Exploring the entire east coast of Sweden, travelling north with the spring - that was the aim of the Hamburg photographer Friedhelm Würfel. Using original plans, he built his dream boat himself, a 6.5 metre Alaskan skiff. With "Knipse" on the trailer, he set off for Sweden at the beginning of May 2009. The skiff was launched in Gävle, the "gateway to Norrland" - and the adventure could begin. It was an extraordinary trip along lonely, rocky coasts and skerries, full of interesting encounters and observations.
It's around 7 o'clock in the morning on 17 May. We are in the Huseliiharen marina, the water and air temperature are around 5 °Celsius and the sun is shining from a cloudless sky. It was a cold night, the ice on deck is beginning to thaw, while the morning coffee warms my insides. I start to have doubts: is it perhaps too early in the year for this trip? But I have set my mind on travelling north with spring.
Yesterday we arrived in Gävle after a total of 1300 kilometres by car and two overnight stays at campsites near Malmö and Stockholm - with "Knipse" serving as our caravan. We are my brother-in-law Konni, who will be accompanying me for the first few days of the trip, my Alaskan skiff "Knipse" and me. Gävle is known as the "porten till Norrland" (the gateway to Norrland, the northernmost part of Sweden). The Huseliiharen marina lies to the north-east. This is where "Knipse" comes into her element by slip. Car and trailer can be parked at the neighbouring boatyard.
We set off again at half past eleven and leave Gävle Bay through the trellis of the Holmudsrännan beacons. The wind is blowing from the north-east at around force four. Outside the offshore archipelago, the waves become quite unpleasant. We therefore decide to anchor between the islets of Enmaren and Skeppmaren. The sun is now high in the sky and really heats us up, and the worries of the morning are forgotten. The two small islands are perfect for a stroll. So we inflate the dinghy. Everything is "turning into spring": the birch trees are sprouting, the clover is sprouting and the anemones are blooming. Sea ducks and mergansers watch our activities from a distance.
After manoeuvring between bird and seal sanctuaries north of Gran, we sail towards Sundsvall a few days later. We reach the modern marina and enjoy its amenities: Shower, WC, washing machine and tumble dryer. It is not until late afternoon that we set off to visit "Stenstaden" (the "stone town").
Towards the end of the 19th century, the timber barons were tired of the fires that devastated the town at regular intervals. So they built a town of stone - which was completely unusual for local conditions. As money was no object, they engaged the best architects from all over Europe. The result is impressive. And as this place has never seen war, everything is in its original state. We feel very much at home in the friendly atmosphere of this city, which we experience as something special with its architecture and elegant boulevards.
Our next destination is Härnösand, the small university town at the mouth of the Ångermanälven, half of which is on the mainland and the other half on the island of Härnön. In the town, you can choose between a western and an eastern canal. We decide in favour of the western option. Shortly after a bridge with a clearance of only 2.50 metres, the canal widens into a small lake. We keep an eye out for a petrol station and photo opportunities and chug along at our slowest speed. Bang! Engine stopped. North of Västra Kanalen, I hit a rock a few metres outside the buoy line. We inspect the damage: two blades of the three-bladed propeller have slight dents. Good thing we were so slow! A look at the map shows: It should be between three and six metres deep here. Maps are not always accurate.
Off the "High Coast"
The area between Härnösand and Örnsköldsvik is known as the "High Coast" (Höga Kusten). It was added to the list of World Heritage Sites a few years ago. The effects of the land uplift caused by the ice age can still be seen particularly well here today. There is the interesting effect that old harbour towns sometimes lie on dry land.
Now alone on board, I wake up early and write in my diary in the morning sun. It already has a lot of power - after all, it's 30 May. As I'm getting ready to cast off, the harbour master comes by and asks me to help him translate his harbour rules into German. I try my best and am rewarded with a few tips for the rest of my route. First I head back through the two narrow sections of Kråknäsfjärden into Gaviksfjärden.
I then follow the coast further north and soon reach Högbonden. This small island has the second highest lighthouse in Sweden at around 75 metres. It was built in 1907. At that time, the fire master, the keepers and the workers lived on Högbonden with their families. The lighthouse provided a living for more than 20 people. Today, the house next to the beacon serves as a youth hostel.
Through the Kvarken
Kvarken is the strait that separates the Bothnian Sea in the south from the Bothnian Bay in the north. The area of the archipelago in the area increases by around 100 hectares every year due to land uplift, so it is easy to imagine that one day it will be possible to cross the Gulf of Bothnia on dry land here - even without the bridge between Sweden and Finland that is currently under discussion.
