From: RobertBail@aol.com Date: Sat, 27 Dec 2003 11:28:41 EST Subject: PB Rpt 2003-8, Sweden and South To: W5TFY@amsat.org POOH BEAR REPORT 2003–8, Sweden and South Starting: Oslo, Norway – 24 August 2003 Ending: Norderney, Germany – 20 September 2003 The last Pooh Bear Report ended with five enjoyable days in the capitol of Norway, Oslo - the city of a thousand statues. All through Norway we had enjoyed an almost historically hot and dry July and August. But September was near and could mark a dramatic change. Although weather records showed September could be mild, the records also showed the start of the autumnal gales. With this in mind we looked at the charts. Surprisingly, Pooh still had more than 800 miles to travel through Sweden, Denmark, Germany, and Holland. And our North Sea crossing back to England would surely extend well into October. It was definitely time to push on south. We had a pleasant sail with a beautiful anchorage down the Oslo Fjord. On an overcast mid-afternoon, the 25th of August, we crossed that invisible dotted line marking the southern border of Norway and down came the Norwegian courtesy flag to be replaced by the Swedish flag. The Norwegian portion of our cruise might have been at an end, but Pooh Bear's 2003 cruise was far from over. Stromstadt, our first Swedish port of call lay only 5 miles farther south. We picked our way through a myriad of great bare, rounded rock islands to a very confusing harbor approach. Its entrance bore little resemblance to that shown on our cruising guide and charts. As we drew closer, with the help of a map painted on a fifteen foot high sign board, it all became clear - a massive breakwater had been extended west to more than double the size of the harbor. Inside, nearly a hundred new floating pontoons stood empty, though next August, I suspect, the sight will be quite different. We motored past the new sections to moor closer to town in the old section of the harbor. Wanting to satisfy officialdom in a new country, we went straight away to immigration at the police station. We were disappointed to find they had no interest in us. They would not stamp our passports. They already contained a Schengen country stamp - Norway's. So next we sought out customs at the new ferry terminal. "Have you anything to declare" asked the officer. "No". "Then why are you here?" We went away. Between the EU and the Schengen Agreement, we are not sure what customs and immigration are interested in. Some weeks later, in the middle of the North Sea, we were to learn more. But all was not lost as we did find the office where the VAT (value added tax) Judy paid on some sweaters in Oslo was partially refunded, on the spot, in cash no less. Stromstadt was a pleasant town, but it being a Monday and out of season, only little was open. An ATM funded our Swedish Krona kitty and, pleasantly, the Park Central restaurant did little to reduce it – at $20 it was our first under $30 bill in several months. The following morning we pushed on south, sometimes slowly and carefully inside the rocky islands, sometimes out in the Skagerrak where we could make better progress. The west coast of Sweden down to Goteborg was much the same, yet different from the southeast Norwegian coastline. The same in that they both had a maze of rocky islands offshore through which we could thread our way in smooth water. But different in that the Swedish islands were bare rocks, mostly totally devoid of trees. Also, they differed in the lack of any sign of man – no power lines, no vacation houses, no bridges. Only thirty miles east across the Skagerrak from the northern tip of Denmark is Sweden's only major west coast city, Goteborg. We rode a fair tide up the Gota River to Lilla Bommens Hamn, the compact city marina in the shadow of the ultra modern opera house. For four days we walked about the city, enjoying the historic sights and the, not so historic, large Nordstan shopping mall. We spent much of one day at the Goteborg Maritime Centre, which claims to be the world's largest floating ship museum. On a busman's holiday, we rode the harbor ferry to the Elfsborg Fastning, the fort guarding the entrance to the Gota River. The tour guides told, sometimes acted out, the often-violent history of the fort. On our return, we hopped off the ferry at the old Eriksberg shipyard – now a marina and building site of the modern Gotheborg, a full size replica of an East Indiaman merchant ship. The original Gotheborg sank outside the harbor in 1745 upon returning from a 30-month trip to China. Being built in the same manner as the original ship with tools of that time, we saw it nearing completion. In 2004 it is scheduled to depart on a voyage retracing the path of the original Gotheborg, presumably without the sinking part. South of Goteborg the coast changes and there are few islands and no anchorages. As a result we stopped each night in small harbors, some without charge as it was past the sailing season. At Molle, we look down on Pooh as we dined at the elegant Grand Hotel. he winds got up during the night creating a terrible surge and causing Pooh to slam fore and aft in an alarming manner. Judy and I were up much of the night adding additional lines, resetting existing lines, and repositioning fenders. Our efforts paid of and Pooh suffered no damage. Several hours out of Molle we lowered the blue and yellow Swedish courtesy flag and in its place set the red and white Danish flag. Our first port in Denmark was Helsingor, home of Shakespeare's Hamlet. Now being experienced at entering new countries, we didn't even attempt to contact any Danish officials. Instead, we spent the afternoon walking about town and touring Kronborg castle, better know to English speakers as Elsinor. As with most medieval castles, it would not be the cheeriest place to live. Never the less, the size of the structure is awesome and in excellent