2017 - Colors of Norway

In December, our daughter Kamilka is born. After what we saw in Sweden and Denmark, we know that with such a child we can easily sail, so we plan another trip - a loop around Norway. Stubborn gets two important pieces of equipment - radar and AIS.

AIS is a device that displays the positions and speed of nearby vessels on the map. It operates on the principle that ships equipped with this device send each other information about GPS position, course, speed, size, etc., on designated VHF radio channels. Importantly, all "working" ships, therefore large and potentially extremely dangerous in the event of a collision, must have AIS. Kamil decided on a Matsutec brand device - its main advantage is that it has high-quality world maps installed (although AIS information is always checked on paper maps).

Since Zuza is on maternity leave and Kamil works remotely, the plan is to set sail according to the weather. The decision is to depart around mid-June to take advantage of the long days. The journey begins from Warsaw in a car packed to the brim with food and diapers—Denmark was already quite expensive for groceries, and Norway is even worse in this regard. To "compress" the supplies instant potato puree dishes are poured into bottles and will be prepared in metal cups on the boat.

In the harbour, we find the boat on the water and in good condition. To prevent interior dampness, as happened in Łeba, three buckets with dehumidifiers were left inside before departure. The dehumidifiers lay in the middle on a perforated tarp sheet that covered the bucket, forming a sort of funnel (secured to the bucket's edge with duct tape). The idea was that the dehumidifier collected moisture from the air and then released it onto the sheet. The water drips through the hole into the bucket and doesn't evaporate from there. The method worked well, but the amount of water was surprising - about 15 liters in total. An added advantage was that when the bucket was full, the water flooded the dehumidifier on the sheet, stopping its function and preventing overflow of the bucket. Another time, when the yacht was on land, a dehumidifier left in the sink leaked, causing the chemicals in the water to damage the antifouling paint at the bottom. Thus, the bucket and sheet solution is used to this day. 

We still need to set the mast. Taking advantage of its removal, steps are mounted for climbing. Past situations proved the value of having them. However, once installed, they inconveniently snagged on the halyards, especially when loosened ropes were blown by the wind and working on the mast was challenging due to swaying. We saw the solution in France. By stretching thin lines between the mast steps and the shrouds, dividing the rigging into the stern and bow sides, ropes are prevented from wrapping around the mast and catching the steps.

We place Kamilka’s pram bassinet in our berth - at night she will sleep with us - and during the day we arrange her playpen in the saloon. We block one of the berths with a stormboard purchased in Kołobrzeg and set up something like a small seat from packs of diapers that came with us. Toys also end up in the pen.

June 19, we set off from Asaa to Skagen. There, we wait for good weather and three days later, we sail to Hunnebostrand in Sweden. We wonder how Kamilka will handle seasickness. It turns out, what we we read is true, infants don't experience it. Later, we discover that precisely speaking, as long as she is breastfed, she doesn't have any discomfort even on rough waves, but if she eats something else, she might vomit. Since we're just starting the adventure of dietary expansion, the problem turns out to be marginal. The next day, we make another hop to Stavern. Along the way, Kamil manages to catch a salmon. For the next two days, we eat this delicious fish for almost every meal - hot, cold, and in sandwiches.

We are greeted by views typically associated with Norway - rugged rocks and small, red and white houses.

The great advantage of sailing in this country is the possibility of 'wild parking' in coves by the cliffs. We had the publication "Havneguiden", a four-volume atlas, which helps find mooring spots, often with convenient access to land. We loved this way of parking.

It is relatively easy to stop at the cliffs (although caution is needed against rock shelves just below the water's surface). At times, ready-to-use rings or bollards for mooring are visible on the rock walls. It's helpful to have a few of your own hooks to drive into rock crevices, use a spare anchor (taken ashore and secured in the rocks), or moor to trees with long ropes. 

It is more difficult to park in some rocky coves where reaching the right spot requires a bit of very precise maneuvering. Once, this led to an unpleasant situation. We were parking in such a cove, there was some wind but without significant waves. Engine on, slowly, wearing polarized sunglasses, we searched for the right spot. Suddenly, we got entangled in such a way that rocks appeared on every side, and we hit one with the keel. We immediately shut off the engine to avoid damaging the propeller and unfurled the jib. The skills gained in Masuria helped. For a moment, we heeled the yacht using the sail and our body weight, then tacked in another direction and managed to free ourselves and soon safely parked.