You probably have to be glad that the nautical charts still show the route to Umeå at all, because shipping on the Ume Älven has lost all commercial significance, as there is no longer a large harbour in Umeå due to the land uplift. Only the remains of the quays are still visible above and below the water. The centre of the fairway is usually marked by triangular beacons on land, making navigation easy. Only sometimes do the white beacons barely stand out from the buildings or are overgrown. In Umeå, I finally moor at the town's guest jetty.
It's warm and all the parks and green spaces are full of sun-hungry young people: Of the
of the city's 75,000 inhabitants, around 25,000 are students. The urban layout with its square neighbourhoods dates back to the end of the 19th century. I also find the numerous birch avenues worth seeing, which have made Umeå known as the "city of birches". In the first green of spring, the city looks festively decorated.
Holmön is not the first, but it is the first larger island. After a good two and a half hours, I reach Byviken, the ferry and guest harbour in the north of Holmön. My course first takes me through the maze of buoys in the fairways and secondary fairways off Umeå and then further north across the grey Baltic Sea. The area between Holmön and the mainland is Västra Kvarken, which is actually the western part of Norra Kvarken.
There is a boat museum right by the harbour. It contains a lovingly organised exhibition on the history of the island. Holmön is not a fishing island, it was used for agricultural purposes. And in winter, people went out on the ice in a kind of sledge boat to hunt seals. I also learn about the fields: they are so narrow because they were repeatedly divided up among the sons. I finally come to a tower, like the ones they used to build for orientation. And if, like this one, it had a barrel as a wind vane, it meant that there was drinking water there.
I have now arrived in the northernmost sea area of my journey, the Bothnian Bay. It is fed by several larger rivers, and as the Norra Kvarken, which is only about 25 metres deep on average, forms a kind of sill that prevents the exchange of water from south to north, this northernmost part of the Baltic Sea is extremely low in salt. I took a sip and didn't taste any salt. On around 120 days a year, the Bothnian Bay is covered with a layer of ice up to one metre thick.
After a brisk, sunny journey, I reach Furuögrund. Almost 200 years ago, harbour facilities were built here from cross-laminated timber, which are now in a very picturesque state of decay. In this time alone, the land has risen by around one and a half to two metres! So harbours here are not built to last forever.
I make my way to the village of Byske, just a few kilometres away. The Byskeälven, which flows into the Bottenwiek here, is considered the river with the most salmon in Sweden, so it's only logical that a monument to this fish has been erected here. When I get back to "Knipse", the harbour master offers to give me a few tips for the next part of the trip. I gladly accept, and soon we are kneeling on the jetty in front of my nautical charts. Of course, the man knows the area like the back of his hand and I am grateful for the tips. But if I were to follow all his tips ... well, that would probably be an extra trip.
The harbour master is very pleased about the internationality of his harbour, as the "Knipse" is already the fourth guest boat this year. All of them have indicated Haparanda as their destination, which, as I have already realised several times, is completely incomprehensible for a Swede. Why are so many Germans drawn to Haparanda of all places? I think it has a lot to do with the name. Haparanda sounds somehow promising. The name is borrowed from Finnish and means something like aspen beach. Incidentally, it is not the northernmost harbour in the Baltic Sea. That is near the much smaller town of Töre.
All the way north
I've got into the habit of getting two weather reports: the Norwegian one (www.yr.no) and the Swedish one (www.smhi.se). The latter can also be received on VHF, but as the aerial on the "Knipse" is not high, I rarely manage to do this. The mobile internet is much more reliable here in the coastal area, and on top of that you are not dependent on fixed broadcasting times.
I have 18 nautical miles ahead of me across the open Baltic Sea to the island of Malören. I would like to have as little wind as possible. I can't see the sun because there's a thick layer of cloud on the horizon, but an hour after midnight it's still light enough to read the nautical chart without artificial light. The wind is blowing three to four Beaufort from the north-east. The crossing is choppy as my course leads eastwards. "Knipse" has to take a few hard knocks. But after a good hour and a half, the route is mastered, even unsprung. Several beacons make it easier to enter the narrow fairway to Malören, and shortly after three I chug into the southern harbour and decide to anchor.
