2018 - Towards warmth

We feel that the Baltic and the North Sea have many advantages, but they are cold, and we like to warm up during vacations. Hence, we decide to head south. Of course, we cannot sail to Spain or Portugal in one holiday season. At least not without rushing, exploring along the way.  After years, we came to feel that in some places it was worth staying even a season or two longer. However, now we decide to head south.

We invite Kamil's parents, who also sail, to spend two first weeks of the cruise with us. Since we have a huge amount of luggage, it's cheaper for us to take a train to Szczecin, a ferry to Karlskrona, and from there buses to Asaa. The luggage is seriously heavy (among other things, we are carrying a new starter motor). 

We are already being welcomed like old friends, and people spontaneously make us different favours. We feel embarrassed—we always try to have a few Żubrówkas (vodka with bison grass – as far as we know it’s only produced in our motherland) and some Polish sweets (plums in chocolate, gingerbread cookies, fudge), which can be given as a thank-you gifts, but here we receive much more than we can repay. In winter, someone was repairing their yacht and applied gel coat to all the ‘Norwegian’ abrasions. Someone else gave us spare blades for the unusual Albin Vega propeller, which has a rarely seen reverse gear. There is no gearbox; the shaft always rotates in the same direction, and neutral and reverse are achieved by adjusting the pitch of the propeller blades. Additionally, the drawback is that the shaft cannot be stopped without turning off the engine. It is quite an unusual mechanism and difficult to repair without specific parts.

A guy who has a Polish wife drives Kamil around local hardware stores looking for kerosene, and in the end, he buys Kamilka a lovely pair of wellies. Greg, an American who moved to Denmark from California many years ago, makes us aware that fishing here we might encounter the weever fish. This fish has venomous spines. Its sting should be quickly treated with a temperature above 40 degrees (more realistically, you need to get a bit burnt for the temperature to penetrate deep). Local fishermen always take a thermos with boiling hot water with them just in case to pour on the wound. If this is not done, the hand or foot will swell terribly and hurt for many months. Knowing about the danger and having the right gloves makes it possible to catch weever fish safely. Unfortunately, Kamil doesn’t succeed in this endeavor. Greg looks through Kamils fish baits and finds some are excellent for weever, and we must have chosen the wrong place, trolling speed, or perhaps something else. Finally, Kamil gives Greg two weever baits and in return, we receive two delicious weever fish.

The week was spent preparing for the voyage and saying farewells, until it was finally time to leave our winter port. As we sailed out, harbor master Alfred waved goodbye to us from the end of the breakwater.

We planned to sail through Limfjord to the North Sea, dropping off Kamil's parents in Billund, where they had a flight home. The first night, we stayed on a designated buoy somewhere on Limfjord. The next day's forecast predicted a wind of 7B. We would not have set out to sea in that weather, especially at the start of the season. However, back when they were kids, Kamil and his brother would wait for such weather on the Masurian Lakes to practice figure-eight man overboard maneuvers in "real" conditions without restraint. So why not sail further through Limfjord, which is just a salty lake...

Regarding the figure-eight man overboard manouvres, in the lakes the boys practiced them in every possible way. In lighter winds without using the tiller, only with sails. In stronger winds, for speed, by surprise, or in any way that came to mind. With Zuza at sea, the maneuver was performed only once and fortunately in a very safe situation. With wind 5-6B blowing for a good dozen hours (so there was a definite wave), Zuza's baseball cap was blown away. We were sailing close hauled. Kamil mechanically turned to a beam reach. It is worth mentioning here, that many textbooks does not talk about steering immediately to a beam reach at the start of the figure-eight, but thanks to this the maneuver always comes out the same (the course on which it was started practically does not matter). After turning to a beam reach, Kamil mentally counts three boat lengths and simultaneously tells Zuza to get ready with the boathook. Of course, the cap is not visible in the wave. Tacking, one boat length to broad reach, sharp to a close-hauled course, two boat lengths and... There it is! The baseball cap was worth a few zlotys and during the maneuver completely tangled the fishing line, worth more than a hundred. But well, another successful jib.

