The passage
Lübeck - Barhoeft
21 April 2024. After two and a half months without a day off — coding by day, painting at weekends — I finally exhaled. Three days sleeping aboard brought me round. Lübeck behind me, north-east towards Christiansø and Bornholm. For the first leg, I hoped to reach at least Rügen. Ports of refuge • First outing of the season: anything could happen. Nearby shelter in Lübeck Bay: Travemünde, seven miles, and Grömitz twenty miles.
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The way to Bornholm. Part 1. Lübeck – Barhöft
21 April 2024. After two and a half months without a day off — coding by day, painting at weekends — I finally exhaled. Three days sleeping aboard brought me round. Lübeck behind me, north-east towards Christiansø and Bornholm. For the first leg, I hoped to reach at least Rügen.
Ports of refuge
• First outing of the season: anything could happen. Nearby shelter in Lübeck Bay: Travemünde, seven miles, and Grömitz twenty miles.
• Wismar Bay — twenty-five miles, six to nine hours, with several suitable marinas.
• Then Kühlungsborn, 35 miles, and Warnemünde, 45. In theory, Gedser was possible at 55 miles, but required crossing a traffic separation scheme, TSS.
• Then a long stretch without shelter: only Prerow at mile seventy.
• Final destination: Barhöft, 98 miles.
At an average 4.5 knots, twenty to twenty-two hours.
Weather
The red Windy forecast three to eleven knots of headwind.
Motoring, then: to maintain the planned speed under sail, I’d need at least fifteen knots abeam or aft.
The passage
Quiet going. Followed my Navionics route; tried Savvy Navvy but didn’t take to it. Swans by the shore, gulls offshore. Near Wismar, porpoises escorted me for a couple of minutes — like small dolphins. A good sign. Reading, tea, simply being there.
I used to add a little alcohol to the stove for each boil. Now half a bottle: less fuss. Convenient.
Cold after sunset. Seven layers, warmers, sleeping bag in the cockpit. Bearable, but getting out of that cocoon was a challenge. Does proper thermal underwear for this exist?
After ten, I began dozing: an alarm every twenty minutes to check course and surroundings, sometimes more often. You never know whether the autopilot will fail or another boat will approach with its skipper asleep too. Saw a shooting star.
Light from four. Fog and drizzle in patches, condensation everywhere. A fantastic dawn, though.
Reached Rügen at seven: a protected island with narrow fairways and surrounding shoals. Hard to concentrate, with birds and scenery everywhere. I wanted to stay the whole holiday.
Aground
Near the marina, I felt uneasy: fenders still not down. I stopped two hundred metres out and went forward to prepare. The wind carried us outside the fairway. I’d just turned towards the nearest buoy when the stern jumped and the boat stopped. Aground.
Reverse: nothing. Rocking, setting sail: nothing. Firmly stuck. I called the harbourmaster. He’d already seen me and called the rescue service.
A small launch came off a larger rescue boat, two people aboard. Politely but firmly, they asked me to fill in a form first. Then gave me a line to secure at the bow. A couple of minutes later, back in the fairway.
Total
Covered 98 miles in twenty-two hours, using 23 litres of diesel.
#passage
21 April 2024. After two and a half months without a day off — coding by day, painting at weekends — I finally exhaled. Three days sleeping aboard brought me round. Lübeck behind me, north-east towards Christiansø and Bornholm. For the first leg, I hoped to reach at least Rügen.
Ports of refuge
• First outing of the season: anything could happen. Nearby shelter in Lübeck Bay: Travemünde, seven miles, and Grömitz twenty miles.
• Wismar Bay — twenty-five miles, six to nine hours, with several suitable marinas.
• Then Kühlungsborn, 35 miles, and Warnemünde, 45. In theory, Gedser was possible at 55 miles, but required crossing a traffic separation scheme, TSS.
• Then a long stretch without shelter: only Prerow at mile seventy.
• Final destination: Barhöft, 98 miles.
At an average 4.5 knots, twenty to twenty-two hours.
Weather
The red Windy forecast three to eleven knots of headwind.
Shipping Forecast
, 21.04.2025, 09:36 UTC
No warnings
Western Baltic: light and variable winds, at times misty with fog patches, later locally thunderstorms, sea below 0.5 meter.
Motoring, then: to maintain the planned speed under sail, I’d need at least fifteen knots abeam or aft.
The passage
Quiet going. Followed my Navionics route; tried Savvy Navvy but didn’t take to it. Swans by the shore, gulls offshore. Near Wismar, porpoises escorted me for a couple of minutes — like small dolphins. A good sign. Reading, tea, simply being there.
I used to add a little alcohol to the stove for each boil. Now half a bottle: less fuss. Convenient.
Cold after sunset. Seven layers, warmers, sleeping bag in the cockpit. Bearable, but getting out of that cocoon was a challenge. Does proper thermal underwear for this exist?
After ten, I began dozing: an alarm every twenty minutes to check course and surroundings, sometimes more often. You never know whether the autopilot will fail or another boat will approach with its skipper asleep too. Saw a shooting star.
Light from four. Fog and drizzle in patches, condensation everywhere. A fantastic dawn, though.
Reached Rügen at seven: a protected island with narrow fairways and surrounding shoals. Hard to concentrate, with birds and scenery everywhere. I wanted to stay the whole holiday.
Aground
Near the marina, I felt uneasy: fenders still not down. I stopped two hundred metres out and went forward to prepare. The wind carried us outside the fairway. I’d just turned towards the nearest buoy when the stern jumped and the boat stopped. Aground.
