Carra Tidings

As the midsummer weekend ended, there was a trickle of boats out of the harbour til there were only 3 left – and tranquillity was restored. Until a sport team on a training camp had a fitness session on the dock – bare chested young men did a series of push ups, ran a circuit and had to do a few lengths in the water, one lost his shorts en route and all was on display – slightly wasted on us I fear. There was a distinct lack of effort from some. It wasn’t Army style fitness – pull up a sandbag and let me tell back in my day……

With the empty harbour we were allowed to use the spa showers. A rain shower with underfloor heating – after 6 weeks of marina showers – it was sheer luxury.

Our plan was to sail north to an island called Trysunda – a small fishing village. A cracking sail through the rocks being able to hold the same tack all the way. Sails down and we entered the small harbour. The wooden staging was built on the beach which wasn’t very reassuring from a depth point of view so as we picked up the stern buoy and Mags went forward to jump off – suddenly yelled to go back as it wasn’t deep enough. With a cross wind blowing I needed to reverse and not go over the webbing tape that was attached to the buoy and get back to the buoy for Mags to unhook us. It was a bit chaotic for a while but we managed to unhook ourselves. We decided to go in a second time without picking up the buoy but just nose in. In we went then out we went. Mags wasn’t happy with the depth. Because of the wind condition I was not able to go in gently. So we decided to abandon visiting Trysunda and find somewhere else. So we sailed south and despite being at 180 degree to our course up here, we were still into the wind. But there was a good wind and we sailed all the way. We past the hanging beach on the headland – an impressive stretch of beach all the way up the hill. However, my first though was not what a great cycling route…. more of that later.

We arrived to see White Haze already moored up. We put Carra to bed and joined Ada and Akko on board for drinks. That evening the former fishing houses of Norrfällsviken glowed in the evening light.

Plan A had been to visit another pretty little fishing village of Bönhamn – but we decided instead that we would walk round to investigate the hanging cobble beaches and to have lunch at the fire pit we had spotted, near the shore overlooking the entrance. Somehow we decided it was a good idea that to preserve Mags knees we would take her bike……

For the first couple of miles it was a good path but things took a turn for the worse when the path crossed the rock strewn shore line. I did suggest padlocking up the bike and coming back for it but Mags thought she could manage…..

We arrived at the fire pit and whilst I could pretend that I rubbed a few boy scouts together to start the fire – it was with matches, a fire lighter and incredible dry twigs that I got good a fire going. The bacon sizzled away in the pan and on the freshly baked bread we had bought that day, they tasted delicious.

We still should have turned back at this point…..

Both being rather task orientated and there was a viewing platform over the cobble beaches and come hell or high water we wanted to get to it – we carried on sharing the bike carrying. Billy goat gruff would have been happy on the mountain “path” that we had to climb – proper cairn at the top and all. Slightly embarrassed when we passed other walkers who clearly had a look of bemusement written all over their faces on seeing us carrying a bike.

The platform was impressive – how had they managed to get the wood there to build it? Now with an acute appreciation of carrying weight, we decided it must have been a helicopter. With no helicopter in site for a Brompton bike – ideal for commuting in London… we pushed on.

All the way up the hillside, right to the top, you could see the ridges that the waves and ice created. As you progressed up the hill from sea shore, to the unnaturally bright lime green algae covered rounded rocks, to areas covered with low growing plants and bog cotton, to knurled pine trees, to pine forest told the story of the gradual creation of land from the sea. It was like you were walking through time…….. with a bike!

The hanging beaches looked amazing – however if you are carrying a bike it is easy to go off them! After we had transverse three large cobble beaches, a couple more rocky escapements we finally reached the road.