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.
