TripSailor.com® Sailing Blogs

Ystad was only a stop for one night, as the westerlies were getting closer, so it was another early start, away from the dormant larger boats, and out into a very uncomfortable sea. Bearing in mind that yesterday had been almost millpond smooth, it was a mystery where all those wave had come from, in several directions at once. We bobbed, we rolled, we pithched, we jerked this way and that, and Rorbert, the autopilot, just couldn’t cope, even though the beam wind blew us along at an adequate speed. So I steered. It gets both boring, and tiring, to try and hold a straight course under such conditions and after six hours it was a relief to enter the Falsterbo Canal and calm water.

We were very lucky to arrive just as the bridge at the north end of the canal opened, and then there we were, only lunchtime (though lateish), and out into the Öresund. Southerly wind still, and getting up, so why stop? Dragør is only a few hours away. Sunshine. Calm water, no waves. Go!

Past 48 windmills to port, all except one doing their thing. Denmark is a pioneer in windpower, and there are many to be seen, almost eveywhere. If If the charts are recent, or updated, you could almost navigate by them! They all have a red light on top, so must be very visible at night.

Past and through the traffic lanes, (to and from the Baltic, buzy), sharp lookout needed and choose a good-size gap. Big boats make big wash. We bounced again.

South of the Øresund Bridge. A very impressive piece of civil engineering, Motorway and rail.  From the Danish side, near the Kastrup airport, first a tunnel to a man-made island, Pepperholm, (the natural one just to the north is called Saltholm!), then a bridge on legs before the suspension spans in the middle, then more on legs over to the Swedish sid near Malmø.

Approaching Dragør, it was obviously time for a lot of other boats to end their sailing day, as there was almost a queue to enter the harbour and find a slot. We all backed and filled until for me, someone shouted ’over there, ignore the red sign’. Josin just fitted between the stern-posts, and we were docked. Helpful people having a friday evening party on board the boat to port, and unhelpful people having a louder party to starboard. I wandered over to pay my dues at the harbourmaster’s. Lots of people, both sitting and standing, mostly with a plastic beaker of beer in a hand. Red T-shirts proclaimed that it was Dragør Music Festival in white lettering. Large temporary stage with enormous loudspeakers promised decibels. Beer-wagons both here and there. Stomach sizes confirmed that the Dames like their beer. ‘Probably the best…...’ etc.

I was awakened from my well-earnd zizz by someone testning the sound quality, and strength. Boded ill for a quiet evening. Sure enough, bands of varying ability played. The strength of the bass sounds dominating, together with distorted-guitar vibrations, and of course ‘lyrics’ in english. (not English). So I went for a long and exploratory walk. Out to the old fortress with a fantastic view, and then through the narrow cobbled streets of the old town. Very intimate, and flowers growing out of pots on the ‘pavement’

Next day, slightly overcast and no wind, typical pre-frontal conditions, I took the bus/train in to Copenhagen, to buy shoes… its a long story why…. Felt claustrophobic amongst the myriads of saturday wanderers, so having found one pair but failed with the other, I travelled back to Dragør, where the music had not yet started, but the beer drinking had. Everybody happy. More wandering before the sound-storm.

Danes are good at bicycling as well as beer-drinking. Thought the attached picture was appropriate:

Southwest, strong wind forecast for tomorrow. Northwards, here we come!