I paddled past the sea wall that I thought was a marina. It was.
The wind blew from the southwest. For the first hour it was a nice tail wind. When I turned the corner into Namsenfjorden the water calmed. Farther south a headwind rose and shifted to a tailwind as the fjord curved east.
I took narrow pathways between islands until I arrived at a dead end, though my chart showed a passage. To turn back and go around the other side of the island would add at least half an hour to an already long day. I got out and dragged my boat up a short beach onto a road. From the road I saw the other side. Two hundred meters of low tide mud flats lay between me and smooth paddling.
I slogged over the flats and resumed paddling. The wind periodically blew rain clouds overhead, but they never stayed for long. A rainbow upside down smiled at me.
As I pulled into Namsos I sang songs to welcome in the Sabbath, maybe a bit loudly. When I stopped singing to ask about a guest marina the fellow above didn't really want to talk to me since my singing told him I was crazy.
In the marina I met Osla who had just finished painting his sailboat. He and his wife were math and history teachers by day and kayak instructors by night. They welcomed me into their home like family and while I napped Saturday afternoon Osla went ahead and fixed my skeg.
It works wonderfully.