Reverse: nothing. Rocking, setting sail: nothing. Firmly stuck. I called the harbourmaster. He’d already seen me and called the rescue service.
A small launch came off a larger rescue boat, two people aboard. Politely but firmly, they asked me to fill in a form first. Then gave me a line to secure at the bow. A couple of minutes later, back in the fairway.
Total
Covered 98 miles in twenty-two hours, using 23 litres of diesel.
#passage
Passage weather
Stopover
Pause in Barhoeft
22 April 2024. First, alongside at the diesel berth: refuel, sort out payment for the ‘rescue’, and find a berth for the night. Almost empty, any berth available. Two arrangements: alongside finger pontoons or bow-to with the stern on a buoy. After my epic circling round buoys a couple of years ago, an obvious choice. A Search and Rescue boat lay alongside.
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The way to Bornholm. Part 2. Barhöft
Practicalities
22 April 2024. First, alongside at the diesel berth: refuel, sort out payment for the ‘rescue’, and find a berth for the night.
Almost empty, any berth available. Two arrangements: alongside finger pontoons or bow-to with the stern on a buoy. After my epic circling round buoys a couple of years ago, an obvious choice.
A Search and Rescue boat lay alongside. I went aboard, found the crew and asked the price of their help. €200 an hour; good news, they’d spent less than half an hour on me. Papers would go to the Bremen office, with an invoice by post.
Then the harbourmaster, a young man with no English. My broken German, gestures and familiar English words sufficed. He switched on the fuel pump and waited while I filled tank and cans. Diesel €2.20 a litre, no biofuel. I still added 25ml of Liqui Moly Marine Diesel Protection as a precaution.
Berthing: €15.50 for under nine metres, plus €4 per person. Another €20 deposit for the facilities card. Surprisingly, free unlimited showers. Rare in Germany.
Fish
On the way back, a fishing boat berthed and unloaded baskets of fresh fish and ice. Had I waited aground for them, might the tow have been cheaper? I thought of buying fish for soup, but exhaustion won. Bed.
Woke a couple of hours later to a delicious smell on the pier: the fishermen were smoking their remaining catch. An enormous garfish — or needlefish — cost only €4. Too much for one person, yet they added three pieces of another fish free. I sat by the water. Bony, tangy fish, with green bones: never seen that, especially at this price.
Around the village
After lunch, exploring east: a beach and a ‘Caution: wild area’ sign. Little to do.
Cosy village: a dozen houses, restaurant, café, a couple of hotels and a campsite. Like a Soviet holiday camp.
West was better. A well-kept path, flowering wild plums on both sides, sweet-smelling air. A strange buzzing everywhere, as though from the ground. Past a viewing deck over a lake, a closed museum and a €1 tower. From the tower, I understood: dense swarms of midges over every tree and bush, black tongues of flame dancing in the air. Frighteningly beautiful.
The field
A fork by a field. One sign back to the marina, another towards a ‘sight’. I continued. Bushes, then clouds of mosquitoes at head height. Doubts, then I crouched and ran. Midges in hair, eyes and collar.
At the end: a second viewing deck over the lake and three more black clouds. That was it. Dead end. A field probably full of ticks, midges behind, nowhere ahead. Trapped.
Back at the marina, a shower, then evening on the beach, watching a rainbow over the sea.
#passage
Practicalities
22 April 2024. First, alongside at the diesel berth: refuel, sort out payment for the ‘rescue’, and find a berth for the night.
Almost empty, any berth available. Two arrangements: alongside finger pontoons or bow-to with the stern on a buoy. After my epic circling round buoys a couple of years ago, an obvious choice.
A Search and Rescue boat lay alongside. I went aboard, found the crew and asked the price of their help. €200 an hour; good news, they’d spent less than half an hour on me. Papers would go to the Bremen office, with an invoice by post.
Then the harbourmaster, a young man with no English. My broken German, gestures and familiar English words sufficed. He switched on the fuel pump and waited while I filled tank and cans. Diesel €2.20 a litre, no biofuel. I still added 25ml of Liqui Moly Marine Diesel Protection as a precaution.
Berthing: €15.50 for under nine metres, plus €4 per person. Another €20 deposit for the facilities card. Surprisingly, free unlimited showers. Rare in Germany.
Fish
On the way back, a fishing boat berthed and unloaded baskets of fresh fish and ice. Had I waited aground for them, might the tow have been cheaper? I thought of buying fish for soup, but exhaustion won. Bed.
Woke a couple of hours later to a delicious smell on the pier: the fishermen were smoking their remaining catch. An enormous garfish — or needlefish — cost only €4. Too much for one person, yet they added three pieces of another fish free. I sat by the water. Bony, tangy fish, with green bones: never seen that, especially at this price.
Around the village
After lunch, exploring east: a beach and a ‘Caution: wild area’ sign. Little to do.
Cosy village: a dozen houses, restaurant, café, a couple of hotels and a campsite. Like a Soviet holiday camp.
West was better. A well-kept path, flowering wild plums on both sides, sweet-smelling air. A strange buzzing everywhere, as though from the ground. Past a viewing deck over a lake, a closed museum and a €1 tower. From the tower, I understood: dense swarms of midges over every tree and bush, black tongues of flame dancing in the air. Frighteningly beautiful.
The field
A fork by a field. One sign back to the marina, another towards a ‘sight’. I continued. Bushes, then clouds of mosquitoes at head height. Doubts, then I crouched and ran. Midges in hair, eyes and collar.
At the end: a second viewing deck over the lake and three more black clouds. That was it. Dead end. A field probably full of ticks, midges behind, nowhere ahead. Trapped.
