|The view at anchor|
Our problem with Helløy was the bay was too small and too deep for the needed length of chain.
|Lemon Nudibranch and Urchin|
One clear evening I stayed up until 2 am to watch the sun drift lower over the shore of one island, describe a low arc over another in the north and then start climbing higher again in the northeast sky. The sun shining unendingly through the cabin windows seems a stranger concept than the simply not-quite-getting-dark that I have experienced far from the equator in earlier voyages.
Little zodiac tour boats arrived one late evening and unloaded a group of identically dressed fluorescent yellow tourists onto one of the nearby islands to watch the midnight sun. Presumably the town where they boarded had hills in the north which blocked the low sun at that late hour.
We made two dives in the cold clear water of our little bay. All the subsurface rocks were bright pink with encrusting algae. Unbelievable numbers of gaily coloured brittle stars writhed about the rocks. The occasional cute lemon nudibranch wandered about either on his personal agenda or perhaps just to add another tint to an already colour-saturated scene. We found a large black anemone on the first dive but failed to locate him on the second dive when the photoflash had functioning batteries. This last statement can be generalized into a rule about when you are likely to see the best stuff!
The endless sunshine means that, other than sleep-deprivation issues, it doesn’t matter when you start your “day”. At 10 pm on day 3 the wind started to pick up. The inadequate length of chain, closeness of the rocks and now poorer forecast combined to tell me that I would not sleep even if Mary Anne could. I announced departure for Tromsø and off we went.