Southbound Through Denmark

Position: 57°21’23.5”N 11°58’32.4”E

Despite Delta Airlines’ best efforts we arrived back in Gothenburg to find Aleta right where we had left her within an hour of our expected arrival time. A little last-minute running around and bill paying, and we were off for points south. Originally, we were heading north to take Aleta out of the European Union for 24 hours to reset her VAT clock. Norway is part of Schengen, Europe’s free movement agreement, but not part of the EU. That puts it outside all the tax regulations that require Aleta to take a day trip every 18 months to avoid import duties. Honestly, having come up with a law on importation, you think the question of how long an item must be outside the region to qualify as ‘exported’ would have been specified. It was not. A day will do. A bureaucratic error in foreigners’ favour.

No, No, Norway

But Norway lay in the wrong direction. We are heading south and getting staged for crossing back over the Atlantic. We can stop anywhere in the UK or the Channel Islands for a day or two and achieve the same end. Plus, they are on the way.

Turning south at the end of Gothenburg’s river mouth we weaved through the rocky islands and kayaks until we found clear water. There the wind stayed far enough off the bow to be useful. We threw up every sail we had, main, jib and staysail, and pulled a steady six and half knots towards our first anchorage. Sporting all new standing rigging for the first time since she left the factory meant the captain kept a watchful eye on the mast, and a trained ear out for freakish groaning from the chain plates.

Our first anchorage remains a favourite now we know exactly where to drop the hook. We even marked it on the chart so there is no debate between the foredeck crew (me) and the helmsperson (her). For reference, it’s behind Risholmen Island at: 57°21’23.5”N 11°58’32.4”E. Keen readers will recognize those coordinates from our post Leaving Landskrona.

Crossing Kattegat, the sea between Denmark and Sweden, to Anholt Island was easy enough. The day was bright and clear and our AIS was picking up tankers for 25 miles in all directions. Technically, our chartplotter does not have charts for Denmark. We were too cheap to pony up the $150 for them. Rather than sail blind, however, we stumped up $49 for a one-year Danish chart subscription on the Navionics app. The app works on our cheapo, GPS enabled Android tablet that serves as our back-up chartplotter. Velcroed to the grab handle just above the helm and plugged into a USB outlet, it works just fine. It helps that Kattegat is mostly sandbars and more than six feet deep in the middle.

Shallow

Anholt is one such sandbar. It is a low island dune, covered in dense grasses, with a long tongue that stretches a good five miles out from a splendid lighthouse. Barely a metre of water covers that tongue. It is a reminder that the entire area was a bog during the ice ages. Perhaps one of the upsides of climate change will be to make the tongue navigable and allow shortcuts to the southern side of the island.

Tossing down the anchor it grabbed on immediately. Stripping down I dived into the cool water and swam around the boat looking for obvious signs of damage. In all she looked pretty good. Back on board we watched the sun sink in glorious reds and oranges in the still of the evening. By morning, the wind had veered a little more to the west (veering = moving clockwise, backing = moving anticlockwise), making for a pleasant day’s sail.

The following morning, at our anchorage off Samsø Island, we decided to take it easy and headed towards Kerteminde Bay, about 30 miles due south. Our first challenge was weaving through a narrow channel with sketchy buoyage. But we took our tablet and soon felt better. Then the weather began closing in. Clouds and winds out of the west picked up as we crossed the gap towards Hindsholm. At 16 knots we thrummed along at 7.5 knots. In another 20 minutes the clouds bundled in kicking up spume and spray and choppy waves a metre or so in height.

Squall

Aleta can carry full sails comfortably in 16-18 knots of wind, after which we start pulling things in. The rule is reef early, reef often. Less wear and tear on the crew and the ship. Given all the distractions in the past year, we were a little rusty on that point. In 25-30 knots we hastily reeled in the jib to half her size and dropped the mainsail to her first reef, downwind. Fortunately, the wind was behind us and my safety harness still clipped into the handholds reassuringly. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked, and the rig felt strong.

The squall bore around the headland and pushed us along at eight knots for another hour before eventually petering out. Turning into the bay all was serene and calm. That is except for a hearty debate about how close to the shore we should drop the anchor. The answer was close enough for some protection and far enough away to make the captain comfortable. The anchor hooked immediately in the firm Danish sand. I like anchoring in Denmark.

That left us one more quiet anchorage before crossing the bight to Germany. Sailing under the huge bridge that links Odense and Copenhagen barely raised my heart rate. Having driven across it a few weeks ago, it was fun to see it from the underside. The weather continued cooperating and the wind backed all the way around to the east by morning giving us a straight shot to Kiel harbour. Only there was this thing that happened.

Otto and Tinman

As you know, Aleta has an autopilot. In fact, she has two: a Raymarine hydraulic one, Otto, who we use for nearshore work, and Tinman, our Monitor windvane we use for offshore work. As good practice indicates, once we set our sails we always check for weather or lee helm and fine tune the sails accordingly. No point in making the autopilot work any harder than necessary. If you really must put Aleta’s rail in the water, do it while hand steering. You’ll get an upper body workout and Otto gets weeks of additional life.

Flipping Otto off, the wheel felt lumpy and thrashed about. I swallowed. Was the steering giving out? Had the chain dropped a link? Was the cable slipping off the radial drive? On a hunch I went below. Under sail we put the gearbox into reverse to prevent the propellor freewheeling and wearing things out. Despite being in reverse the prop continued to grind away. Something big was caught around the shaft and propellor and bumping on the rudder. With fifteen knots of wind and underway at six knots, there are a lot of forces at play.

Spin Doctors

Immediately I asked Carol to put her in neutral to take the pressure off the gears and motor. Then I had her start the engine. Thankfully, we don’t have a great deal of experience snagging stuff. We spun the prop in reverse for a couple of seconds. Then we spun it forwards. Mercifully, whatever it was shook itself off and the steering returned to normal. A dip of the GoPro provided visual evidence that things were all clear below. Breathing a sigh, we got back to the hard work of sailing in a stiff breeze and warm sunshine.

Kiel lay just ahead with its wide protected bay. Once the wind dropped, we again fired up the engine and motored along for the final couple of miles to the designated anchorage opposite the canal locks. By early evening, the neighbouring rowdy party boat had left, and we swung quietly, almost alone in the cove. That gave us enough time for dinner and to rev the rules for transiting the canal.

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