condition. Inside it houses one of the more impressive maritime museums with many beautiful ship models. While walking about the docks that evening, Judy met a Dane with a boat name that seemed a bit strange for a Danish boat, it being Okeefenokee. The owner explained that, though he had never even been to the States, he read of the swamp and just liked the sound of the name and its meaning, "Moving Land". A short day's motor took us down the Orsund amid shipping moving north and south and ferries moving east and west, then into Copenhagen and its very busy harbor. Instead of stopping in the marina near the harbor entrance, we motored on past the royal yacht and found a berth at Christianhaven. While called a marina, it is unlike any marina we have seen before. Actually, it is a complex of canals with boats moored one and two, even three deep sometimes, on each bank. In fact, at one point we had two boat moored outside Pooh. Twice we were hit by boats maneuvering, but suffered no damage. While technically outside the limits of the marina, we had electric service via cables laid for blocks along the quayside, had access to the showers (at $1.50 for 3.5 minutes of hot water), and paid the $17.50 a night. This also gave us access to Gorm, the harbormaster, who was ever so helpful in multitude of things including phone calls, directions, local knowledge, and customs. For four days we toured the sights of Copenhagen. As the capital of Denmark and home of the longest continuous monarchy in Europe, the city has a rich heritage with government and royal building on every hand, over 400 years old. We walked a great deal, but also used the new underground metro system. We could also have pedaled about as but two of tens of thousands of bicycles in the city. Bicycles can be rented at street stands for about $3.00, then the $3.00 refunded upon return to any stand. We also toured the city on one of the many tour boats that ply the canals ringing the city. Our tour guide spoke first in excellent English, then in Danish. Near the marina was the Freetown of Christiana; a sort of commune of about 1000 persons, where the government tolerates soft drugs and far out activities provided they do not spill out of the commune. Weeks earlier when in Tananger, back in Norway, one of our pontoon visitors was an Eric Hjelmer. Eric explained he was near the end of his contract working at nearby Stavanger, but lived in Copenhagen and urged us to call him when we reached there, which we did. He and his wife, Susanne, came to the boat, once to visit and again to drive us about the city and the surrounding countryside. It was a wonderful day, especially a visit to the statue of the Little Mermaid of Hans Christian Andersen fame. Sadly, the day after our visit, vandals attempted to blow up the Little Mermaid and it had to be removed for repairs. We enjoyed a picnic at Dyrehaven, a former royal hunting ground dating to 1669. Susanne brought a Scandinavian specialty – Danish pancakes with blueberry jam, washed down with an old Danish liqueur called Gammel Dansk. Danish drinking and driving laws are very strict, but specifically permit a driver one shot of Gammel Dansk. We ate surrounded by several herds of wild deer, some with most peculiar antlers. We finished our day with a visit to their house and inspection of the sailboat Eric is restoring. But all was not sightseeing and touring. Eating was certainly another activity. We found several restaurants including the American Breakfast and Barbeque. I enjoyed a pretty good American Breakfast, but at very dear price. We also discovered a novel hotdog. Instead of the bun being split, it had a hole down the middle from one end only. The hole was filled first with the condiments, onions, etc, then the wiener pressed into the hole. Worked pretty good. Another activity was engine repairing. Once again I had to replace a dripping raw water pump. And then I found diesel fuel in the crankcase and had to improvise repairs to the engine fuel lift pump. And, of course, drain and replace the contaminated oil. Ah, the joys of cruising. But soon Perkins was perky (I couldn't resist that) and after five days, Pooh motored out of Copenhagen a few miles south to Dragor with the express purpose of getting fuel. But would you believe, the dockside fuel pump was broken. No problem. The dock master took our two jerry jugs away in his truck, had them filled and returned. The cost - exactly the price of the fuel. Over the next few days we motored and sailed through the Danish islands, anchoring each night. Unlike the Norwegian waters, Danish waters are shallow and much of the time we were confined to a marked channel requiring extreme vigilance. But it was a very pleasant passage with good anchorages. In general the weather was good, though one night a north wind reached gale force. Fortunately we were securely anchored with a protecting island close north. With seldom a light in sight to mar the anchorage darkness, Mars, though a little past prime, was still a spectacular sight. We spent out last Danish night in Bagenkop, an absolutely delightful place with free laundry facilities and one of the best restaurants we have eaten in. Bagenkop was definitely well known to the local German sailors. The following night we, once again having changed courtesy flags, were at the British-Kiel Yacht Club in Kiel, Germany. The British Kiel Yacht Club was nothing like what I had envisioned. It is quite small and not particularly posh. It is actually mostly a training center for the British military and came about shortly after WWII. As I understand it, the Allies had confiscated all of the German yachts and clubs at the end of the war. But gradually the properties were returned except for one club. Eventually that last club was returned in exchange for a perpetual lease on what is now the British-Kiel Yacht Club. The next morning, Judy, after climbing a 