Sailing Skaði Start small, think big.

630 nautical miles planned over 10 stages - the route from Kalix to Söderköping is roughly outlined and serves as a guide. If you have tips on beautiful natural harbours or other hidden gems along the way, we’d really appreciate them.

On Wednesday, the alarm went off at 04:00 to catch a flight to Luleå at 06:35. When we landed, we went more or less straight to Norrkust Marina in Båtskärnäs 🌐 to get the final bits of the boat ready for launching. Said and done. Get the mast in order, wait for our turn to let the boat “fly”, keep our fingers crossed that she would stay afloat and that no water would come rushing in anywhere. The sun was shining warmly, and the wind promised us a lovely first sail to the harbour 🌐 where Skadi had been moored for the past eight or nine years.

On Thursday, we attended a wedding during the day, and afterwards, we and seven friends took our Skadi and Fredric’s 🔗Clarity out together. After consulting the wind reports for Thursday afternoon, evening, and Friday morning, we sailed in a brisk wind that calmed down towards the evening, heading out to Bergön 🌐. In the evening, we had a barbecue, sauna, and good company.

It was my (Jennifer’s) first midsummer in Norrbotten, and I was completely fascinated by the night light — the last photo was taken when it was at its “darkest”, yet the sun was still visible with a faint halo. In the early hours, the weather shifted and the wind picked up. The return journey went swiftly, with only the mainsail hoisted.

After we managed to conjure up two more weeks of summer, we added an extra goal to our voyage — to take part in Medieval Week on Gotland, where we’ll spend a week. It’s an optimistic plan, assuming we’ll have the energy and perfect weather all the way. Since we can’t predict exactly when we’ll run out of energy, encounter bad weather, or have something break, we’ve added a few buffer days to give ourselves some breathing room.

After the week on Gotland, we’ll continue our voyage through the Göta Canal. Planning that leg in detail feels pointless, as we’ll be so dependent on lock openings and the number of other boats. If our holiday ends before we’ve made it through the canal, there’s a nice feature — the canal allows weekend sailing from town to town until we reach Gothenburg, as the canal fee includes five nights of guest berthing at each harbour along the way.

*Places to buy provisions

We took the chance to start our voyage a day earlier than planned — and of course, we wanted to experience what the bright northern nights have to offer. However, you can’t have everything. Bright nights we got, but also headwinds all the way to Bjuröklubb 🌐, which gave us a 26-hour sail, beating almost the entire way.

As the second boat to arrive at Bjuröklubb’s guest harbour, we were greeted by a German couple circumnavigating the world with their yacht 🔗Momo. The next day, we sat down and chatted with them about their voyages and how they stayed in touch with friends and family without the internet — wherever they are in the world, they can use their radio equipment and connect through amateur radio operators to receive daily updates about the world. Their first thought when sailing into the northern archipelago was that they had arrived in Maine, USA — everything looked so similar, even the rocks, the man said. Much of what they told us sounded like things I had only read about, except for Jennifer, who had actually lived in Maine for a while. Much of what they described about Maine reminded me of 🔗this article by Sara and Porter Fox.

At Bjuröklubb, we rested for a day before setting course again. There was barely any wind, but soon small gusts started coming from the north, creating the perfect opportunity for spinnaker sailing. You hoist a special sail at the bow of the boat that looks like a balloon — it works brilliantly when the wind is from behind, and on board it becomes completely calm.

After yesterday’s sailing with a lot of motoring and hungry stomachs to fill, we now need to embark on an expedition on Holmön 🌐 to find petrol — and, of course, the grocery store for food. Today, we set our course for Ulvön 🌐, an 80-nautical-mile voyage — this time it looks like we’ll have a fresh tailwind.

With absolutely perfect wind, we cast off from Byviken on Holmön. What we couldn’t have predicted was that this wind would carry us nearly 50 nautical miles — a gentle start with the spinnaker, later turning into a broad reach/beam reach* by the early hours. The most entertaining part was that the wind kept increasing throughout the night, giving us an almost utopian sail, pushing us steadily at 5.4 knots for several hours — until the sun rose and ruined everything. For about two hours it was absolute hell: the wind died completely while the waves remained high, tossing the boat violently back and forth. There was no control, and everything flew around the cabin! That was, of course, exactly when Anders and Jennifer were meant to swap night watches, but I didn’t think that would have been right under the circumstances.

