Up reasonably early to be ready for the bridge opening at 0800; the first of the season. We breakfasted and nothing seemed to be happening. The bridge number had an incomprehensible message. Eventually a yellow jacketed figure could be seen emerging from bushes. It was joined by another but both disappeared. Eventually, warning bells sounded and the figures reemerged, examined the distant something and conferred. At last they walked onto the bridge while the barriers went down. Instruction seemed to be in progress and at last the bridge opened. We were wished a good season as we went through. This is in fact the Tottnäs bridge which sounds the same as our home town.
Once through the bridge we were motoring (no wind) through a lovely set of passages going first NE for a short distance then through an incredibly narrow curving channel where the buoyage direction changes suddenly in the middle and one is sailing in effect through a domestic garden. Once out its almost due south initially into a deserted lake surrounded by cliffs and trees then, after another channel past crags covered with houses and back through another craggy narrow passage into forest again. We enjoyed both the splendour of the forests and lakes and the beauty and absurdity of the houses and pavilions of the inhabitants. Part way through we went through Dragets canal 4+ metres wide and eventually emerged into open water south of Nynashamn.
The weather was grey when we passed Nynashamn, forgoing the splendid smoked fish stall with some regrets and plodded on into colder air on the long drag through Mysinggen. Round about Dalaro the rain began and it gradually increased in power and ferocity distinctly dampening both our spirits and our persons. We decided to stop at Tyresoe Slott or castle for the night. It’s close to Dalaro but up a very long series of lagoons with many desirable houses to enjoy en passante but less of interest in the rain which wound itself into a torrent as we came in to moor to the quay. We rapidly erected a shelter over the boom divested ourselves and made tea. When the rain eased Roger went off to investigate but found no signs of life in the marina but a rather damp barbecue going on for a mainly young group of people. We huddled on board and let the cooling engine provide warmth. We’d motored 42 miles – a necessary journey but not a pleasant one.
The weather was grey when we passed Nynashamn, forgoing the splendid smoked fish stall with some regrets and plodded on into colder air on the long drag through Mysinggen. Round about Dalaro the rain began and it gradually increased in power and ferocity distinctly dampening both our spirits and our persons. We decided to stop at Tyresoe Slott or castle for the night. It’s close to Dalaro but up a very long series of lagoons with many desirable houses to enjoy en passante but less of interest in the rain which wound itself into a torrent as we came in to moor to the quay. We rapidly erected a shelter over the boom divested ourselves and made tea. When the rain eased Roger went off to investigate but found no signs of life in the marina but a rather damp barbecue going on for a mainly young group of people. We huddled on board and let the cooling engine provide warmth. We’d motored 42 miles – a necessary journey but not a pleasant one.
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