Back at the marina, a shower, then evening on the beach, watching a rainbow over the sea.
#passage
The passage
Across the Baltic to Roenne
23 April 2024. Breakfast: four eggs, cured ham, vegetables, two rolls and coffee, €10 at the marina café. Phone out, passage planning. North-east towards Rønne. The only fallback would be anchoring off Rügen. Several wind farms en route; I chose to pass north of them, safer that way. Shipping Forecast, 23.04.2025, 10:11 UTC No warnings Southern Baltic: light and variable winds, later northeast 4–5, at times misty with fog patches, sea later 1 meter.
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The way to Bornholm. Part 3. Barhöft – Rønne
Planning
23 April 2024. Breakfast: four eggs, cured ham, vegetables, two rolls and coffee, €10 at the marina café. Phone out, passage planning.
North-east towards Rønne. The only fallback would be anchoring off Rügen. Several wind farms en route; I chose to pass north of them, safer that way.
Windy showed five to eight knots abeam early, then calm beneath a high. Around 75 miles to Rønne. To do it in under twenty hours, the engine would need to run almost throughout.
Departure
After grounding, extra care: centre of the fairway throughout. GPS speed reached six knots, a current unusual for the Baltic. Only my second such experience after Fehmarn.
Soon, a grey fog wall. Nowhere to retreat; I entered, and it closed round me. Wind completely gone. Without a little swell from far away, the sea would have been a mirror. Three such patches, two hours in each.
Around halfway, the current turned against me. GPS speed fell to four knots; the log still read 4.9. Setting sail compensated a little.
The drone
In one foggy calm, I launched my old DJI Mini SE for a few shots of set sails on endless water. All fine until it suddenly stopped moving. Camera and rotation worked; the drone itself stayed still. The yacht went ahead, leaving it behind. Phone signal weakening, battery draining. Fifteen minutes’ flying time left. Panic.
Eased sails, engine on, turned back. Used the camera image to find it. A careful approach, avoiding mast and backstay. Reverse, closer, grabbed its body.
It thrashed in my hand, trying to escape. One hand held it while the other pushed the sticks down. The blades caught my fingers twice, spraying blood round the cockpit. Plasters, alcohol, drone off and folded away. Shots secured, hands shaking.
The passage
The wind turbines looked extraordinary in fog, impossibly tall, almost alien. Sunset enjoyed, seven layers on, interval sleep. Rønne was still hours into the night; I needed rest.
Awake at midnight. Container ships on AIS. Two green lights showed the marina entrance. Total darkness, rocks nearby, a winding, unfriendly approach. Made it through. No alternatives anyway.
The result
Covered 76 miles in sixteen hours, using fifteen litres of diesel.
#passage
Planning
23 April 2024. Breakfast: four eggs, cured ham, vegetables, two rolls and coffee, €10 at the marina café. Phone out, passage planning.
North-east towards Rønne. The only fallback would be anchoring off Rügen. Several wind farms en route; I chose to pass north of them, safer that way.
Shipping Forecast
, 23.04.2025, 10:11 UTC
No warnings
Southern Baltic: light and variable winds, later northeast 4–5, at times misty with fog patches, sea later 1 meter.
Windy showed five to eight knots abeam early, then calm beneath a high. Around 75 miles to Rønne. To do it in under twenty hours, the engine would need to run almost throughout.
Departure
After grounding, extra care: centre of the fairway throughout. GPS speed reached six knots, a current unusual for the Baltic. Only my second such experience after Fehmarn.
Soon, a grey fog wall. Nowhere to retreat; I entered, and it closed round me. Wind completely gone. Without a little swell from far away, the sea would have been a mirror. Three such patches, two hours in each.
Around halfway, the current turned against me. GPS speed fell to four knots; the log still read 4.9. Setting sail compensated a little.
The drone
In one foggy calm, I launched my old DJI Mini SE for a few shots of set sails on endless water. All fine until it suddenly stopped moving. Camera and rotation worked; the drone itself stayed still. The yacht went ahead, leaving it behind. Phone signal weakening, battery draining. Fifteen minutes’ flying time left. Panic.
Eased sails, engine on, turned back. Used the camera image to find it. A careful approach, avoiding mast and backstay. Reverse, closer, grabbed its body.
It thrashed in my hand, trying to escape. One hand held it while the other pushed the sticks down. The blades caught my fingers twice, spraying blood round the cockpit. Plasters, alcohol, drone off and folded away. Shots secured, hands shaking.
The passage
The wind turbines looked extraordinary in fog, impossibly tall, almost alien. Sunset enjoyed, seven layers on, interval sleep. Rønne was still hours into the night; I needed rest.
Awake at midnight. Container ships on AIS. Two green lights showed the marina entrance. Total darkness, rocks nearby, a winding, unfriendly approach. Made it through. No alternatives anyway.
The result
Covered 76 miles in sixteen hours, using fifteen litres of diesel.
#passage
Passage weather
Stopover
Island day in Rønne
24–25 April 2024. Around two in the morning, I berthed at a finger pontoon and connected power. Straight off to inspect the facilities. Spotted a diesel tank and self-service terminal; later returned with cans. €80 deposit, 16.29 DKK per litre. Deposit back almost immediately. Marina payment at a machine too. All the island’s harbours share a network: pay for one and choose others ahead. More than five days in total earns free nights. Two days cost 532 kroner.
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The way to Bornholm. Part 4. Rønne
Practicalities
24–25 April 2024. Around two in the morning, I berthed at a finger pontoon and connected power. Straight off to inspect the facilities. Spotted a diesel tank and self-service terminal; later returned with cans. €80 deposit, 16.29 DKK per litre. Deposit back almost immediately.
