In this publication10 photos
5 July 2026.
After our unscheduled return to Malmön, it was time to move on. We were beginning to fall behind schedule, and I really wanted to reach Marstrand, known here as Sweden's sailing capital.
It was about 20 miles by the direct route. The problem was a yellow weather warning and winds of 14–17 m/s.
So instead of going directly, I plotted a route through the inner channels among the skerries. It came to 54 miles.
It was one of those occasions when the track looks absurd on a map, but the passage itself feels almost like a holiday resort. For most of it the wind stayed around 15 knots, rising to 27 just a couple of times. It was behind us, the current added another half-knot or so, and the rocks sheltered us from the open sea.
In Marstrand I had a coffee, climbed up to the fortress and walked the path round the island. On one side lay the quiet marina. On the other, the sea raged where I'd sensibly decided not to go that day.
Everything was looking a little too good.
Back on the boat, I noticed a strong smell of diesel in the saloon.
While we were heeled, water mixed with oil and diesel from beneath the engine had spilled into the space under my berth. Which was, of course, where we kept the tools and drinking water.
Nastya and I spent until one in the morning cleaning the boat with Fairy and toilet paper. The sole, lockers, bottles, tools. There's something particularly delightful about scrubbing diesel off an adjustable spanner instead of having dinner after a 54-mile passage.
The cause was fairly simple. A drain hose ran down from the fridge compartment, and the opening around it hadn't been properly sealed. Normally the water ran downwards. With a good heel on, the system discovered it could work in reverse.
Once we'd finished cleaning, I sealed the gap around the hose.
The next day it became clear why we'd needed those 54 miles. Gusts of up to 45 knots were forecast offshore, and even inside the marina I saw 31. Waves formed between the pontoons.
While we were sitting inside, Grigory sent a photograph of a navigation warning from his NAVTEX: interference with GNSS, AIS, RADAR and DGPS had been observed in the Baltic.
At this rate, it looks as though we'll soon be back to navigating with paper charts and an ordinary compass.
Over those couple of stormy days I developed a ritual: go to a café, order coffee and a bun with blåbär, sit by the window and watch the wind whip the sea like cream.
#passage
After our unscheduled return to Malmön, it was time to move on. We were beginning to fall behind schedule, and I really wanted to reach Marstrand, known here as Sweden's sailing capital.
It was about 20 miles by the direct route. The problem was a yellow weather warning and winds of 14–17 m/s.
So instead of going directly, I plotted a route through the inner channels among the skerries. It came to 54 miles.
It was one of those occasions when the track looks absurd on a map, but the passage itself feels almost like a holiday resort. For most of it the wind stayed around 15 knots, rising to 27 just a couple of times. It was behind us, the current added another half-knot or so, and the rocks sheltered us from the open sea.
In Marstrand I had a coffee, climbed up to the fortress and walked the path round the island. On one side lay the quiet marina. On the other, the sea raged where I'd sensibly decided not to go that day.
Everything was looking a little too good.
Back on the boat, I noticed a strong smell of diesel in the saloon.
While we were heeled, water mixed with oil and diesel from beneath the engine had spilled into the space under my berth. Which was, of course, where we kept the tools and drinking water.
Nastya and I spent until one in the morning cleaning the boat with Fairy and toilet paper. The sole, lockers, bottles, tools. There's something particularly delightful about scrubbing diesel off an adjustable spanner instead of having dinner after a 54-mile passage.
The cause was fairly simple. A drain hose ran down from the fridge compartment, and the opening around it hadn't been properly sealed. Normally the water ran downwards. With a good heel on, the system discovered it could work in reverse.
Once we'd finished cleaning, I sealed the gap around the hose.
The next day it became clear why we'd needed those 54 miles. Gusts of up to 45 knots were forecast offshore, and even inside the marina I saw 31. Waves formed between the pontoons.
While we were sitting inside, Grigory sent a photograph of a navigation warning from his NAVTEX: interference with GNSS, AIS, RADAR and DGPS had been observed in the Baltic.
At this rate, it looks as though we'll soon be back to navigating with paper charts and an ordinary compass.
Over those couple of stormy days I developed a ritual: go to a café, order coffee and a bun with blåbär, sit by the window and watch the wind whip the sea like cream.
#passage
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