I don't wish to alarm anybody but...

... we're on our way home!

Yes, having spent a few days in Tallinn we decided to begin our long journey home as soon as we got a decent weather forecast.

We’d toyed with the idea of nipping over to Finland first – Helsinki was just 45 miles away – but we’d then have been tempted to cruise along Finland’s south coast and around the Aland islands before crossing to Sweden and making our way home. Whilst this is reportedly beautiful cruising country, it would have put us under a lot of pressure to get home before October – something we’d already decided we wanted to do.

What about leaving Cyclone in the Baltic and returning next year, I hear you ask (I’ve been hearing voices for some time now…)? Well, we’d considered doing that and got as far as looking at costs, but eventually decided we’d rather have Cyclone with us at home so our options would be open for 2018.

Having agreed to start making our way home, we then had to decide what route to take. 

Circumstances (the weather!) had encouraged us to make a run for Tallinn at the expense of spending time around the Estonian islands, so we thought it might be nice to see a bit more of them. From there, it’d be a fairly big leap (for us!) to Gotland, Sweden, which would set us up for a return leg around the coast of Sweden to Germany – perhaps via Bornholm, Denmark.

Whilst neither of us were keen on the 140ish mile crossing to Gotland, we agreed it would be worth it subject to getting a decent weather forecast…

The strong easterly winds which had blown for the duration of our stay in Tallinn were due to abate on Sunday 2^nd July and so we planned an 0500 departure for Heltermaa, which was about 75 miles west on the island of Hiiumaa. 

First we had to say farewell to the Roos who planned to sail to Finland and the Aland islands, meaning our paths would be unlikely to cross again. They’d made great travelling companions (and a great pie!) so we were sorry to be saying goodbye. Such is the cruising life!

Before going our separate ways, Phil insisted we partake of some vodka he’d been given by a Russian friend he’d made. I can’t recall ever having had vodka before and expected some kind of firewater – naturally we had to drink it neat – but it was actually quite smooth. Nice bottle too!

Maree, Phil and the vodka. Do you think this was his first?!!

Nice bottle!

Cyclone’s in there somewhere. Kalev Yacht Club moorings

It was clearly an Olympic marina

Our trip to Hiiumaa would have been uneventful were it not for the fog. Can you spot the huge tanker in the picture below? I assure you it’s there! We saw it on radar and AIS before (eventually) just managing to make it out and photograph it. It was at anchor and about 400m from us!

A huge tanker. About a quarter of a mile away!

When we’d sailed through the Estonian Islands on our way to Tallinn it had been rather windy and, in those conditions, taking photos is not the first thing on your mind. This time we were determined to get some, but I’m afraid it’s one of those occasions when the scenery is too big for a camera.

What am I talking about? Well, if you zoom out enough to show the number of islands around, they just look like narrow strips between sea and sky. If you zoom in, they just look like another piece of land! I suppose this is when a video camera is needed to pan around, but it’s hard enough keeping a normal camera still and a horizontal horizon on a boat – let alone trying to do the same with video!

A close up of one of the islands. There are a lot of boulders in Estonian waters

A view from a distance. See? Rubbish! It was really very attractive

Heltermaa, our destination, was one of Hiiumaa’s two ferry ports and, whilst I didn’t have a timetable to hand, I could have told you exactly when there would be a ferry in the narrow access channel. At the time we were in it, of course!

Yes, OK. You have the channel. We’ll just step outside it for a moment…

Statue on the harbour wall. Not sure what its significance is 

Cyclone claims Heltermaa for Great Britain? (It’s a tradition in Baltic harbours to fly the national flag of visitors and, at this stage, we were the only one!)

After an 0500 start and 70 odd miles, we were happy to stay at Heltermaa for a few days. The harbour was practically empty and the scenery was beautiful. It was also really quiet, with just the occasional birdsong disturbing the peace.

There's very little at Heltermaa so we took a bus to Kardla, the largest town on the island, where we enjoyed a leisurely stroll and an ice cream. 

