The Christening

In mid-June each year for many years, our family would convene at a remote cabin on a cove carved into Tuftonboro Neck, a thickly wooded, rocky patch of land sticking out into Lake Winnipesaukee about five miles northwest of Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. I remember long road trips starting on highways thick with traffic and extending into rolling New England countryside as we drove into the night to get there. Each endless drive and the anticipation of another idyllic summer reunion that came with it always concluded on the same rutted dirt track -- Windleblo Road.

At the end of Windleblo Road was a Happy Place where the family would spend time away from the hassles of work and school, where worries were forgotten and time stood still, new friends were made and new experiences shared. In the evening, board games, storytelling, a player piano, and other throwbacks from a bygone era constituted fun. There was lots of time for reading. We were "off the grid," away from the phones and without TV or Internet.

During the day, there was the lake. We'd spend most daylight hours entertained in one way or another on the water. We'd watch it, swim in it, float on it, fish in it, and, of course, sail across it. Even our drinking water supply came straight from it. So I suppose you could say the lake was our primary source of entertainment and sustenance.

Once the all too brief summer reunion had ended and we returned home to school or work, we'd spend the rest of the year dreaming about what lies at the end of Windleblo Road. Windleblo Cove came to represent all that is good and fun and cheerful in life. We were forever looking forward to arriving once again at that pleasant destination.

Well, with tonight's christening we've arrived there again, and it feels just right.

My last entry was posted from the Sky Room lounge in Frankfurst airport. Needless to say, a lot has transpired since then -- so much so that I have scant been able to keep up with proper eating and sleeping, much less postings to this blog. My apologies, dear follower, for neglecting you for so long.

The flight into Gothenburg and the car rental process went smooth as silk, and my first experience with a Swede was pleasant -- without hesitation, the Budget counter person allowed me to place a call to our hotel from his phone to let them know we were coming. As it was already past 7:30 p.m., we thought we should drive straight to our lodging, knowing it would be late by the time we got there. But the sun was still high, and we were famished, so we took the "Centrum" highway exit once our surroundings looked urban and ended up in the center of Gothenburg. We found a parking spot and got out in search of a restaurant.

The air was cool and dry, the streets were busy with buses, trams, and cars, and the sidewalks were filled with pedestrians of many stripes enjoying the mild air. We stumbled onto one of many kebob outlets and decided to grab a quick bite. Down the street , a rally of some sort was in progress at a square centered by a large statue. Before stepping in to order our food, we strolled close enough to see a fairly large gathering of Iranians protesting the recent Iranian election. I couldn't tell if it was Swedish or Farsi that washed across the crowd amplified through a bullhorn.

After enjoying our kebob, we steered our rented VW Golf loaded with our four, 23 kilo boxes (yes, all our baggage made it just fine) back through the city streets in search of signs pointing to the E6 highway headed north toward Oslo. Finally finding it, we put the pedal down for 3o minutes, exiting at Stenungsund headed for Ellos, the center of the Hallberg-Rassy universe. Two bridges later, we crossed onto the island of Orust. As the clock approached 10 p.m., we arrived at the Nosundgarden, a delightful B&B in the seaside town of Nosund, just 10 minutes shy of Ellos.

We awoke the next morning -- Wednesday, June 17th -- and, after enjoying a delightful breakfast of fresh, hot bread, soft boiled egg, creamed herring, fruit, and muesli, we paid our bill and covered the remaining 10 kilometers between us and HR central. We were greeted at the Hallberg-Rassy boatyard by Roger Johannson, our broker, who had traveled here from Annapolis, Maryland, to help ensure a smooth delivery. Roger grew up on the island and knows the people very well. He is one of only three Hallberg-Rassy distributors in the U.S., and so of course also knows the boats very well.

Then, the moment arrived when we first set our eyes on our boat. There she was. Windleblo, comfortably at ease in Hallberg-Rassy harbor. She looked just as immaculate as we imagined her -- gleaming white topsides and beautiful teak decks, the strikingly clean lines of windscreen, cockpit, and rigging a sight to behold. We paused to snap a picture in our minds of this moment. Then we stepped aboard.

To be continued