10-foot ladder in the lock wall, paid a very reasonable $15.00 for our 50- mile passage through the canal. Whatever the fee, we probably would have paid it as to do otherwise would have necessitated a 500-mile sail around Denmark, including 200 miles down the inhospitable and dangerous Danish west coast. In stark contrast, prior to entering the Kiel Kanal locks, we topped our tanks with the most expensive fuel ever – 34 gallons at $4.31/gallon! After that calculation, I vowed to sail the length of the canal, but unfortunately, the winds and traffic made that an empty vow. Our two-day passage through the canal was really quite pleasant, despite sharing the waters with numerous ships, large and small. The canal is wide, well marked, and run with typical German efficiency. Multiple locks at each end provide for small boats and yachts to lock through safely and effortlessly. We spent the first night at the halfway point, the city of Rendsburg and the second night at the southern terminus of Brunsbuttel. We locked out of the Kiel Kanal in company with two other yachts, one German and the other British, expecting no problems in the river Elbe. But as the gates opened, a white sheet blocked the lock opening. Feeling we had no choice, we motored into the wooly stuff with radar, GPS, and computer chart operating and eyes and ears tune for maximum sensitivity. The German boat, lacking radar, was literally 10 to 20 feet astern and the British boat, Bye Jingo, with radar, was close astern of them, though often invisible to us. Elbe Traffic Control thanked us for our call on VHF and assured us we were on their radar scopes. It was terribly reassuring to see each buoy emerge from the wooly stuff exactly as expected. An hour and a half later, visibility began improving and was nearly clear three hours later as we nosed into very large and modern marina at Cuxhaven. Much of the pleasure of cruising comes from the unexpected friends you meet. We met the crew of the German boat and helped them get their computer navigation program operating. Unfortunately we lost contact with them. But, not so with Bye Jingo. That evening in Cuxhaven, we were invited for drinks with Les, the owner, and John, his crew. They were returning from a season in the Baltic, including a visit to St. Petersburg, Russia. I suppose we stayed so long that John had to invite us to stay for a wonderful dinner aboard. Two months later, John and his wife Ilse, again fixed us dinner, but this time in their beautiful apartment, formerly a warehouse, directly across the Thames River from our berth in St. Katharine's. Feeling the breath of winter close by, the following morning we rode a fair tide down the Elbe and motorsailed to Helgoland and stayed two nights. The island is high and rocky with sheer cliffs dropping into the sea on three sides. It is a duty free German island about 50 miles off the coast. Almost everything on Helgoland is new as it was virtually flattened during WWII. There is no industry other than tourism, virtually no vehicles, other than electric ones, are permitted, water is by desalination, and power by special clean air diesel generators, making living on the island is costly. Hoards of tourist bringing lots of money arrive by the shipload, many on only day trips, to buy cheap booze, jewelry, perfume and cigarettes. While our next destination was Holland, we were intrigued with the prospect of going via the shifting sandbanks behind the Frisian Islands. Here comes your geography lesson - The northwest German and Dutch coasts are bordered by a string of low-lying, sandy, offshore islands - the Frisian Islands. Between these islands and the mainland are hundreds of square miles of sandbanks that twice each day dry at low tide. It is this area that was the location of Erskine Childers spy thriller of 1903, "The Riddle of the Sands". Between most of the islands are shallow channels leading to a harbor protected from the North Sea. Most channels are now marked with buoys but still should be treated with great caution and only entered on a rising half-tide. After two nights in Helgoland we reviewed the five-day weather forecast. It was favorable for one day, but the following days looked not so good. While Helgoland was very interesting and we could easily have stayed a day or two more, we did not relish a week's stay. Before 0700 we were off for Norderney. Three hours later we turned southwest to parallel the sandy islands to port. Again, the weatherman lied – the southerly wind had veered forcing us to motorsail into a building southwesterly. By mid- afternoon, a haze, probably spray from the breakers to port, limited visibility to a mile or so. First on radar, then visually, buoys were to port, but a half a mile east from the ones on our chart. Between the buoys were no breakers - convincing evidence the approach channel had shifted and been rebuoyed. With Judy calling the depth sounder reading, me watching the radar for the next pair of marks, and both looking at the breakers on each side, we motored it. The channel never shoaled to the 8 feet the chart and tide state would indicate, there never being less than 12 feet. At 1600 we had rounded the end of Norderney and into a slip at the newly enlarged and renovated marina. Although not the most pleasant and relaxing passage, it sure was lot better than experienced by those boats following a day later – they took a terrible pasting and had a harrowing entrance. For five days we enjoyed Norderney, waiting for the right conditions to cross the sands. In the next Report we will tell how Pooh Bear did it. End of PB Rpt 2003-8, Sweden and South.doc Bob & Judy (aboard s/v Pooh Bear at St. Katharine Haven in London, England) NOTE: PLEASE address any e-mail reply to: W5TFY@amsat.org. DO NOT HIT the "Reply" button, even if incoming mail shows a different "Reply To" address. Do not address to RobertBail@aol.com. THANKS.