Old house in Kardla

Some weird figures. Wooden carvings seem quite the thing in these parts

Built as a wool store in 1849 for the wool imported from Australia and New Zealand

The “Long House” – home to the director of the broadcloth factory established in 1830. Now Hiiumaa museum

One of the houses on Kardla square. Note plaque identifying it as a national monument

Air raid shelter? Who knows. There were a lot of these about

Even a town on a sparsely populated island couldn’t escape the communist blocks

More traditional construction, just around the corner from the communist monstrosities

Monument in honour of those who defended Hiiumaa in WW2. Weighs 46 tonnes, apparently

Small shops in Kardla

Choir stand in Kardla’s park. Built 1926 for Hiimuaa’s first song day and painted the colours of the municipal flag when Kardla became Estonia’s Song Capital in 2012

Kardla’s church built 1861/63 for the factory workers. Who had to pay for it!

Memorial to the Hiiumaa residents killed in WW2. Its construction in 2012 was coordinated by the Hiiumaa Organisation of Freedom Fighters and Repressed Persons (amongst others)

The best thing to do with a Jawa CZ Tim?

Having said we were happy to spend a few days in Heltermaa, a reasonable forecast (well, better than the one for the following day in any case) saw me dragging a barely conscious Jo out of bed after just 2 nights to head for Soru – also on Hiiumaa. I’d already paid the harbourmaster and arranged to refuel but, in spite of that, she didn’t seem particularly impressed! She later supported my decision (it makes her life easier…) and explained that it was just confusion over the rude awakening that had led to her (apparent) disposition!

In the event the forecast wasn’t exactly accurate. There’d been no mention of thunderstorms for one thing and, as so often seems to happen, the wind was stronger than forecast – particularly as we neared Soru in a narrow channel with it right on the nose!

Thunderstorm en route. Fortunately they never came particularly close and we stayed dry throughout

Soru harbour. We were the only visitor except for a Swedish boat that arrived at 0630 and left at 1600

Soru was lovely. There was nothing much there except for the ferry, a small museum, a bar/restaurant  and the early foundations of what is destined to become a Sea Centre where old boats will be restored and replicas built.

In Heltermaa, despite my protestations, the harbour master had only charged us for one of the two nights we stayed. In Soru, he never turned up at all! As a consequence we were 60 euros better off than we should have been. Result!

Boat awaiting restoration…

… and another

The ferry to Saaremaa – Soru’s true raison d’etre

From Soru, it was the “big one” – our 140ish mile jump to Gotland. That won’t sound much to many sailors but our preference is for coastal hopping as long overnight trips are just too blooming tiring!

Regrettably Jo’s many talents don’t include sailing and so, unless conditions are truly static and visibility is good (which doesn’t seem to happen much in our experience), I have to be on deck at all times. We assume a speed of 5 knots when planning and so 145 miles means a journey of about 29 hours – a long time to remain awake and alert.

After 2 nights at Soru we got a reasonable forecast for the following day and so decided to go for it. It wasn’t a great forecast as it meant we’d be sailing close hauled for the first half of the trip (which is tiring as this is when the boat leans over a fair bit) and then motoring into a headwind of just a couple of knots – so presumably a flat sea - for the second.

I sense that you’re already guessing what the “actual” would be…

Yes, in the event the winds – both those that permitted us to sail and the headwinds – were stronger than forecast. This wasn’t really a problem for the sailing bit – we just put a couple of reefs in both sails and made rapid progress – but poor old Cyclone only had 18hp when her engine was new (it’s now 30 years old) and so motoring into the wind and a lumpy sea was never going to be her forte!

Why not sail into the wind then, I hear you ask (I really am hearing a lot of voices today…)? Well that’s an option but it means having to tack (zigzag) the whole way, thereby adding many miles to an already long trip. We actually did a combination of both – switching from sail to motor and back again depending on which enabled us to make best progress.

It was pretty soul destroying stuff though, watching the remaining distance reduce by as little as 3 miles in an hour and knowing there were still some 40 odd still to go…

A highlight of the trip (you have to look for these sometimes!) was the light. I’d long suspected that it never got really properly dark, but hadn’t previously been awake all night to confirm this. I can now state unequivocally that it doesn’t.

The pictures below were taken at about 2330 - an hour after sunset. I watched the orange glow in the northern sky and it never disappeared. Instead, it just spread slowly towards the east until the sun reappeared a little before 0430. Whilst it was nowhere near light enough to read by, there was always sufficient light for me to see the position of the various ropes and latches etc. It’s a bit weird but great for sailing. Much better than spending hour after hour in the pitch black – which must be what winters are like in these parts!   