As time went by, the land breeze picked up, the sails filled again, and we made good speed toward Ulvön. It didn’t feel right to wake Jennifer just so I could sleep for two hours when the harbour was already coming into view.

Of course, entering a harbour always brings its share of mishaps, big or small. For us, it was dropping an orange mug overboard — which immediately triggered a dramatic on-board rescue mission, tacking back against the wind to retrieve it. The rescue was a complete success, and our pride was restored.

When we finally arrived at Ulvön around 11 o’clock, it was time for me, Anders, to get some sleep, while Jennifer could peacefully explore the island’s history. My sleep was abruptly interrupted four hours later — a watch had fallen into the water right beneath the boat. It was Jennifer’s. This sparked deep boat sorrow, lasting another four hours. By coincidence, we started chatting with our boat neighbour about the seabed and the depth. He mentioned that his neighbour had once gone down to adjust some anchors and that the bottom was muddy. This, in turn, triggered a rescue attempt. On the first dive, the watch was once again back around Jennifer’s wrist.

*“Broad reach” means the wind comes diagonally from behind; “beam reach” means the wind comes directly from the side.

While waiting for our friends Matti and Alexia to join Skadi, we decided to stay an extra night on Ulvön. During the day, Jennifer and I took the chance to explore a very small part of the island — about all we could manage in the heat. The view from the old pilot’s house was magnificent, offering a full panorama of Ulvöhamn. In the photos above, you can spot Skadi’s mast — the shortest of all the boats — as ours was actually the smallest sailing boat in the harbour during our stay. We took the easy path up to the pilot’s house and a trail down, which either disappeared or we lost it — so we slowly made our way down through the dense and beautiful forest.

In the well-protected harbour, it’s easy to understand how important Ulvön once was for fishing, which was heavily regulated at the time. The southern island shelters the entire harbour on the northern one — which, according to legend, also gave birth to the delicacy surströmming (fermented herring).

Our last evening on Ulvön was wonderfully calm — a swim in the 22°C water followed by some relaxed conversation in the cabin before turning in for the next morning’s adventure.

A change in our sailing plan came when we took on our two crew members for two days. Instead of sailing directly from Ulvön to Sundsvall, we began planning a route to visit some islands near Härnösand. Storön 🌐, with its old fishing village, was high on our list, followed by Lungön 🌐 for an overnight stay. We cast off from Ulvön in very light winds, almost drifting forward, until a gentle breeze began to fill our sails, allowing us to pass Högbonden with its lighthouse perched high on a cliff. Just before reaching Storön, a thunderstorm approached, and the wind picked up sharply from the west — crushing our hopes of going ashore there. Dropping anchor on a rocky bottom full of unpredictable cracks in that kind of wind simply wasn’t an option. Since the weather forecast for the following day was also uncertain, we decided to head for a harbour near Härnösand. We chose Lustholmen 🌐, which a fellow sailor on Ulvön had recommended. In whipping wind and rain, we continued our sail until we reached the channel between Lungön and Hemsön. There, the headwind was unavoidable, and as darkness fell, the rain intensified. Just after we had tied Skadi to a buoy and the dock at Lustholmen, the skies opened up, and the rain poured down. The day’s broken plans didn’t matter anymore — Lustholmen turned out to be a cosy, well-sheltered cove from the wind.

The next day, we set course for Härnösand. With a pleasant wind, we were able to sail the entire way. There, we made a short stop to drop off our two crew members who had joined us in Ulvöhamn. We even had time for a quick coffee break and to restock provisions. Then the course was set for Sundsvall. The wind turned against us after rounding Härnön, and we had to tack all the way to Åstholmsudden before our heading aligned with the wind. The closer we got to Sundsvall, the lighter the wind became.

When the alarm rang at 05:30, we both knew it was time to cast off. This departure would take us from Norrland to Svealand — across the Bay of Gävle. As we peeked out through the hatch, the wind came from the east, just as the weather forecast had promised the night before. In the previous days, we had sailed in with a straight northerly wind towards Storjungfrun 🌐 in complete darkness, barely able to make out the outlines of the breakwaters — we could hear them, though, from the thunderous sound of waves crashing against the rocks. The full moon and the lighthouse helped us a good way in. As we came dangerously close, we grabbed the headlamp, and its beam revealed the channel markers. Once safely inside the harbour, we could finally relax a little, moor the boat, and open our traditional “dock beer” — Finnish, of course.

