Letter from Stockholm

Thursday 2 June: Stockholm is our final port of call but there’s no room for us in the harbour. We anchor offshore at the port of Nynashamn. Buses are to take us 45 minutes up the highway to Stockholm itself. The ship’s tenders are lowered to take passengers ashore. Jonesy takes photos of the action.

It’s quite dramatic watching the tenders being swung out from the deck and lowered 100 feet into the water. We make our way down to the 3rd deck with hundreds of other passengers. The sea is choppy and one has to board the tender with care.

It’s a catamaran capable of taking well over 100 people. The boat’s nose goes up as the pilot opens the throttles. The twin propellors pack a punch. Passengers disembark at the floating dock and make their way up to the coach park.

We have booked a “highlights” tour of Stockholm. Our coach has broken down, we learn. A replacement is on its way. It arrives and we set off. I snooze most of the way. In Stockholm an elderly guide joins the coach. She is enthusiastic and knowledgeable. Not a building escapes her attention.

We stop on a hill for a view of the city and the main harbour. Stockholm is truly beautiful, a city of islands, bays and bridges. For two hours the coach takes us on a tour of the city, past the buildings of state and government, past parks, across bridges, through the suburbs. We are shown some mega-expensive apartments, one of which belongs to Bjorn Borg. Everwhere, boats are tied up in little bays and inlets.

I am disappointed that there’s no opportunity to get off and wander around. It’s my own fault. I booked the wrong tour.

Back to the hotel to drop the guide and a chance for a welcome beer. I have to change euros for Swedish crowns at the desk. Then it’s back down the highway to Nynashamn again.

NYNASHAMN COACH PARK

Jones and I decide that another visit to Stockholm is a must. We have three hours before we must rejoin the ship. We wander up the road for a look at the little town. As in Stockholm, there are great outcrops of granite to be seen on all sides. It’s a public holiday, Ascension Thursday, and the place is fast asleep.

An old lady is taking her cat for a walk. There’s a little more action at the port where a ferry is loading. I need a pee and Jones has forbidden me from using the bushes. So it’s back to the coach park. We chat to the young women running the visitors’ shop. Their English is good. Jones chooses a few souvenirs. I get another t-shirt.

Back on to the tender for a choppy ride back to the ship and some welcome late afternoon tea (i.e. a pint of Boddington’s ale). More pictures as the tenders are hauled back on board. The operation is swift and practised. We’re impressed.

After supper, we make our way to the 12th deck observation lounge for a malt whisky (our first) and some reflective conversation. Our voyage is nearly over. We have Friday at sea. We have booked a "behind the scenes" tour of the ship, including a visit to the bridge.

Saturday morning early we dock In Copenhagen. Sunday we fly home.