Norway is strikingly beautiful, but by our standards, a bit cold. Our Swedish boat was prepared for such a possibility - it has a tent that hangs on the boom and stretches over the cockpit - a good solution during rain or slightly cooler weather. Stubborn is also equipped with Webasto, but we used it very rarely because it consumes a lot of power (theoretically Webasto is diesel-powered, but it consumes 6A at startup, and after the glow plug is heated, 3A continuously to power the fan. As a result, it can be safely used when the engine is running or the boat is connected to electical grid).

In Stavern, we come across Jonsok - Midsummer Night Festival. In Norway, the significance of this celebration is comparable to Christmas. Boats decorated with green branches and flags, and a raft with a barbecue on have taken over the bay. For us it was sweater-and-jacket weather, but the undeterred descendants of Vikings sat on the raft in swimwear, occasionally jumping into the water.

We visit the town of Stavern itself and take a walk around the area. In the forest, we come across a peculiar monument in the form of a naval mine and a mysterious granite pyramid.

As we explore successive coves, we are captivated by the silence, tranquility, and beautiful nature. We really like the tourist infrastructure. On the uninhabited islets, there are small piers, often also latrines and garbage bins. It may not seem like much, but it greatly facilitates and enhances the sailing experience.

Kamilka seems very happy with the cruise - if the weather is better, we lay a blanket in the cockpit and let her crawl there; if it's worse, she sits with Zuza in her berth. If she wants to see the dad, she calls 'pap, pap!' and Kamil, who steers on such days, peeks into the companionway. Over time, the young one discovers that she can pull herself up and stand by the board - from then on, she often stands and observes what are we doing or rummages in the sink. One day, while we are having lunch, she manages to get her leg over the stormboard and gets outside. The floor is a meter away, so she would certainly have hurt herself, but luckily Zuza reaches out in time and catches the child in a plate full of pasta. From then on, Kamilka sits in her berth in a harness tied with a line to the handrail - she has freedom of movement, and we are more at ease knowing she won't fall out. 

Similarly, we sometimes go out onto the deck in suspenders.

Sometimes, even if the weather is not very nice, the whole family sits in the cockpit and admires the views. The daughter  likes her little life vest and sits calmly on the condition that Zuza holds her on her lap and sings. In fact, Zuza is completely deprived of vocal talent and has a limited repertoire. During the cruise, she managed to recall not only a series of sea shanties, rock classics, tourist songs, and even old army songs that she learned in elementary school.

On June 28, we arrive in Mandal, a relatively large town by Norwegian standards, where we replenish our water and food supplies. We find bread at a very attractive price as for the local conditions. It turns out that the government subsidizes certain basic foodstuffs, but they are hard to come by because migrants (including Poles) buy up the supplies and freeze them. We spend 3 days in Mandal and then move on. We are feeling more confident sailing along the rocky shores now. Initially, while sailing in Norway, we carefully analysed every spot on the maps of those areas (there are many underwater rocky spikes). After some time, we got accustomed to the fact that when we sail relatively far from the shore, there are no threats. We sailed leisurely, had lunch, and fished, until we noticed waves oddly standing still in one place ahead of us. We immediately tacked, glanced at the map, and of course, we were heading straight for the rocks. From then on, we tried never to miss such a thing again.

On an islet of small archipelago, we encounter whole fields of chanterelles. The forest floor was completely yellow. We pick 2 kg and stop because we wouldn't have been able to eat or process more. To be safe, we consult with locals from a neighboring yacht to confirm if they are indeed edible mushrooms we know from Poland. The locals confirm and are not at all surprised by the staggering abundance of nature's gifts. After a short conversation, they invite us over, and that's how we meet the Nyborgs. He is a veterinarian, and she is a special education teacher. We talk about life in Norway, about sailing with children (their youngest ones, twins, took their first voyage at 7 days old—the weather was very good, and for the father, it was easier to manage the other five older children that way, and the mother didn't mind where the little ones lay).

Mr. Nyborg assures us that the local farmed salmon are really healthy—a few years earlier, they had been decimated by a virus and it turned out that they couldn't be vaccinated, and the only solution was to provide them with a lot of space and generally good living conditions—only then do the fish not get infected so easily. Mrs. Nyborg continues the work of her in-laws and promotes the concept teaching model. By working with these methods, they achieve really good results with both developmentally challenged and healthy children. The entire program with ready-made lesson plans is available online—they only want a clear indication of its origin and who created the method. A few years later, I received information that their work is gaining recognition in Poland as well—a book called Easy Math based on this method appeared on the market.