The video above shows us crossing the Bay of Gävle, sailing toward Öregrund. The waves rolled in large and heavy; at times they reached up to three metres. I (Anders) am not used to waves with such long troughs — up in the northern Bothnian Bay, the waves are short and brutal. But here, with these long, smooth waves, the boat could surf beautifully along in the strong wind.

When we arrived in Öregrund, we realised we had overlooked one small detail: it was the annual Boat Week — a festival filled with music and celebration. After ten hours of sailing, exhaustion took over, and the lively atmosphere didn’t bother us in the slightest. Calm would perhaps have been preferable, but our neighbours made up for everything. The German sailor on our port side offered to wash our dishes and tow us through the Göta Canal, while the neighbour on our starboard side kindly offered us electricity, as all sockets on the dock were already taken.

Right after leaving Öregrund, we started breaking away from our plan. Instead of following the itinerary of planned stops, we decided to sail for as long as the sun was up and then pick a nearby bay or harbour from the chart when the time felt right. Arholma 🌐 became our first stop in the Stockholm archipelago. The approach to the capital was noticeable — the number of sailing and motorboats around us was like nothing we’d experienced before, forcing us, for the first time ever, to recall the rules of right of way. I, Anders, can’t remember a single time back in the Kalix archipelago where I actually needed to think about give-way rules.

We continued sailing in light wind, and before long the sun was about to set again. We chose Rödlöga 🌐 without knowing what to expect, zigzagging between rocks and islands until we arrived at a small paradise. Around forty sailboats were moored directly to the cliffs, no loud music anywhere — just laughter and quiet chatter echoing across the water, with the occasional splash from someone taking an evening swim.

The next day after arriving in Rödlöga, we kept sailing — once again changing our plan, and we would keep doing so. Jennifer had arranged to meet an old friend in Nynäshamn, so we decided not to head for Landsort and instead set course for Nynäshamn. We still had quite a way to go, and the sun would have to set at least once more before we reached our destination. As we passed Möja 🌐, we started noticing Swiss flags flying from several boats. We quickly confirmed we hadn’t ended up on Lake Geneva — it was Swiss National Day.

The bay at Stora Husarn 🌐 turned out to be the perfect place to anchor for the sunset. We weren’t sure whether we could moor directly to the island or if we should drop anchor, but once inside the bay, some fellow sailors helped us find a spot right against the rocks.

At the moment, we’re moored in Nynäshamn 🌐, preparing for our crossing to Gotland. Provisions need to be bought, batteries charged, and the water tanks filled — then we’ll set course for Gotland. The plan is a night sail to arrive in the morning or late forenoon, in daylight. The wind forecast is perfect — westerly, shifting north during the passage.

Last week was our “holiday from the holiday.” Once again, we had a German neighbour boat, and we shared a few beers and sampled each other’s whisky collections. We spent a week on Gotland to take part in Medieval Week. The heat, however, refused to take a break — each day grew hotter and hotter. We hid in the boat, where a constant cross-breeze kept us cool, and ventured out only when the sun began to set to meet people in Visby. This year’s Medieval Week was relatively calm — the heat had drained everyone’s energy. On Wednesday, the hottest day of all, the pirates appeared in the harbour. Every year they hold a walk along the city wall, telling stories at each tower and toasting along the way. We, collapsed in the boat, didn’t have the energy for such a walk. But the pirates eventually came to the harbour to plunder the boats of their precious drinks. We found an old bottle of whiskey that had been on board far too long to be drinkable — but as everyone knows about Tennessee whiskey, we tossed it to the pirates anyway. One of Jennifer’s friends happened to be on one of the “pirate ships”; he got the last sip of Captain Morgan.

The day we had planned to leave Gotland, the wind was far too strong, and the waves crashed violently against the shore. We stayed put, sat by the beach with a drink in hand, and listened to the sea’s performance.

