A voyage through the Skagerrak. Part 10. A new phase

Back in Sweden.

28 June 2026. We left Fredrikstad for Strömstad. Almost the whole passage was to windward, sailing close-hauled and tacking. There was hardly any sea, and the sun was hot, so despite the wind direction it was a surprisingly comfortable trip.

The fishing gear hadn't gone away. Sometimes we passed four sets in a row, which made it hard to relax: spot one buoy, immediately look for the second, then work out where the net runs between them.

At one point I needed to stand further out to sea to get a better wind angle and stay on one tack for as long as possible. Another yacht was sailing parallel to us, with her mainsail sheeted almost to the centreline and a self-tacking jib.

We overtook her. A little later her skipper tacked, made some distance off and headed back towards the shore. His boat couldn't point as high as Rassvet, so he bore away a little, picked up speed and crossed about fifty metres ahead of our bow.

Then he did it again.

On his third attempt, he tacked and came straight at us.

I'd already got the horn out. The distance was closing, while his intentions were becoming approximately no clearer at all. About fifteen metres away, he finally bore away sharply onto an almost downwind course and passed astern.

That day left me with a few prejudices against self-tacking jibs. Possibly entirely unfair ones. But when tacking every half-hour costs someone no effort, everyone around them has to keep an eye on the consequences.

A new routine

I'd happily have stayed another day in Fredrikstad, where berthing was free, but the forecast promised a sharp deterioration. We planned to spend three nights in Strömstad waiting out the strong winds. I also hoped Sweden might prove a little cheaper after Norway.

But wind wasn't going to be the main challenge over the coming days.

My holiday was over.

The original voyage plan revolved around a fairly dubious experiment. The first two weeks of leave were for getting a long way north. Then I'd work remotely for three weeks, gradually heading back in short hops. After that, another two weeks of leave would allow some proper sailing and a return to Kiel without racing the clock.

Those three weeks were now beginning.

I'd be working from 07:00 to 16:00. Then I could close the laptop, cast off and cover another 10–25 miles to the next harbour. Perhaps not every day: the prospect of ending every working day with a passage for several weeks soon loses some of its romance.

I was a little nervous. Until now the boat had been either transport or somewhere to relax. She was about to become my office too.

Starlink

It was for this part of the voyage that I'd bought Starlink. My unlimited plan cost €99 a month and meant work wouldn't tie me to any particular marina.

Over the following weeks I gathered a few figures:

• downloads were usually 100–150 Mbps;
• uploads around 20 Mbps;
• latency 30–50 ms;
• a full working week used roughly 100 GB of data;
• occasionally the connection froze for two or three seconds;
• two simultaneous video calls could make it struggle, so Nastya and I started comparing our important meeting times beforehand.

Otherwise it worked so well that it soon stopped feeling unusual. In the morning I'd open my laptop in the cockpit or cabin and join work meetings much as I would from home.

I powered it from a 12-volt connection. I saw consumption reach roughly 5 A, making Starlink a significant item in the boat's energy budget. It wasn't something I could simply install and forget, particularly on cloudy days when the solar panels produced less.

We arrived in Strömstad as more than travellers waiting out another storm.

At seven the next morning, I had to be at work.

#passage