On July 11, we reach Stavanger. The weather is quite typical for a Norwegian summer, +15 degrees Celsius and rain. Undeterred, we go for a walk in the city and then to the Norwegian Petroleum Museum (Norsk Oljemuseum). It shows in a very interesting way how the oil fields were discovered, how the industry developed, and how it impacted the entire society, which, since the discovery of the Ekofisk fields in 1969, has undergone significant changes. 

We also visit a museum dedicated to canned sardine factories. Subsequent European wars drove the demand for canned fish, Norwegian waters rich in resources supplied the raw material, so the industry flourished. 

The next important point of the tour program is Lysefjord and the excursion to the famous viewpoint Prestikolen. The fjord itself is already spectacular. 

The boat was safely moored at the bottom, and we set off into the mountains. Generally, we never used a stroller on trips; we carried Kama in a sling. This method worked very well for us.

The road to the mountain was steep, but it was worth it. Even though the day was cloudy, the view was spectacular.

While traveling through the fjords, we made two important discoveries related to electronics. After installing the radar, we played around with it a bit and found that it consumed a lot of energy, and we thought it wouldn't be useful. In Norway, there's almost no night, so we wondered when we would need it. However, it turned out to be useful after all. One day, it was foggy from the morning, yet visibility was reasonable. However, as we entered another fjord, a thick fog rolled in, as dense as milk. We couldn't even see the bow of our eight-meter yacht. And at that moment, the AIS broke down (it later turned out that it had a poorly soldered cable to the GPS antenna connector, which hadn't shown any issues earlier). It seems that Chinese AIS systems aren't the best quality, but that moment we could do nothing about it. We were already approaching the fjord, surrounded by many rocky spires and ridges. We lost visibility, and foghorns were the only thing we could hear around us. We could continually analyze our position on the map using the GPS on our mobile phone, but naturally, we also turned on the radar. Not only we could we see all other vessels, but it also allowed us to quickly orient ourselves on the paper map based on bearings and distances to the characteristic shoreline. That day, it proved invaluable.

Our AIS turned out to have one more flaw - after a while, we realized that we saw all units, but no one saw us, nor were we on the websites monitoring ship traffic. AIS was supposed to have a transmission option, everything could be configured and enabled in the menu, but it didn't transmit. In some port where we were to pick up a spare engine for the electric autopilot (it burned out when the autopilot was working in about 7B winds), we bought an additional longer, better antenna. But we still weren't visible. Eventually, Kamil disassembled the AIS. A burnt choke was immediately noticeable. We didn't carry a soldering iron back then, so Kamil somehow soldered a similar choke (made from a piece of copper wire) using a heated nail. Unfortunately, circuit measurements with a simple multimeter showed a short circuit in the power transistor. That transistor was not removable with a regular soldering iron (surface-mounted) and most importantly, it was unrealistic to buy a replacement nearby. Kamil, basically for confirmation that it was burnt, applied voltage directly from the battery to it. Something smoked from under the transistor. So, it was clear, there would be no transmission. After assembling the AIS, it turned out that we did appear on the websites. The diagnosis was that there must have been a short circuit under the transistor from copper on a poorly made printed circuit board, which managed to burn out, and the equipment started transmitting. The following year, we brought a small hot air soldering iron and spare transistors, but the "repaired" AIS in Norway transmits until today without issues.

In subsequent years, we also worked on the range. An antenna impedance meter appeared on board. We initially matched the impedance by mounting a matching network from sections of coaxial cable. The following season, an adjustable circuit, consisting of coils and adjustable capacitors, was already present. Soldering irons appeared on board too - gas, 12V, 230V, a 230V hot air blower, and a supply of basic electronic components.

In general, electronics on a yacht is incredibly convenient and makes life easier, but it requires electricity. On Stubborn, the installation dates from the seventies, which means it has a standard regulator for the alternator (automotive, previously installed on yachts). This type of regulator regulates the aloternator excitation relative to the voltage in the system (there is no current measurement). When the charging voltage is set too low, under load it doesn't provide a sufficiently large current to charge the battery and simultaneously power the radar. Conversely, when the charging voltage is set too high, it generates a very high current on a deeply discharged battery and causes damage (that's how we lost a brand new gel battery). In our situation, the workaround turned out to be inserting a large resistor and an anti-parallel large diode. This is not an optimal solution (like today's battery management and charging systems), but for many subsequent years, it proved sufficient and works to this day.