During our last days on Gotland, we prepared for the passage through the Göta Canal — we bought long ropes and extra fenders. Then, at 7 in the morning, we cast off. The wind was coming from entirely the wrong direction, so we had to tack our way forward. Eventually, the wind died completely. To make it to the mainland in time, we started the engine. Halfway between Gotland and the mainland, we suddenly heard two loud bangs. We couldn’t see any ships or activity on the calm sea. I immediately grabbed the chart to check if we had drifted into a military exercise zone — we hadn’t. Half an hour later, another, even louder bang came, and this time we could feel a faint pressure wave in the air. It hit me — it must be fighter jets breaking the sound barrier. When we stopped to refuel the engine and everything went quiet, we heard the jets and confirmed it.

Darkness fell as we arrived in Arkösund 🌐, our last stop before checking into the Göta Canal. That’s also when we realised the booking season had started right in the middle of our journey — and that such passages must be booked five days in advance. We thought we were doomed, but quickly picked up the phone and called the Göta Canal office. Thankfully, it could be sorted.

The sail to Mem, the first lock of the Göta Canal from the east, brought good wind, and we sailed almost the entire way before stopping there for the night.

Once we entered the canal, the engine, of course, started making strange noises from time to time. It got worse when we reached Lake Asplången 🌐 — the engine began sounding like a coffee percolator. Which, in a canal, is quite stressful, as we rely entirely on the motor and can’t sail if it breaks down. As long as we made it to Norsholm, we could inspect the engine in the guest harbour.

The first thing the lock keeper, Jonathan, said after the Asplången lock was, “That was slow — having engine trouble?” He kindly offered to ride along with us to Norsholm and open the locks on the way, but we declined since the guest harbour is located before the lock, giving us access to electricity and toilets.

We ignored the engine trouble and pushed on to Norsholm, managing to get there without stalling. Once we arrived, we started to seriously consider whether our 1970s engine should continue in service or be replaced. Our options were to take it apart and replace the parts we didn’t have, or simply buy a new, modern outboard. The next morning, as soon as the shops opened, we began calling boat dealers to check what engines they had in stock.

One shop had exactly what we needed — 🔗 Alvar Boats. We quickly jumped off the boat, caught the bus, and then the commuter train to Norrköping. Once there, we looked for a car rental — but the company couldn’t rent us one since all their cars were out on delivery. Odd, we thought, and began searching for alternatives. Back home in Gothenburg, we use the car-sharing service Sunfleet, which also existed in Norrköping. Within a minute, we had booked a car and briskly walked to Linköping University, where it was parked.

When we arrived at Alvar Boats, I barely had to say “5-horse outboard” before they recognised my voice from the phone call. They immediately began preparing the motor — filling oil, test-running it, and, of course, offering us coffee and cake.

Soon we were back at the boat, mounted the new engine, and started it on the first try. All the stress disappeared instantly. Now we were only locked in at Norsholm, as the canal had switched from high to low season — meaning only certain convoys passed and locks were opened on specific days. I went to the lock keeper to ask if there would be any lockings that day; there was only one — a 29-metre canal boat from England, and there wasn’t room for us.

Since we still had the rental car and nothing else planned, we drove into Norrköping, found a cosy brewery — Knäppingen — and enjoyed a meal and some of their house beers.

Back on the boat, we slept well again. The next day we waited for the upcoming convoy, which had started in Mem that morning. When it arrived, we managed to get a spot in the third lock-through. This one was tricky — situated right between a road bridge and a railway bridge. The canal company has trouble getting the railway bridge opened during rush hour, so the process was slow. We fit in only because our boat was the narrowest, squeezed beside yet another large German yacht, 🔗 SY Fairytale.

After that, it was a three-hour journey across Lake Roxen — this time in strong headwinds, which were no problem for the new engine. Quieter, more fuel-efficient, and capable of maintaining a higher, more consistent speed.

We’ve now reached Berg Locks — a staircase of seven consecutive locks. Today’s challenge: to master the ascent, rising 28 metres above Lake Roxen. That’s the mission for today!

The Berg Locks turned out not to be as difficult as expected — just the same procedure repeated several times. Soon we were on our way again in the canal. We ended up ahead of a motorboat from Motala, whose crew we chatted and joked with quite a bit. After the Berg Locks, we had to wait for the lock ahead of us to finish, which took time. Neither we nor the German boat behind us could see whether the lock was ready or not, which became a problem. I realised this might be the first time we could actually use our VHF radio. I went over to the captain of the German boat and told him I’d go ahead to the lock and signal on channel 72 once it was open so they could follow us in.

