Across the far north sea
Sailing across to Norway is something Shetland yachts do almost as regularly as South Coast ones go to France, so when Joe said “How about Lofoten?” I said yes straightaway. The other crew member aboard Joe’s Contessa 32, Cynara of Arne, was Graham Sutherland. Our original plan was to go up the west coast of Shetland, past Britain’s last island of Muckle Flugga and directly to Lofoten – a five-day journey. The forecast gave us a southerly wind, Force 4 or 5, but with bad weather coming, so we had to make it to Norway before it arrived. It turned out to be our first wrong forecast.
We motored northwards through rain, and at last met a very nice breeze – in the wrong direction – meaning we’d miss the Flugga tide. We had three nights in Shetland, waiting for a better forecast, but still hoped to make landfall on the Norwegian coast to the north of Stad (also known as Statt or Stadlandet), the headland, or ‘corner’ that juts out of the middle of Norway. Stad is so notorious for bad tides that the town of Måløy runs an escort service around it.
At last the threatened low diminished to an area of Force 5, with a pinpoint of Force 6 off the Norwegian coast, and we set off.
It was the most beautiful morning. The wind was pleasantly cool on my face, and there was nothing but horizon ahead. Thirty miles offshore we met four dolphins, flashing grey beneath the surface then bursting a sickle fin and shining back through the waves. Later we came through a flock of sleeping gannets, their grey beaks tucked under wings.
By teatime we were out of radio range. Shetland had dwindled to a grey shadow, the same colour as the thickening clouds above it. After tea we began watches.
With darkness the wind picked up a little, and we forged along under main only, with one reef in. Oil rigs glittered neon-orange up on the horizon.
At midnight it was
