Hasselsnok and Lichenthrope

I jumped aboard a boat to the archipelago and Grinda said to me:

Hasselsnok. Hasselsnok. Hasselsnok.

The smoothness of the hasselsnok is limiting my use of proper paragraphs today.

Bright red fungi: Adorning the path edges.

I climbed rocks flattened during the last ice age and found:
Trees stolen by lichen creepily growing in the semi-lunar landscape.

I paddled near: The pink quartz.

Island-hopped: Then stopped at Vaxholm.

I reached for: Tiny islands scattered at sunset.