We motored up to the nearest dock by the lock, where the motorboat bound for Motala was also moored. Just seconds after we’d tied up, their large dog tried to jump aboard but failed miserably — it sank like a stone. One of the guys from the Motala boat stretched out as far as he could to grab the dog, and finally managed to get hold of its collar, pulling the dog, Lisa, back to the surface — but then couldn’t lift her any further. The older daughter on board impulsively jumped into the water to rescue her, and we could instantly hear the hiss of her automatic lifejacket inflating.

Once the dog was pulled to the shore, she shook herself happily dry. On the girl’s arm, we saw she had cuts from rocks. Jennifer quickly ran down into our boat to fetch everything needed to clean the wound. Just as they’d finished, the locks opened, and I called over the radio: “Locks is open... Locks is open,” and we could see the German boat respond to the signal.

At Borenshult, the German boat didn’t appear — instead, a different one showed up: India III, a beautifully custom-built Lütje 41 with a wooden deck, owned by a student fraternity from Kiel (Corps Holsatia Kiel). Their journey can be read about here 🔗. The locks opened much more forcefully than before, and the currents were intense. India III, twice the size of our boat, was positioned at the front and had to work hard, while our small boat had it much easier.

When the canal paused in Motala to allow the crossing of Lake Vättern, we lost a few boats, leaving only four of us to sail across in strong headwinds. We arrived in Karlsborg and rested a few hours before the 18:00 bridge opening.

We spent the night in Forsvik. The rain poured all night and lingered in the air the next morning as we continued through the beautiful lake landscape. The weather improved the closer we got to Töreboda, and when we finally arrived — after following a passenger ferry at painfully slow speed — we were able to restock food and drinks.

That evening in Töreboda, the crew of India III knocked on our boat and invited us aboard, saying they thought we were “real sailors” too. Another couple, who had built their own sailing boat 40 years ago, had treated the Germans to herring and potatoes — in true Swedish fashion, complete with drinking songs and schnapps. We sang German and Swedish songs — both student anthems and traditional tunes — and agreed that our three boats would sail to an island in Lake Vänern for a sauna. It would be the first sauna for me and Jennifer on the entire journey, as there had been a fire ban all summer. The boat was full of unused firewood, ready at last to be put to use.

Känslan att bli nedslussade i Värnen genom sista slussen på Göta kanal var obeskrivlig, vi hade fixat kanalen! något som 5 veckor tidigare hade kändes långt borta. Sista biten längsmed kanalen hade varit väldigt lugn och vädret hade äntligen spruckit upp för att visa os solsken. Vilket för oss var en helt otrolig tajming för batterierna hade börjat sina endel, vi upptäckte att solcellen började ge med sig också den var inte lika effektiv som i början av resan det skador på solcellen hade gjort att det hade börjat läka in vatten och oxidera cellerna. Det är sådant som gör livet på en båt frustrerande men också intressant för det finns alltid något som måste fixas och förbättras.

Vi tog en lugn kväll Sjötorps hamn, hängde med våra tyska vänner på India III. Toto som hade seglat först i konvojen som vi hakade på i Norsholm, han tipsade om ett ställe på Lurö som hade bastu och mat Lurö Gästhärbärge & Krog, vi som inte hade bastat på hela resan på grund av brandförbudet som hade varit i hela Sverige.

Dagen efter satte vi kurs mot Lurö, en ö mitt i Värnen. Eftersom vår båt var mindre och inte hade lika hög mast kunde vi ta sydliga farleden förbi Mariestad. Strax efter Mariestad blåste vinden upp rejält, vi hade alldeles för mycket segel uppe och båten krängde rejält. En båt seglade förbi och fotade oss när vi låg som mest i vinden.

Med vinden i Slör kunde vi segla in mot Lurö i rekordhastighet, jag kunde se då och då att vi var uppe i 8 knop med denna lilla båt. Både Toto och India III låg på Kryssarklubbens bojar, en tredje boj var också ledig. Men vi lade oss mot land av enkelheten att kunna gå iland hur vi ville.

