Another harbour that we have never known.
Teløysundet, Fitar. 59.56,180'' N 05.15,686 E. At last, this morning, moored in Agahamn on Bømlo’s eastern shore, we put our heads up trough the hatch with great satisfaction. Already the sun has risen over the hillside at the eastern shore and now lights up the whole cove. A warm and sunny day is on its way, and frankly – the last couple of weeks there hasn’t been too many of them. Changing weather gives the west coast much of it freshness, the landscape constantly being purified by rain and windy weather, but of course, if the bikini line marks no change of skin colour even in July, at least the feminine part of the crew starts to mope a bit. It is decided, therefore, that no long-lasting macho expedition is allowed today. Nothing shall “spoil” this promising day, reserved – I understand – for doing little more than lying somewhere on a rock slope, sunbathing, reading, sipping at a cooled off beer. All the same, a day is long-lasting after all, and we decide to sail towards Fijar as planed. With the help of a harbour-guide and the chart, we already have spotted a tiny promising cove in Teløysundet. It’s not more than approximately six nautical miles to the north, but the route still seems to offer some challenges with its narrow passages trough a complicated web of islets.
Fitjar islands: Inlets and narrow passages everywhere.
Landscape and maritime culture.
After breakfast and the compulsory radio listening, we weigh anchor and immediately enjoy a gentle breeze from northwest. With a little luck, the outboard will be asleep the whole day. After rounding the southern point of Ålforo, the margins soon get narrow, though. Now our bearing is north, and we sail as close to the wind as old Maritornes accepts without turning sour. Constantly occupied by trimming her sail, we slowly enters Engesundsleia, east of Ålforo and soon we are devoured by a sound, leading us into these incredible skerries. Every second cable length, we catch sight of beautiful anchorage, islets where you can spend the whole day all on your one, or small sheltered coves with inviting rock slopes. Again and again we are tempted to anchor, but partly due to the challenge of sailing trough these sounds, our tiny expedition goes on. In the narrow Smedasundet, a contercurrent cries for the outbord, but the skipper doesn’t want to break the quietude, and instead asks the second mate to hunt high and low for the paddles. A passing cabin cruiser gazes at us with astonishment as we paddle our way, but after a thrilling minute in the current, the sound opens up and the wide Fonnosen offers a steadier breeze. Overconfident for a while, we now tackle trough the crooked Teløysundet (overhead cable 19 m.), steer clear of a underwater rock like a piece of cake, turn towards port, and there we are, again we slip into a wondrous natural harbour that we have never known.
This day we did "nothing".
A Swedish sailboat is already swinging at anchor in the cove. Now the husband and wife on board put their pants decently on, and don’t seem to appreciate our arrival too much, although our intention is not to disturb at all. A quarter of an hour later, we are the ones enjoying the solitude, quietude, the sun and the light breeze from the sea embracing our still pale, but heat-seeking skin.
(Please update or give your comment on this posting, including errors and idiomatic blunders.)
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