An hour or so past sunset…

… and again

After 29.5 hours we finally reached our destination of Lickershamn on Gotland. In the event (I must think of an alternative for that phrase…) this equated to an average speed of 4.95 knots, so only a little short of the speed we use for passage planning.

I think what was so tiresome about the trip was the fact that the second half of the trip was so damned slow. Our reasonable (if worse than usual) overall progress was thanks to the 6 knots plus that we’d maintained for the first 12 or so hours.

Having had just an hour off watch during which I was unable to sleep, I was absolutely shattered – more so than on the other long legs of the trip so far. My body seemed to be quivering for some reason too – something I’ve not experienced before!

After an afternoon kip of an hour or so we dined in the evening to the sound of live jazz/blues (and a few other ditties like “What shall we do with the drunken sailor”, “Swing lo, Sweet Chariot” and some German oompah stuff) from the bar opposite – all very pleasant. We didn’t make the band’s third set though. Crawling into bed that night had never felt so good!

The approach to Lickershamn

Lickershamn…

…and again…

… and again. Cyclone second from left

Lickershamn’s beach and harbour entrance

The other beach, with the Jungfrun limestone column in the distance

… and this is what it looks like close up. 

Houses overlooking Lickershamn harbour 

We left Lickershamn for Klintemala, a small harbour on the Swedish mainland, on 10^th July. The 65+ miles of the crossing meant yet another early start and we set off just before 0600. It would have been earlier if I hadn’t realised when speaking to my mother on the phone the previous day that I was still on Eastern European Time (BST +2)! I wondered why there didn’t seem to be many people about first thing in the morning…

Jungfrun again, on our way out of Lickershamn

There’s a lot of algae in the water in places. Fancy a swim?

The “sail” was predominantly a motor, although we did get a few hours of fast sailing in towards the end of the trip. Then it was sails down for the last 6 miles as this is archipelago country – i.e. lots of rocks and islands to negotiate! A dirty great genoa (the sail at the front of the boat) doesn’t help you spot those small but essential navigation markers!

A tall building with a light on the top. It’s a lighthouse mum!

There are lots of these. And bigger ones. And smaller ones! And plenty just under the surface too!

When we arrived at Klintemala the harbour looked full. This wasn’t a great surprise to us as it was about 1800 and July is the busy month in Sweden.

We then spotted the harbour master gesturing to us as he legged it down the pontoon and we realised he wanted us to raft to the – much smaller – boat at the end of it. I’d never have done this without being directed to, but he explained it was his mate’s boat and he was getting a discount so it was fine! 2 more boats managed to squeeze in after us. One was directed to the other end of the row and the other simply spotted a small space and elbowed his way into it! Apparently that’s not uncommon around here! 2 later arrivals simply anchored off.

The following night was chaos though, with 5 boats arriving at more or less the same time. Gloves were off as one yacht overtook another and forced him aside as he went for a stern buoy.  He got his comeuppance though, as his line snagged and brought his boat up short. As a result, the one he'd overtaken ploughed straight into the back of him! Madness!!

A view from our Klintemala mooring

The Klintemala pontoon at 1100 the following day. Ready for the next day’s mad crush!

Cyclone on her morning berth. We’d moved inside the small boat we were rafted to as soon as there was space.

Another view from Cyclone

The village

View through the village towards the harbour

Klintemala harbour. Cyclone is top right

Hobbit house (Sauna!)

After a couple of nights at Klintemala it was time to move on again - this time just under 30 miles to Oskarshamn. We took some more photos of the archipelago on the way:

Leaving Klintemala

Archipelago shot...

... and another...

... and another...

... and another

The trip to Oskarshamn was largely uneventful - until, that is, I got my hand jammed between the rope attached to a stern buoy and the boat's pushpit (the rail on the stern). As the boat moved towards the quay, the pressure got higher and the line began to burn as it was dragged through my hand. Result? Blistered fingers before, seconds later, the skin was torn off them. Brought tears to my eyes it did. Ouch!!!

The approach to Oskarsham. I still had pain free fingers at this point!

Time to go shopping now and have a look around. We intend to continue our way south tomorrow.

Thanks for reading.