Levnadskonstnären Gunnar som driver Lurö Gästhärbärge & Krog tillsammans med en kompanjon, är en seglare från Karlstad, hans berättade från Atlanseglingar och livet på oceanerna tog aldrig slut men man var alltid tvungen att fråga honom om en. Den mest spektakulära berättelsen var att han tillsammans med ett par vänner byggde ett fartyg vid namn Victoria af Carlstad på slutet av 70-talet och seglade till Karibien.

Victoria af Carlstad när hon lämnar hamn i november 1981

Vänern är större än man tror, det tog många timmar från Lurö som ändå ligger mitt i Vänern till att vi passerade den höga bron Vänersborg. När vi närmade oss Vänersborg kunde vi höra på VHF-radion att India III hade seglat snabbare än oss genom regnet, de var vi full färd i att öppna broarna in mot Vänersborg, väl när vi var i Vänersborg kunde vi höra dem kommunicera med slussarna innan knastret överröstade talet.

Vi tog en övernattning i Vänersborg eftersom vi inte skulle ha hunnit ta oss tillräckligt innan broarna och slussarna skulle stänga för dagen. Vi tog oss en promenad i Västra Götalands huvudstad och Jennifer pekade ut lägenheten hon en gång bott i. Resten av kvällen spenderade vi på en restaurang med vetskapen att vi har seglat den sista sträckan på detta äventyr. När vi vaknade på morgonen var våra båtgrannar redan i färd att förbereda sina båtar för att fortsätta sin resa genom älven, snabbt tog vi på oss kläder och sprang på toalett. Strax efter båtgrannarna var vi också ute på vattnet för att invänta broöppningen.

I Trollhättan 🌐 hörde vi på radion att de inväntade oss för en broöppning då det redan var en ensam dansk båt som låg och puttrade också ha broöppning. Vi anlände men fick inte syn på någon broöppning på ett bra tag. Vi blev stressade eftersom det skulle vara en löpartävling som skulle hindra broöppningen helt under flera timmar. Med knapptrycket på VHFen frågade jag var broöppningen hade tagit vägen, och svar fick vi att de skulle öppna bron.

I Trollhättan upptäckte vi också att slussarna vi var med om i Göta kanal var väldigt små i jämförelse, fick fick lära oss den hårda vägen. När man slussas ner så ser man till att ha rep som går från båten upp till kajkanten och tillbaka in i båten, för att kunna ge mer rep när vattnet under båten sjunker och att ha kontroll över båten, när vi stod där och hoppades att det var slut på slussningen för våra rep började ta slut så hade vi bara kommit halvvägs. I väggen fanns det hål för att lägga an repet en gång till vilket var en väldans tur för oss eftersom längden på vårt rep var inte nog.

Närmare Göteborg, vårt slutmål kunde vi känna med regnet som en god påminnelse att västkusten var i närheten. Innan vi skulle ta oss till Göteborg fick vi ta en övernattning i Kungälv, som helt och hållet saknar en gästhamn eller någon som helst ordning när det gäller båtar på besök, en gång i tiden för länge sedan fanns det en gästhamn mellan Bohus fästing och Kungälv, vi gick in där i den smala passagen mellan vass för att undersöka läget. Den bryggan som en gång var gästplats var vänd åt fel håll och helt omöjligt att använda. Vi tjuvlånade tom båtplats för att kunna undersöka läget djupare. I ett kafé så frågade vi hur det fungerade, de rykte på axlarna och sa att Kommunen ger inga besked. Vi såg några ansikten vi kände igen från en tysk båt som vi slussats med i Göta kanal och frågade var de hade lagt till. På andra sidan Bohus fästing fanns det en pausbrygga för de som väntar på broöppning. Vi hoppade tillbaka i båten och flyttade oss. Kvällen spenderades på en väldigt fin Italiensk restaurang i Kungälv.

1000 sjömil avverkade, med minnen och erfarenhet för livet kliver vi i land efter 6 veckor av ständigt nya platser och med trevliga människor som med sin nyfikenhet frågar var vi hade seglat från och var vi skulle. Människors historier om sina egna olika liv och äventyr, allas spektakulära med olika karaktärer. Urmakare, polarforskare, sjöfarare, studenter, pensionärer alla som satt sin prägel på livet och som även som oss är ute på ett mindre och större äventyr. Det är alla olika möten med så många olika karaktärer som gett äventyret trevliga minnen.