Marina payment at a machine too. All the island’s harbours share a network: pay for one and choose others ahead. More than five days in total earns free nights. Two days cost 532 kroner. A sticker gave shower and toilet codes. Unlimited showers, particularly welcome.
After a shower, straight to sleep.
The beach
Before the holiday, my friend Denis suggested contacting a sailing family who’d lived here for years. He gave me Anna’s details. We messaged, and she recommended places in Rønne.
I began northwards, through a park to a broad, deserted beach. Cloudy and windy. Shoes off, jeans rolled, bare feet on cool sand. Without sun, time lost its meaning. Just walking silently, lost in thought. Perfect for being alone with yourself. I took a stone with rusty-orange staining.
The museum
I love museums, so couldn’t miss the town’s. Three floors surprised me: Viking artefacts, the story of local troll Krølle Bølle, a mischievous fairy-tale boy. A room on Soviet occupation of the island. Even handwriting exercise books suspiciously like my school ones. Worth visiting.
The town
Rønne is Bornholm’s largest town, but walkable in a couple of hours. Neat houses, tiled roofs, cobbles. I wanted coffee and a croissant. The barista’s coffee smelled so good I asked the variety: BAYA 100% Arabica, with chocolate notes. Remember that.
Plenty of cafés and restaurants on the main street. A recommended stop at Aroy Dee Thai Takeaway: quick and tasty.
Wandered, photographed myself by two lighthouses near the commercial port. A shopping centre near the marina is handy for food and clothes. I tried to buy local products. Buses run only four to six times a day; watch the timetable unless you fancy sleeping at a stop.
Back aboard, I found the middle stanchion torn out. Apparently, the fenders had rubbed the quay too enthusiastically.
Visitors
Anna came with her friend Yulia that evening. Long conversations about sailing, living abroad and favourite island spots. They gave me postcards of Christiansø, where Anna had lived for years. Each was a little quest: find this and see it yourself. Warm and heartfelt. I wanted at least a week here. Two days are far too few.
#passage
Practicalities
24–25 April 2024. Around two in the morning, I berthed at a finger pontoon and connected power. Straight off to inspect the facilities. Spotted a diesel tank and self-service terminal; later returned with cans. €80 deposit, 16.29 DKK per litre. Deposit back almost immediately.
Marina payment at a machine too. All the island’s harbours share a network: pay for one and choose others ahead. More than five days in total earns free nights. Two days cost 532 kroner. A sticker gave shower and toilet codes. Unlimited showers, particularly welcome.
After a shower, straight to sleep.
The beach
Before the holiday, my friend Denis suggested contacting a sailing family who’d lived here for years. He gave me Anna’s details. We messaged, and she recommended places in Rønne.
I began northwards, through a park to a broad, deserted beach. Cloudy and windy. Shoes off, jeans rolled, bare feet on cool sand. Without sun, time lost its meaning. Just walking silently, lost in thought. Perfect for being alone with yourself. I took a stone with rusty-orange staining.
The museum
I love museums, so couldn’t miss the town’s. Three floors surprised me: Viking artefacts, the story of local troll Krølle Bølle, a mischievous fairy-tale boy. A room on Soviet occupation of the island. Even handwriting exercise books suspiciously like my school ones. Worth visiting.
The town
Rønne is Bornholm’s largest town, but walkable in a couple of hours. Neat houses, tiled roofs, cobbles. I wanted coffee and a croissant. The barista’s coffee smelled so good I asked the variety: BAYA 100% Arabica, with chocolate notes. Remember that.
Plenty of cafés and restaurants on the main street. A recommended stop at Aroy Dee Thai Takeaway: quick and tasty.
Wandered, photographed myself by two lighthouses near the commercial port. A shopping centre near the marina is handy for food and clothes. I tried to buy local products. Buses run only four to six times a day; watch the timetable unless you fancy sleeping at a stop.
Back aboard, I found the middle stanchion torn out. Apparently, the fenders had rubbed the quay too enthusiastically.
Visitors
Anna came with her friend Yulia that evening. Long conversations about sailing, living abroad and favourite island spots. They gave me postcards of Christiansø, where Anna had lived for years. Each was a little quest: find this and see it yourself. Warm and heartfelt. I wanted at least a week here. Two days are far too few.
#passage
The passage
Little Christianso
26 April 2024. Leaving Rønne with a heavy heart. I wanted to stay and uncover more of its mysteries. Originally, round Bornholm’s south, returning via the north. Anna and Yulia persuaded me otherwise: along the rocky north, with lighthouse, cliffs and Hammershus, one of Scandinavia’s oldest surviving castles. High pressure forecast between the islands. Hardly any wind. Motoring again.
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The way to Bornholm. Part 5. Christiansø
Rønne–Christiansø passage
26 April 2024. Leaving Rønne with a heavy heart. I wanted to stay and uncover more of its mysteries. Originally, round Bornholm’s south, returning via the north. Anna and Yulia persuaded me otherwise: along the rocky north, with lighthouse, cliffs and Hammershus, one of Scandinavia’s oldest surviving castles.
High pressure forecast between the islands. Hardly any wind. Motoring again.
A quiet passage. No regrets about the northern route: calm sea, clear sky, scenery from an old book. Covered 28 miles in six hours, using six litres of diesel.
Practicalities
Christiansø consists of two islands linked by a 150-year-old suspension bridge. Harbour entry from the south only. Room for four or five boats along the east side. One power point near the bridge: arrive later, bring a long cable.
