My trip to Grinda had been the highlight of the holiday so far, so I fancied another island trip just before I left the country, and Fjärdlång seemed like an even more remote place I could still get to within a reasonable time and have a good long walk around.

The journey over was encouraging, as large numbers of people got off the ferry on one of the bigger islands, and just me and one other couple were left being deposited on the pier for this place. We still eyed each other with a certain amount of disappointment though - so close to being entirely alone!

That's what I thought anyway. There was still the curiosity of the two apparent settlements on the coasts of the island, without paths marked on the map! I was very curious about those little collections of buildings, but from my rendering of the map I was using the wrong name ("Katskallen") to look them up so they remained mysterious, and even with the right names I still can't work out whether there are any people living there, or just visitors. Or why the paths didn't actually go there!

The start of the day was the best bit. I ran into lots of spider webs as I started the southern part of the Archipelago Trail, but that was actually a good thing: a clue that my two island companions hadn't come this way and I could relax and expand into the solitude.

Following the trail exactly I went all the way down to the southeastern loading dock, strained to look in vain past the rock stacks hiding one of the mysterious villages, and then started north towards the villa.

I really do believe in "island time" because nearly half of my six or seven hours had somehow disappeared by this point, with no explanation. But no way I was going to miss out on the one cache on the island, even if it meant I ended up missing out part of the trail later!

The house here was also intriguing, looking like it might have been closed up yesterday despite Swedish Wikipedia implying that it's been two years since it was a hostel. I snooped all the ground floor windows and even climbed the side ladder hoping to look into the top floor, but a spider had built an active web at the top so I had a quick peek out at the view and then came down again. Purely because of that, and not fear of heights at all you understand...

On to the cache at last! I gave the toilets themselves a bit of a wide berth at first, figuring that the cache wouldn't be too close. But considering the signs around here, I think it's just that Swedes (including Swedish cachers?) maybe have a smidge less disgust of toilets than we English do?

Eventually I translated enough of the past logs to tell me I really had to develop a stronger stomach, and to my credit I did get properly under the northeast corner as one log instructed, and poked (a stick) into all sorts of parts. Nothing!

I had properly grossed out and given up, but on a weird hunch on my way to leave, I just had a quick check of the other obvious corner as well, and there it was! So let me log cancel out that other one: it's not northeast!

Coming down from the hill again I was confused to hear some chatter and see a full four people walking around across the field from me. Where did at least two of them come from? I guessed at that point that they must have camped, but couldn't quite detect if they included the original two from the ferry or not...?

Well, I found out heading around the Red section that I'd just got lucky in the Blue: for a large section of the east coast I just couldn't properly get away from a whole group of people. When I stopped and let them past I found them stopped a little further on, and when I tried to escape up the northern path shortly afterwards, I soon heard them coming too.

I saw in the bay what I was up against: yachters! It became a sort of swear word as I went on, usually accompanied by another (adjective) swear word.

But I soon found another problem to focus on instead, which was completing this leg of the SAT. I had the option of not going up to the high point to get back nice and easily in time but I really wanted to finish everything today after not quite competing the Grinda leg. So I pushed myself along and up, took a quick moment at the top and then headed back around the yellow trail, limping slightly, towards the dock.

I think Island Time was more fun. Lesson learned? Well, maybe not alas. It's not the first time I've suffered for a goal.

At the pier again with the sun setting I was alone, so I guess my companions on the trip over had been (****ing) yachters as well.

After rushing, I'd made it in plenty of time for my boat, and I went and dipped my feet in the sea one last time, and bare-footed back over the rocks to the departure point.

By the time the boat came it was properly dark, and I signalled with my phone torch and was thrilled to get an answering flash from maybe a kilometre away. I was vastly outnumbered by the crew - I think they came for me specially! Pretty cool.

theilska Traditional Cache

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