At the next stop, we see many empty oyster shells in the water. Further observations lead us to conclude that someone found and feasted on them here. We decide to look around too and come across a small oyster bed. We aren't brave enough to eat them in the classic way - live with a bit of lemon - but Uncle Google states that oysters can also be consumed hot. So we cook a pot and devour them. Indeed, fresh ones are delicious.

The fish-rich waters of Norway attract anglers from all over Europe, as a great number of often large fish can be caught here. Kamil is very proud and happy when he reels in a huge cod. 

His face turns pale when he guts the fish. There are some red worms in the meat. He cuts out the infected sections and makes curry from the rest, but eats it alone because Zuza firmly refuses to try the infected fish. In the next catch, Kamil decides on something safer - smaller baits allow him to catch mackerels (the bait can't be too big, literally just a few strands of thread, a colored bead, etc.). However, when gutting, it turns out they have worms again, this time small white ones curled like serpents. Not in the meat, but on the internal organs. To avoid wasting so many caught fish that no one wants, we get a crab trap. According to what the store seller claims, they can be caught in certain places so as not to interfere with lobster breeding. We find a spot that looks promising, put mackerel in the trap as bait and set the snares. We throw it in the afternoon so the crabs have all night to get inside. Regulations state that such a trap must be set at the appropriate depth (due to lobster protection). We don't have the right buoy to mark the line, so we tie a plastic floating paddle left by the previous yacht owners and happily go to sleep. In the morning, we discover that strong wind and waves during the night have moved our trap farther from shore and we can’t see the paddle-buoy anymore. Kamil can't accept the loss and starts retracing yesterday's route from the AIS and circles the spot where the trap was dropped in ever-widening circles until he thinks he sees the outline of the paddle underwater (the water is very clear, but numerous jellyfish make the search difficult). He jumps in and dives into the icy North Sea. He manages to reach the paddle and pull it onto the boat. We also retrieve the trap. It turns out that the sacrifice paid off - we have 13 large crabs.

We cook them and then pick them apart. As the crustaceans are large, their shells are already thick. To get to the meat, we have to crush the hard claws and legs with pliers. We don't disdain the brown meat from the shell either. Then, using a bent wire, we scoop out the edible parts from the crushed shell. Since we don't have a refrigerator, the operation cannot wait. We shell the crabs until midnight, illuminating our workspace with a kerosene lamp. 

As a result, we have about a kilogram of crab meat, and for the next day and a half, it reigns on our table - it appears in various forms at every meal.

In one of the ports, Kamil talks to a fisherman gutting fish about worms. It turns out that the fish get infected by eating krill, and practically all of them have it. In industrial conditions, they are cut out of the meat, but freezing or cooking also neutralizes them, so the locals don't worry about it at all. We decided to do as Romans do and the fish return to our table. Fresh mackerels are delicious. 

On the way, our starter broke down. The engine can be started with a crank - an old reliable design. Fortunately, a second, additional alternator is working (the starter usually charges the batteries after the engine starts). This turns out to be important because the engine is cooled with glycol through a heat exchanger, which reduces scale buildup in the engine. An electrical system failure results in the rapid boiling of glycol, which has happened several times. The ultimate solution would be to connect a cooling water hose directly to the engine, but this time the cooling is working, and there is no need for that.

The journey was long and interesting, but the days are getting shorter and the temperatures are not being kind - it's high time to return. We sail through the Kattegat, landing again in Denmark and on August 16, we arrive at the hospitable Asaa. This time, we approached our port at night. No wind, no waves, with a familiar beacon. Despite the shoals, there was complete calm. This lulled our vigilance, and as we approached the dock, we knocked the navigation lamp against a wooden bollard, commonly used for stern mooring lines in Scandinavian ports. We dented the lamps several more times in various situations. Simply put, the protruding plastic lamps are not suitable for mounting on the bow of an Albin Vega. Only small, steel, original lamps work there, which after several years, and damaging several plastic lamps, Kamil finally refurbished, sealed, and returned to their place.