Pay by QR code. Boats under ten metres: 220 DKK a night. Free toilets, coin-operated showers. Berthed around two and went exploring.
The island
Christiansø was a fairy tale. Breathless with feeling. Stone fortifications, old tiled houses with black attics, ducks and gulls nesting right beside the paths, greenery, rocks and sea. Like scenes from Alba where a girl photographs island wildlife.
I sat on a bench on the eastern shore. Surf breaking on rocks, gull calls carried on the wind. I wanted to keep that moment forever. Out came the postcards; I began finding their views. A quiet, personal adventure.
Shops open for only a couple of hours, roughly eleven to one. No lighthouse climb: restoration until mid-June. But the restaurant opened at 5.30 for precisely one hour. Simple menu: boiled potatoes with hollandaise, beetroot cubes and crisp pork belly. Vivid, rich, beautifully balanced flavours.
Next steps
The farthest point of my route. I wanted at least another couple of days. But a prolonged storm, gusting fifty knots, was due in four days. Getting back to Kiel would be hard, about two hundred miles. Tomorrow promised sailing wind; after that, headwinds again. Morning departure, then.
One last island walk. The eiders’ strange gulping calls made me smile. A yellow rubber duck tied to the pier. A fiery sunset turning the village gold.
A place to return to.
#passage
Rønne–Christiansø passage
26 April 2024. Leaving Rønne with a heavy heart. I wanted to stay and uncover more of its mysteries. Originally, round Bornholm’s south, returning via the north. Anna and Yulia persuaded me otherwise: along the rocky north, with lighthouse, cliffs and Hammershus, one of Scandinavia’s oldest surviving castles.
High pressure forecast between the islands. Hardly any wind. Motoring again.
Shipping Forecast
, 26.04.2025, 15.26 UTC
No warnings
Southern Baltic: variable winds about 3, at times fog patches, sea 0.5 meter.
A quiet passage. No regrets about the northern route: calm sea, clear sky, scenery from an old book. Covered 28 miles in six hours, using six litres of diesel.
Practicalities
Christiansø consists of two islands linked by a 150-year-old suspension bridge. Harbour entry from the south only. Room for four or five boats along the east side. One power point near the bridge: arrive later, bring a long cable.
Pay by QR code. Boats under ten metres: 220 DKK a night. Free toilets, coin-operated showers. Berthed around two and went exploring.
The island
Christiansø was a fairy tale. Breathless with feeling. Stone fortifications, old tiled houses with black attics, ducks and gulls nesting right beside the paths, greenery, rocks and sea. Like scenes from Alba where a girl photographs island wildlife.
I sat on a bench on the eastern shore. Surf breaking on rocks, gull calls carried on the wind. I wanted to keep that moment forever. Out came the postcards; I began finding their views. A quiet, personal adventure.
Shops open for only a couple of hours, roughly eleven to one. No lighthouse climb: restoration until mid-June. But the restaurant opened at 5.30 for precisely one hour. Simple menu: boiled potatoes with hollandaise, beetroot cubes and crisp pork belly. Vivid, rich, beautifully balanced flavours.
Next steps
The farthest point of my route. I wanted at least another couple of days. But a prolonged storm, gusting fifty knots, was due in four days. Getting back to Kiel would be hard, about two hundred miles. Tomorrow promised sailing wind; after that, headwinds again. Morning departure, then.
One last island walk. The eiders’ strange gulping calls made me smile. A yellow rubber duck tied to the pier. A fiery sunset turning the village gold.
A place to return to.
#passage
Passage weather
The passage
Kristiansø - Gedser
27 April 2024. Awake at five. Washed, breakfast, weather check, route adjustments. Shipping Forecast, 27.04.2025, 09.26 UTC No warnings Southern Baltic: southeasterly winds about 3, shifting southwest, increasing 4 to 5, sea northeastern part later 1,5 meter. Weather allowed sailing. No going far north: a commercial TSS. Wind farms to the south. A strict course, whatever the wind direction. The only day of easterlies; make the most of it. Destination: Gedser.
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The way to Bornholm. Part 6. Christiansø — Gedser
Planning
27 April 2024. Awake at five. Washed, breakfast, weather check, route adjustments.
Weather allowed sailing. No going far north: a commercial TSS. Wind farms to the south. A strict course, whatever the wind direction. The only day of easterlies; make the most of it. Destination: Gedser.
A rough start
Left Christiansø at 6.30. Southerly wind. Fine to Bornholm’s northern tip, then south-westerly as soon as I rounded. Apparently bent round the island. Main and genoa flapped. Sails away, engine on. Four to five knots. By my calculations, sailing again in four hours.
But the wind increased to seventeen knots, waves to 1.5m, speed down to two or three. Waves hit the bow, rolling and stopping us. Seasickness began. Deep breaths, eyes on the horizon, then below for tablets. All I could do was hold on. So I did.
When the wind moved farther south, sails up again. Five to six knots. The yacht cut through waves more easily, heeled steadily. I felt better.
Night watch
Dark after nine. Interval sleep. Anna’s stories had shown me I needn’t sleep in the cockpit. Wallas heater on, bed in the saloon, timer set. I judged the middle of the Baltic alongside a TSS reasonably safe. Every thirty minutes: up, check horizon, course, AIS, back down.
Until one in the morning. Another check. Straight ahead, less than a kilometre away, a cargo ship crossing with her port side towards me. An icy wave through my body. We were clearing each other, but I should have seen her sooner. Back to twenty-minute intervals. Harder to sleep.