In any case, with a forecast of 7B, we continued through the Limfjord. We didn't want to spend the entire day on the buoy, no one had objections to 7B wind on the "lake", and we wanted a few more days to sail with the parents on the sea. Unfortunately, the further we sailed, the stronger the wind grew. When we were already on the larger part of the Limfjord, closer to the North Sea, the forecast turned to 8B, gusting to 9B. The ports were packed to the brim, yachts were being tossed about, there was no longer any talk of safely sheltering in port without damaging our boat or a multi-million Danish beauty (back then we were still sailing without insurance). On our route insurance became mandatory and checked in every port first in Spain and Portugal. Nevertheless, we had already surveyed offers from several insurance companies before, but the prices were prohibitive for our aging yacht. Eventually someone recommended us Panteanius, which insures boats as ours at a reasonable price and offers the possibility to extend coverage to virtually any waters worldwide.

It was getting late, so we made plan A and B. For planning, paper maps came in handy. Going out to the North Sea was out of the question. Plan B was to cruise along the illuminated trail all night and wait it out. It was a last resort, and we knew it would involve incredible exhaustion. All three girls were vomiting in the cabin. Fortunately, Kamil's dad is exceptionally resistant to seasickness and could help on deck. Nevertheless, the situation was very unpleasant—when he took over the tiller because Kamil went to untangle something on the bow, they stopped seeing each other in the foaming water washing over the deck, even though Kamil was wearing bright yellow work trousers. Fortunately, plan A came through - we made it to the Veno Bugt. The entrance to the bay is unlit and not very wide. The bay is small, so there is no much wave action. At the same time, it  depth is mostly even and it is large enough to drag us for some time on the anchor if it let go. We entered the bay at deep dusk but still seeing waves breaking on the shores, which we needed to navigate between the banks. 

In the bay, as predicted, it calmed down. We dropped anchor. Tired and wet, we (including Kama, who probably never went to bed this late before) ate instant ramen. Inside the yacht, there was complete chaos. Vomiting was a smaller problem than the toilet, which returned the entire collected contents of the tank into the yacht's interior. (After that incident, we always make sure to drain it before bad weather.) Nevertheless, we were so tired that soon everyone was asleep. Falling asleep, we heard a fishing boat calling mayday on the radio. It was sinking, taking on water. It was chilling to hear speaker’s calmness and clarity when he reported the subsequent digits of its position in these conditions, simultaneously informing that the boat would stay afloat only for a few minutes. 

In the morning, the anchor held us where it had been dropped. Many more times we experienced how effective a plow anchor with a piece of chain on a nylon line is. If it does not hit a "sea lettuce" field, it grips sand, gravel, and mud effectively.. This time it wasn't crucial, but one of the most important things on a yacht is a reliable anchor. The only problem to which no anchor is entirely resistant is light shifting winds or tides when the moving yacht may entangle the anchor with the chain. But more on that later. 

After the storm on Limfjord, it was time to clean the yacht. 

The remainder of the cruise proceeds smoothly. We pass through Hvide Sande and visit Esbjerg.

We are touring the city festively decorated for the Tall Ships Races, saying goodbye to Kamil's parents, and sailing to Helgoland. These are tidal waters now, so we need to start considering currents when planning routes. For the first time, they showed their strength when we tried to navigate between two of the Frisian Islands. We were sailing with the wind at our back, observing a stationary navigational buoy on our traverse, tilted by the wind. We stood like this for several hours until the current began to change direction.

For now, we are enjoying the weather - it is really warm, the Frisian Islands have great golden beaches where we love to relax. 

We particularly like Sylt. On the other hand, Helgoland makes quite an amazing impression - vertical cliffs with little growing on them, and only huge colonies of gannets.

We are slowly leaving Germany and entering the Netherlands. We are making  thirty-hour leap from Helgoland to Vieland. It’s long for our standards but allows us to bypass the Elbe estuary. 

On site, we take a series of walking tours around the city and the dunes. Kama is already too big for a stretchy wrap, so we switch to a woven one, allowing the little one to still ride on our backs.

In the port, bicycles with child seats are also available for rent - we take advantage of this opportunity, allowing us to take a further trip around the area. 

