Confined off Krokholm

There is no wind and we are bored. We motored to a very lovely and protected inlet bay this morning between Krokholm and the rather uninspiringly named Säck. That took us until 9am. Then we went for a walk, and Wolfgang very daringly swam in the kind of temperatures that only Scandinavians and Russians regard as tempting (he didn’t stay in for long; I barely had time to grab the camera to record his heoric deed for posterity before it was all over). Apparently there is a farm shop somewhere on the island with an accompanying bakery, but I’m buggered if we can find it. Also, whoever was responsible for recharging batteries while we had access to electricity – the distribution of responsibilty is unclear – forgot to recharge the camera battery, so it’s entirely possible that you will be spared the sight of Wolfgang’s mortified flesh being heaved out of the water for another couple of days, by which time it will no longer be relevant.

Aha, the battery has held out for longer than I feared! Behold Akka in part of the bay and a playhouse smothered in wild roses.

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Also Oma on a rock; Wolfgang having a sit-down;

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Proof of Wolfgang’s (fool)hardiness.

 

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