Crossing the TSS
At three, I reached the separation scheme. About twenty ships on AIS, perhaps more outside reception range. Nine to fifteen knots. Four miles across. I held the eastern edge and waited for a gap.
A gap appeared; I crossed. Half an hour later, in the middle, AIS showed encounters with five ships. Quickly furled, engine on, revs down. Let everyone pass, then sails up again.
Gedser
At seven, Gedser. Empty marina. Berthing between piles was welcome: they keep the boat clear of pier and neighbours. Previous alongside stops had cost a stanchion, a fender and black tyre marks on the hull.
245 DKK a night, showers extra. Twenty-four litres of diesel at 15.75 DKK. An unpleasant €300 card deposit took four days to return. A walk and provisions. Gedser seemed deserted: empty streets and silence. Sat in the park with cold coffee, then back to the marina.
Covered 130 miles in twenty-four hours.
#passage
Planning
27 April 2024. Awake at five. Washed, breakfast, weather check, route adjustments.
Shipping Forecast,
27.04.2025, 09.26 UTC
No warnings
Southern Baltic: southeasterly winds about 3, shifting southwest, increasing 4 to 5, sea northeastern part later 1,5 meter.
Weather allowed sailing. No going far north: a commercial TSS. Wind farms to the south. A strict course, whatever the wind direction. The only day of easterlies; make the most of it. Destination: Gedser.
A rough start
Left Christiansø at 6.30. Southerly wind. Fine to Bornholm’s northern tip, then south-westerly as soon as I rounded. Apparently bent round the island. Main and genoa flapped. Sails away, engine on. Four to five knots. By my calculations, sailing again in four hours.
But the wind increased to seventeen knots, waves to 1.5m, speed down to two or three. Waves hit the bow, rolling and stopping us. Seasickness began. Deep breaths, eyes on the horizon, then below for tablets. All I could do was hold on. So I did.
When the wind moved farther south, sails up again. Five to six knots. The yacht cut through waves more easily, heeled steadily. I felt better.
Night watch
Dark after nine. Interval sleep. Anna’s stories had shown me I needn’t sleep in the cockpit. Wallas heater on, bed in the saloon, timer set. I judged the middle of the Baltic alongside a TSS reasonably safe. Every thirty minutes: up, check horizon, course, AIS, back down.
Until one in the morning. Another check. Straight ahead, less than a kilometre away, a cargo ship crossing with her port side towards me. An icy wave through my body. We were clearing each other, but I should have seen her sooner. Back to twenty-minute intervals. Harder to sleep.
Crossing the TSS
At three, I reached the separation scheme. About twenty ships on AIS, perhaps more outside reception range. Nine to fifteen knots. Four miles across. I held the eastern edge and waited for a gap.
A gap appeared; I crossed. Half an hour later, in the middle, AIS showed encounters with five ships. Quickly furled, engine on, revs down. Let everyone pass, then sails up again.
Gedser
At seven, Gedser. Empty marina. Berthing between piles was welcome: they keep the boat clear of pier and neighbours. Previous alongside stops had cost a stanchion, a fender and black tyre marks on the hull.
245 DKK a night, showers extra. Twenty-four litres of diesel at 15.75 DKK. An unpleasant €300 card deposit took four days to return. A walk and provisions. Gedser seemed deserted: empty streets and silence. Sat in the park with cold coffee, then back to the marina.
Covered 130 miles in twenty-four hours.
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Passage weather
The passage
To Heiligenhafen
28 April 2024. Up at five. Windy promised eleven to seventeen knots westerly. I needed south-west, close-hauled. Fehmarn seemed possible. Savvy Navvy suggested wind farms and a shoal for some reason; I chose a direct route without that risk. Shipping Forecast, 28.04.2025, 10.36 UTC No warnings Western Baltic: light and variable winds, shifting west to northwest 3 to 4, for a time locally misty, sea 0,5 meter. The passage Sunny, quiet morning.
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The way to Bornholm. Part 7. Gedser — Heiligenhafen
Planning
28 April 2024. Up at five. Windy promised eleven to seventeen knots westerly. I needed south-west, close-hauled. Fehmarn seemed possible. Savvy Navvy suggested wind farms and a shoal for some reason; I chose a direct route without that risk.
The passage
Sunny, quiet morning. Full sail, boat pressing into the wind, warmth on my face. Close-hauled, taking everything the breeze offered.
A little nervous crossing the TSS, but uneventful. Peaceful sea. Then a familiar ‘pffft’, as though someone exhaled beside me. I turned and couldn’t believe it.
Six porpoises, quick finned shadows, surfaced, leapt and slid along the hull. I went forward: some jumped straight before the stem. Joy flared inside. They stayed over an hour, as though sending me off with fresh energy for the final stretch.
Level with the island, the wind headed me completely. Sails down, engine on. Minutes later, the autopilot died: no signal, no response. Back to the tiller, with hours still ahead. I was mentally pricing a replacement when, ten minutes later, it came back to life. Never found out why.
Near the bridge from the mainland to Fehmarn, I watched an enormous crane slowly being lowered into the water from a barge. A feeling of returning: familiar shores again.
Heiligenhafen
The largest marina I’d ever seen: a thousand berths. I moored between piles at a green vacancy sign. A QR code at the pier end: €20 a night. Paid showers, familiar by now.
Lovely to be back in Germany. Familiar architecture, ways of life, language. An unexpectedly cosy historic resort town, with beach, cafés and restaurants. A leisurely waterfront walk, the centre, a burger at a local bar. Everything invited rest. An unexpected, excellent stop. Heartily recommended.
Covered forty miles in nine hours.
