F7. Again I was off watch, the vessel was bashing along and we were in the middle of an oil or gas field, with platforms scattered around. I was suddenly wakened by a mighty thump and bang and opened my eyes to see a collection of objects cascading down from the galley, which oddly was directly above me, into the bunk.

Fettler had been struck on her port quarter by an enormous wave, laying her over on her beam ends. She popped back up immediately and the banging of the sails made me think something must have been torn loose as I hurried up on deck. Fortunately all was intact. The pressure of the water had blown out the bungee lines holding the bottom edge of the dodgers (canvas spray shields either side of the cockpit) and knocked the new Forgen wind turbine slightly around its axis on the pushpit rail, but that was all.

At this point, a rather shaken Sonja suggested that we turn downwind and head for Denmark. I had been thinking we would just keep bashing on as before but then decided that on the course we were on it was just too risky with the seas that were then running. Instead we hove to for 5 hours, got some much needed rest and then got back under way in the morning when conditions were slightly better.

One of the highlights of the voyage came at half past three that afternoon, when I was finally able to brew and consume a nice hot cup of tea. About an hour later, a tin of Aldi’s finest Irish stew (highly recommended) followed the tea down my gullet and all was well. Sonja’s recovery took another half day.

The sea took quite a long time to settle down when the wind started dropping, but by the middle of the third day it had dropped right off and we were motoring across steadily calming waters.

With 20 or so miles to go and the coast in sight a fine breeze sprang up from the SE and we coasted in to our landfall in brilliant sunshine, only wishing it could have been like that all the way across.

Along the Viking way

The preparations are nearing completion. The vessel is well stocked with food and drink (which conveniently doubles as an item of barter) and the weather forecast looks propitious for next Friday's scheduled departure, bright and early with the tide, for Norway.


The planned route is a straight line from Granton Harbour, with deviations according to Inchkeith Island, sundry oil platforms, other vessels and weather along the way, of some 350 nautical (400 statute) miles to the Naze of Norway.

There are several harbours that could be our port of entry, but the general idea is to spend a couple of weeks cruising the area between Farsund and Arendal:


There are many hundreds of islands along this bit of coast, which is reputedly warmer and drier than the spectacular fjord country further to the north and west. The sea temperature, we were delighted to discover, is presently a crucial 5 degrees warmer than hereabouts at 20 Celsius.

Can't wait! We'll post when and if we can while there and certainly on our return.