My rowing trip to the wooden bridge is followed with attentive eyes by an old fisherman who is sorting his nets: "Verifrån kommer du?" "Jag kommer från Tyskland". The sparse conversation that follows is about my journey so far and the little "Knipse". I walk along the sandy beach to the northern harbour, or more precisely, to the former harbour! I've never seen anything like it: The harbour, which was built into the sea with concrete blocks, has simply been completely filled in with sand and stones by the sea. It looks absolutely unreal. Some of the mounds of stones even tower over the old concrete walls. I guess the sea just didn't want a harbour here!
At last the wind is coming from the "right" direction, namely from the south-west. The light is also right: all the buoys are easy to make out. And so I surf towards Haparanda with "Knipse", while Malören slowly disappears behind the horizon.
Haparanda Hamn is a normal marina, which is boring after the picturesque moorings of the last few days. I had hoped that a bus would take me to the town 25 kilometres away. It's not supposed to be very exciting, but I could have celebrated my arrival with a good meal in a nice restaurant. Unfortunately, this is cancelled as the buses don't run at the weekend. So I finish my third and last bottle of wine and soon sink into the pillows.
Today, at midsummer, spring has definitely come to an end. Summer begins and with it the most mosquito-filled time. The days are getting shorter again. I've reached the easternmost point of my journey and it's time to think about returning. In bright sunshine, I set off for Seskarö, a fairly large island connected to the mainland by a bridge and only a few miles from Haparanda. According to my guidebook, the 700 inhabitants make their living from a huge sawmill. The jetty is quickly found.
Strengthened, I set off and find a small supermarket first. It is one of the simpler types and its range is reminiscent of a poorly stocked petrol station. The few customers are surrounded by an intense alcoholic haze - apparently the effect of heavy midsummer celebrations. I walk past the sawmill, where there are huge piles of logs. It seems to have been a while since it was felled. You can't smell any resin, there are no vehicles to be seen and the buildings make a dilapidated impression. The silence is graveyard silence: Wikipedia tells me that the mill was closed last year. Bitter!
Perhaps another reason for the alcohol haze in the supermarket. The weather forecast promises a lot of wind. No, I'm not in the mood to get caught here. I quickly change my plans and head for Töre, where there is a slipway. This is important, because "Knipse" is supposed to make the return journey by trailer.
Töre is the northernmost harbour in the Baltic Sea. To prove that you have been here, you can put a piece of paper with your boat details and home address in the letterbox on a buoy placed directly in front of the harbour. The local boat club will then make sure you get a "certificate" sent home. I make do with a photo of the buoy with its position painted on it.
WHAT SKIPPERS NEED TO KNOW
The cruise In just under 40 days I covered 812 nm in 77 engine hours and consumed 714 litres of petrol with the outboard motor.
The precinctThe north of Sweden is a world of its own that was well worth discovering. I got to know a varied coastline, where towns and villages alternate with sparsely populated or even deserted areas. With the exception of the Höga Kusten area, the coastal profile is quite flat. However, there are no dull stretches due to the archipelago off the coast in every conceivable form.
The travelling timeTravelling north in spring was one of the basic ideas, and it worked out perfectly. I was always accompanied by fresh greenery on my shore excursions, I usually had harbours and bays to myself and I experienced the longest days of the year. Another advantage of this time of year is that there are practically no or very few mosquitoes and other flying pests. I was lucky with the weather, with temperatures of up to 30 °Celsius. The periods of cool weather were extremely short. The disadvantage of travelling early is that many tourist facilities and restaurants are still closed and the water temperature is still quite fresh at 5-10 °C.
The boatThe "Knipse" is an "Alaskan Skiff" of the "Wide Body" type, which I built according to the book "Tolman Alaskan
Skiffs" by Renn Tolman. The hull shape with a very flat V goes back to the classic dorys (fishing boats). The main materials are plywood and epoxy resin, the floor assembly is made using the "stitch-and-glue" technique.
Technical data: Length: 6.50 m, width: 2.30 m, weight with engine: 850 kg, engine: 90 hp outboard from Tohatsu, built-in tanks: 2 x 90 litres.
The bookFriedhelm Würfel: Die Schwedische Bottenküste: Im Alaskan Skiff mit dem Frühling nach Norden. A travelogue, cruising guide and picture book, 176 p., numerous colour photos and plans, hardback, format: 21 x 14.8 cm, 36 E. ISBN 978-3-86805-623-5. Pro Business Verlag. www.pb-bookshop.de
Nautical literature