#passage
Planning
28 April 2024. Up at five. Windy promised eleven to seventeen knots westerly. I needed south-west, close-hauled. Fehmarn seemed possible. Savvy Navvy suggested wind farms and a shoal for some reason; I chose a direct route without that risk.
Shipping Forecast
, 28.04.2025, 10.36 UTC
No warnings
Western Baltic: light and variable winds, shifting west to northwest 3 to 4, for a time locally misty, sea 0,5 meter.
The passage
Sunny, quiet morning. Full sail, boat pressing into the wind, warmth on my face. Close-hauled, taking everything the breeze offered.
A little nervous crossing the TSS, but uneventful. Peaceful sea. Then a familiar ‘pffft’, as though someone exhaled beside me. I turned and couldn’t believe it.
Six porpoises, quick finned shadows, surfaced, leapt and slid along the hull. I went forward: some jumped straight before the stem. Joy flared inside. They stayed over an hour, as though sending me off with fresh energy for the final stretch.
Level with the island, the wind headed me completely. Sails down, engine on. Minutes later, the autopilot died: no signal, no response. Back to the tiller, with hours still ahead. I was mentally pricing a replacement when, ten minutes later, it came back to life. Never found out why.
Near the bridge from the mainland to Fehmarn, I watched an enormous crane slowly being lowered into the water from a barge. A feeling of returning: familiar shores again.
Heiligenhafen
The largest marina I’d ever seen: a thousand berths. I moored between piles at a green vacancy sign. A QR code at the pier end: €20 a night. Paid showers, familiar by now.
Lovely to be back in Germany. Familiar architecture, ways of life, language. An unexpectedly cosy historic resort town, with beach, cafés and restaurants. A leisurely waterfront walk, the centre, a burger at a local bar. Everything invited rest. An unexpected, excellent stop. Heartily recommended.
Covered forty miles in nine hours.
#passage
Passage weather
The passage
Last passage: Kiel
29 April 2024. Thick morning fog, visibility about five hundred metres. Fresh roll and coffee from Junge bakery, then the forecast. Shipping Forecast, 29.04.2025, 10.51 UTC No warnings Western Baltic: westerly winds 3 to 4, western part for a time light and variable winds, at times misty with fog patches, sea 0,5 meter. Windy showed up to eleven knots before noon, then five. The fog stayed. I might wait all day, so decided to leave. Navigating in fog Out at nine.
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The way to Bornholm. Part 8. Heiligenhafen — Kiel
Planning
29 April 2024. Thick morning fog, visibility about five hundred metres. Fresh roll and coffee from Junge bakery, then the forecast.
Windy showed up to eleven knots before noon, then five. The fog stayed. I might wait all day, so decided to leave.
Navigating in fog
Out at nine. Anxious: visibility left little time to manoeuvre if something appeared. However long I travelled, the view never changed. AIS alone was my eyes.
I’d planned to motor, but seventeen knots and waves met me outside. Sails up instead. A couple of hours later, clear of the island. Ahead lay the Todendorf military exercise area between Fehmarn and Kiel Bay. A patrol vessel on AIS. Exercises underway.
Wind ahead, so tacking west, north, west again. Approaching the exercise boundary, the radio said: "Rassvet .... sechs". I tensed. Not sure it was me, but sat by the radio. Minutes later, the voice repeated: ‘Rassvet, Rassvet, [German phrase], null null sechs’, and my heart accelerated. I understood: steer zero-zero-six degrees, north away from the area. Turned immediately.
Returning
Fog still over the water. Yacht silhouettes appeared in the milky haze, without AIS. I can’t understand going out like this without something to make yourself visible.
After one, fog began lifting and wind died. Sails furled, engine on. Slowly, clear sky and bright sunshine.
Around five, Laboe’s naval memorial appeared on the horizon. A warm, almost home-like feeling. These two weeks felt an eternity: events, emotions, decisions, solitude, beauty. Now familiar land. I was back.
By seven, berthed in my new Dietrichsdorf spot. Packed and went home. A wonderful voyage I’ll remember all my life.
Covered forty-seven miles in nine and a half hours.
#passage
Planning
29 April 2024. Thick morning fog, visibility about five hundred metres. Fresh roll and coffee from Junge bakery, then the forecast.
Shipping Forecast
, 29.04.2025, 10.51 UTC
No warnings
Western Baltic: westerly winds 3 to 4, western part for a time light and variable winds, at times misty with fog patches, sea 0,5 meter.
Windy showed up to eleven knots before noon, then five. The fog stayed. I might wait all day, so decided to leave.
Navigating in fog
Out at nine. Anxious: visibility left little time to manoeuvre if something appeared. However long I travelled, the view never changed. AIS alone was my eyes.
I’d planned to motor, but seventeen knots and waves met me outside. Sails up instead. A couple of hours later, clear of the island. Ahead lay the Todendorf military exercise area between Fehmarn and Kiel Bay. A patrol vessel on AIS. Exercises underway.
Wind ahead, so tacking west, north, west again. Approaching the exercise boundary, the radio said: "Rassvet .... sechs". I tensed. Not sure it was me, but sat by the radio. Minutes later, the voice repeated: ‘Rassvet, Rassvet, [German phrase], null null sechs’, and my heart accelerated. I understood: steer zero-zero-six degrees, north away from the area. Turned immediately.
Returning
Fog still over the water. Yacht silhouettes appeared in the milky haze, without AIS. I can’t understand going out like this without something to make yourself visible.
After one, fog began lifting and wind died. Sails furled, engine on. Slowly, clear sky and bright sunshine.
