The soft warm light of the long evening produced again a spectacular sunset; the early storm was long gone. There was no rush in preparing dinner to avoid cooking with headlamp as darkness would come after we had already retired to our tents. Laying on the polished rock we exchanged paddling stories: my tropical sandy beaches compared to Scandinavian granite labyrinth. I was still surprised that I managed to meet up with Pia and Erik on the water among so many islands that all looked the same.
As we were sipping our best moonshine a black head appeared bobbing in the little bay. A seal was trying to catch her dinner. Then she looked at us intently as trying to figure out what we were, the colorful kayaks maybe confused her.