We also visit the island of Texel. Rested, we head to Den Helder where we explore the Dutch Navy Museum and continue to IJmuiden. On this stretch, we encounter a truly dangerous situation.  Generally in this regions storms are possible almost daily in summer. Just before leaving the port, heavy rain fell, but without fierce wind gusts. The sky was grey to the horizon, the clouds were low, often drizzled, so we didn’t see a cumulonimbus approaching. We set sail towards IJmuiden. Wind 3-4B, so we had a relaxed on-board life, not anticipating difficult times. As we ate lunch, Kamil occasionally glanced at the container ship sailing parallel to us behind his back. At a certain moment, the ship disappeared. Only the grey horizon is visible. What the heck? It didn't sink so quickly, did it? It was there, wasn't it? Suddenly, Kamil realizes what's happening. A white wall of foam is approaching us very quickly. Zuza grabs Kama. Kamil managed to release the main, but didn't reach the jib sheet. The ballasted yacht hits the water with the boom in a second, laid by the jib alone. The sail creaks. The cockpit is full and water begins to pour through the companionway inside. Kamil grabs onto something and loosens the jib. We're still hitting the water with the boom, and water is pouring inside. There's almost no wave, but the wind is rotational and evidently pushes us down. In the companionway, Zuza stands on the stovetop, on the wall that is usually vertical but is now almost horizontal. She holds Kama and a set of life jackets. It all happened so quickly that we didn't have time to panic, moreover, the fact that we had rescue equipment comforted us, and the shore was within sight, no more than 2 miles from us, with the wind. We would have swum there... But this was probably the only moment so far when we both thought that Stubborn might not sail further. With both sails loosened, the yacht was beating them against the water and didn't want to point, and water was pouring inside. In case of unforeseen situations, a man overboard, or who knows what, we always carry the engine key in the ignition, ready to start immediately. It remained a few centimeters above the water's surface. Kamil turned the key, the engine started, and we managed to get to close-hauled. Then another 7 minutes of wind fury, but we saw it would be OK. And then again at 3-4B we sailed to IJmuiden.

There, we met a sailor who was testing a new sports yacht alone. He was cleaning everything and, like us, was shocked in his own way. A mayday remained active on the radio, someone disappeared from the deck in this storm and wasn't found by evening. To cool off a bit after the hard events, we head out into the town.

From IJmuiden, we sail up the river to Amsterdam. The marina is close to the city center. Some enterprising sailors tried subletting bunks on their boats on AirBnB, which was not met with understanding from locals, and we are warned that doing so could get you expelled from the marina. We absolutely don't intend to do so and, being ‘proper’ tourists, set out to explore. Zuza loves the combination of a large number of canals and bike paths. Kamil also has a fondness for this city, having visited it many times during his high school and college years, including by bike.

The city is very crowded because a Gay Pride parade is planned for the next day. We watch it together with Małgosia and Piotrek, who have been living in the Netherlands for many years and are visiting us in Amsterdam. They are an extremely pleasant company and a source of lots of interesting information about the whole country and its capital. The parade is impressive, and what surprises us is that the atmosphere is actually picnic-like - families with children stroll along the canals and admire the floating platforms. 

The crews of the boats moored to the banks of the canals also participate in the celebrations and decorate their vessels with rainbow flags and balloons. 

Gosia and Piotrek suggest that it is worth visiting the open-air museum near the Vollendam anchorage and seeing what traditional houses in these areas looked like.

 We also visit an exhibition dedicated to cheese-making - we observe step by step the stages of production of this traditional local specialty.

We meet again with Małgosia and Piotrek. They invite us for a traditional local snack - kibbeling (pieces of cod breaded and deep-fried). This dish is usually eaten with hands, so practical Dutch install publicly accessible sinks for hand washing at the fried fish stalls.

To travel deeper into the country, we need to head back to the capital. 

Opening the bridges too frequently in a city as large and busy as Amsterdam would block vehicular and pedestrian traffic, which is why mast units that want to head south all gather at midnight and pass through the city together in a convoy. 

We are setting off in a group of several dozen boats. At this time of year, there are so many people interested in passing through the city that sometimes one has to wait a few rounds before the yacht can fit into the lock filled to the last centimeter. Beyond the city, the boats slowly begin to split and settle down for the night. The morning is cloudy and rainy, and we are tired after the night escapade, so although we initially planned to find some free mooring spot, after passing several already occupied by other yachts, we pull into Otto's marina and go to sleep. The night parade of yachts through the canals of Amsterdam leaves an unforgettable impression for a long time. 

Cruising in the Netherlands is significantly different from what we usually do on a boat. The sails are set aside, and we motor through the canals as if we were driving a car on the road.