Around five, Laboe’s naval memorial appeared on the horizon. A warm, almost home-like feeling. These two weeks felt an eternity: events, emotions, decisions, solitude, beauty. Now familiar land. I was back.
By seven, berthed in my new Dietrichsdorf spot. Packed and went home. A wonderful voyage I’ll remember all my life.
Covered forty-seven miles in nine and a half hours.
#passage
Passage weather
Overall
Afterword
No meetings, no routes dictated by others, no ‘five more minutes’ at the berth. Just you, the boat and the horizon. What happens next is your responsibility, under your sail. Nobody tells you what to do. You decide when to leave, where to go, how much to sleep, what to do when something breaks or AIS screams about crossing courses.
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The way to Bornholm. Afterword
Alone at sea
No meetings, no routes dictated by others, no ‘five more minutes’ at the berth. Just you, the boat and the horizon. What happens next is your responsibility, under your sail. Nobody tells you what to do. You decide when to leave, where to go, how much to sleep, what to do when something breaks or AIS screams about crossing courses.
From Lübeck, a circuit of the western Baltic: wild, lively Barhöft by Rügen; across to distinctive Rønne on Bornholm; round the island to Christiansø’s austere beauty; twenty-four hours to deserted Gedser; the resort of Heiligenhafen by Fehmarn; then home to Kiel.
Sailed offshore, slept under stars, crossed shipping schemes, dozed to a timer, woke to gulls. Porpoises, empty marinas at dawn, tacking along a military boundary as they called my boat on the radio. A grounding and rescue call. Torn-out stanchion, lost fender, damaged navigation-light bracket. Seasickness, breathless exhaustion, an unresponsive autopilot. Then Laboe’s memorial emerged from fog, and I knew I was home.
The important changes happened inside, beyond points on a route. Trusting myself, the boat, the wind. Letting go of control. Keeping calm when everything moves. Sleeping fifteen minutes with nobody to back you up. Accepting fear and still going to sea.
My lessons
1. Interval sleep is serious. An autopilot can fail; another vessel can appear from nowhere. Thirty minutes is a luxury. Better fifteen to twenty, with a timer.
2. Plan sleep before departure. Fatigue arrives suddenly. Try to avoid narrow passages or tacking at night.
3. You don’t have to sleep in the cockpit. Cold and uncomfortable. Better below for fifteen minutes, then back on watch.
4. Mooring lines and fenders ready beforehand. Lead bow lines to the cockpit. Two fenders each side suffice. Position them so you can lower them with a boat hook from the cockpit; hang the others after berthing.
5. If in doubt, don’t go alone. Bring a crewmate. Share four- to six-hour watches for food, rest and, most importantly, shared experience.
A journey within as well as a physical one. Listening to myself, trusting instinct, deciding, letting go. These nine days are a chapter I’ll revisit in memory and at sea.
Statistics
Route: Lübeck → Bärhöft → Rønne (Bornholm) → Christiansø → Gedser → Heiligenhafen → Kiel
Dates: 21–30 April 2025
Distance: 417 nautical miles
Duration: nine days
Wind: Beaufort force 2–5
Waves: 0.5–2 metres
The story: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
📍 Route map — if you’d like to follow in my wake
#passage
Alone at sea
No meetings, no routes dictated by others, no ‘five more minutes’ at the berth. Just you, the boat and the horizon. What happens next is your responsibility, under your sail. Nobody tells you what to do. You decide when to leave, where to go, how much to sleep, what to do when something breaks or AIS screams about crossing courses.
From Lübeck, a circuit of the western Baltic: wild, lively Barhöft by Rügen; across to distinctive Rønne on Bornholm; round the island to Christiansø’s austere beauty; twenty-four hours to deserted Gedser; the resort of Heiligenhafen by Fehmarn; then home to Kiel.
Sailed offshore, slept under stars, crossed shipping schemes, dozed to a timer, woke to gulls. Porpoises, empty marinas at dawn, tacking along a military boundary as they called my boat on the radio. A grounding and rescue call. Torn-out stanchion, lost fender, damaged navigation-light bracket. Seasickness, breathless exhaustion, an unresponsive autopilot. Then Laboe’s memorial emerged from fog, and I knew I was home.
The important changes happened inside, beyond points on a route. Trusting myself, the boat, the wind. Letting go of control. Keeping calm when everything moves. Sleeping fifteen minutes with nobody to back you up. Accepting fear and still going to sea.
My lessons
1. Interval sleep is serious. An autopilot can fail; another vessel can appear from nowhere. Thirty minutes is a luxury. Better fifteen to twenty, with a timer.
2. Plan sleep before departure. Fatigue arrives suddenly. Try to avoid narrow passages or tacking at night.
3. You don’t have to sleep in the cockpit. Cold and uncomfortable. Better below for fifteen minutes, then back on watch.
4. Mooring lines and fenders ready beforehand. Lead bow lines to the cockpit. Two fenders each side suffice. Position them so you can lower them with a boat hook from the cockpit; hang the others after berthing.
5. If in doubt, don’t go alone. Bring a crewmate. Share four- to six-hour watches for food, rest and, most importantly, shared experience.
A journey within as well as a physical one. Listening to myself, trusting instinct, deciding, letting go. These nine days are a chapter I’ll revisit in memory and at sea.
Statistics
Route: Lübeck → Bärhöft → Rønne (Bornholm) → Christiansø → Gedser → Heiligenhafen → Kiel
Dates: 21–30 April 2025
Distance: 417 nautical miles
Duration: nine days
Wind: Beaufort force 2–5
Waves: 0.5–2 metres
The story: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
📍 Route map — if you’d like to follow in my wake
#passage