Boda Kanal

Highly reliable sources tell me it is Friday.

Dah days, der runnin’ togedder a bit.  I cannot remember what day it is, but were on a boat, a tossin’ and tossin.’  It isn’t like sleep, no turning, yust tossin’!  We are crossing a big lake, bigger than Saginaga, even Mille Lacs!  I will need to look it up.  I don’t think its Lake Costa Boda, but it is on the Boda Kanal trip.  Costa Boda would be like glass.  The sea isn’t like glass.  The wind is up, 12 m/sec.  I think that translates to 27 miles per hour.  The canal is quiet and narrow in places.  This lake is the third largest in Europe.  We make land around 3 AM, so we will be rocking awhile.

Here is what it felt like when the wind was up:

Wind was up

Yesterday was travel from Oslo to Goteborg.  As it turned out, the train went as far as Trollhaten, where we switched to buses due to construction of a new double track from there to Goteborg.  Trollhatten is known for its Saab factory.  We did not have time to stop by to see if they were giving away free sample cars.  We quickly were shuttled onto buses for the last leg.  The highways are also under construction, so we got into Goteborg later than expected.  Ake (Furst) bought dinner for seven, the four of us, Ingemar and Phillip (Bergdahl).  I didn’t see if he swallowed hard or not.  It was a lovely dinner, quiet and great food.  We talked for a couple hours.  Anita had to work.  As it was, Ingemar faced a 2.5 hour drive home and Ake an hour or so.  Ake was so gracious as to walk us home to the hotel before heading out.

Suddenly it is much smoother.  But there weren’t seven short blasts followed by a long to suggest trouble and there is no water leaking in the porthole, so I don’t think we are visiting Davy Jones’ locker.  Aaaah.  We are close to shore!  It is an archipelago.  It looks exactly like the Boundary Waters.  Well, except for the cabins and the bouys and other navigation markers.  The rocks and trees and water look exactly like home.  And we assume we know why so many Scandinavians settled in Minnesota.  That, and the beautiful Swedes and Norwegians who were already there.

Wind was down

We left our very cushy hotel this morning early and in the rain, to get to our boat the Wilhelm Tham.  It’s small and old and so are the passengers.  We are the youngest passengers aboard, we assume.  Like my 87 year-old mom says, looking out of my eyes, I see like I was 24.  So perhaps we aren’t really the youngest passengers aboard.  (Oh, yes we are!)  We had fun with the Swedish chef who was our taxi driver.  She was driving taxi in Goteborg because she said her body couldn’t take the grueling routine where she worked in New York.  Now there is an odd accent!  We all know Marcus Samuelson, some better than others.

Wilhelm Tham

 The food is beautifully presented and luscious to boot.  Chuck, as the rest of us, loved the moose, but tried not to think about it.  He has a thing about moose, as many know.  So Schucky, ver do yah tink dem fancy mittens you wears comes from, anyvay?  “Yah, but der dead, den.”  “Yah,” I sess, but you don’t get dat meat by milkin’ a moose, yah know!”

Now some of us are playing cribbage (Birdie and Chuck) and the rest of us aren’t.  Birdie shows Chuck less mercy than she does me!

Ken