The views are diverse - sometimes fields, sometimes small towns, sometimes home gardens with a dug-out parking space for a motorboat as if it were a place for a car by the roadside. 

Sometimes, towns are situated in depressions on land reclaimed from the sea, with canals running above, so that the yacht's deck is located above the roofs of houses, which gives a particularly surreal impression. 

The saying that God gave people the land, but the Dutch took it themselves, does not seem like an exaggeration. The scale of land reclamation in this country was so great that an entire province lies on land that was drained. A byproduct of this process was the development of the dairy industry - the drained land was initially too salty to cultivate more demanding crops, so grass was allowed to grow and cows were grazed on it. This led to a surplus of milk and its products on the market. Durable cheeses often ended up on ships, but the local population also began to consume a lot of dairy products. Some scientists suspect that this contributed to a situation where the Dutch began to grow faster than natural selection would allow, and from being one of the shortest nations in Europe, they became the tallest in the world.

When sailing in the Netherlands, in many places one can moor a yacht for free for 48 hours.

Staying overnight at a small picnic harbor we encounter locals collecting mussels. They show how to identify the right species, check if they are good, and cook them. Collecting is not particularly pleasant - one hangs from the pier and detaches clusters of mussels that grow on submerged parts of the piles. Nevertheless, Kamil heads into the water and soon returns with a bucket full of shells. They go straight into the pot, and thus, we have an unexpected posh dinner.

In Gouda, a yacht can temporarily park by the canal in the very center of the city. Although passersby peek at one's plate, it's free and located in a very convenient spot for walking. We explore the old town and buy incredibly delicious cheese from a local producer's stall.

From the historic Gouda, we sail through Krimpen to Rotterdam. This city has a completely different, more modern, yet also cool vibe. 

For some time, the alternator excitation current controller has been broken. The weather was cloudy, so the photovoltaic panel wasn't working. When we weren't docking in ports and were instead staying at free wharves, the battery would start running out of power every two days. Taking advantage of our stay in Rotterdam, besides sightseeing, we looked for shops with electronic components to fix the controller. It turned out that all the ones we visited were permanently closed. The niche for selling components for hobbyist electronics has been entirely filled by online stores. Of course, we didn't want to waste a week waiting for ordered parts. So Kamil came up with the idea to make a charging controller from a USB charger. The output current of the charger is sufficient to cover the excitation current of our alternator. All that was needed was to change the resistive divider so the charger would try to maintain a charging voltage of 13V instead of 5V. The divider was connected to the battery voltage, while the charger output was connected to the alternator excitation winding. This controller, made from the charger, was sealed with epoxy adhesive and has been working perfectly to this day.

In the Netherlands, we saw the most interesting practices regarding solo yacht parking. The local skippers gracefully approach the quay with large, old North Sea style yachts (often without bow thrusters), park and are sometimes surprised that a neighbour comes out to help with the lines, which is customary in our country and many other places.

At the beginning, during the maneuver of approaching the port alone, the electric autopilot is set. When it maintains the course, the helmsman has time to lower the sails, hang fenders, scout the approach with binoculars, and prepare the lines. Always four mooring lines are prepared, bow and stern on each side. They are first secured, passed through the fairlead, and then under the guardrail (the way they will work after mooring). Then, over the guardrail, they are again passed back onto the deck and arranged, with the end of the line hung on the guardrail so it is within reach for the person on the quay. This allows, after approaching the dock, to quickly secure the bow and stern without the help of others (always starting from the critical line for stopping the yacht if it is drifted by wind or current). Moreover, well-prepared lines do not get tangled.

Our voyage is slowly coming to an end. This time the boat will remain in Strijensas - a large port inland. The location is completely isolated, but thanks to that, we have a very professionally parked yacht for 700EUR/year.

Satisfied and full of impressions, we head home. From Strijen, we reach Amersfoort, where we stay overnight in an Airbnb. This is our first experience with this platform, and we are super positively surprised. 

We are staying in a charming little room in a townhouse. Local beer is waiting for us in the fridge along with information on what is worth seeing in the area - and a lot is happening because the street theater festival is ongoing in the city.

What a pity that we have to leave the next day. 

We board the train to Berlin, wait there for an hour, and transfer to the Berlin-Warsaw line, reaching home without further adventures.