— Andryushaaa, I can't do this any more! I'm tiiired. It's my birthdaaay… Children, he's exploiting me! — I whine, supposedly as a joke, though real tears are beginning to reach my eyes.
2 April. The sun is already kissing the horizon. I have been standing in the cockpit at the sewing machine for seven hours straight. The captain is sitting on deck wrapped in the mainsail. My left leg is numb; my back is locked from constantly trying to keep my balance, keep hold of both sail and machine, and work the pedal. And the long tears in the mainsail simply refuse to end. By evening the sea has built again and the heavy metal sewing machine is sliding around on the hatch cover.
That was my essay on the subject “How I celebrated my birthday.” How the deckhand celebrated hers, Nastya described in the previous post.
In fact the celebration was a success. The satisfaction of seeing metre-long scarlet patches sewn on both sides of the mainsail outweighed the exhaustion. We had run out of sailcloth, so coloured sail bags went into service. If this continues, patchwork masters will envy us.
Hooray! The captain took pity on us, the holes temporarily came to an end, and we even had time to drink non-alcoholic champagne on deck.
Unlike the previous thirty days, the deck did not disappear from beneath our feet and was not being washed by the sea. For a moment we even caught that famous romance of cruising under sail that everyone talks about but which we hardly ever see on long passages :).
That is because we either sail through the “roaring” latitudes or close-hauled in fresh wind, and that is more like round-the-clock work than a holiday.
Then a weather window arrived: an absolutely following light breeze, and for the first time in a month we changed tack. On the old tack the yacht had begun heading toward Alaska — surprisingly, a sailing yacht cannot sail with the wind directly astern. After changing tack we crawled toward the Mariana Islands, south-west instead of north-west.
The birthday girl became even gloomier than before, and the previous month had hardly been cheerful as it was.
“Find the advantages immediately,” a little voice fluttered in my head.
There they were. Whatever else happened, the wind shift reduced the waves and gave us the unprecedented opportunity to open the hatches and repair the sail.
Other presents and… encounters
For the deckhand they began on the 31st.
I step into the cockpit carrying a one-and-a-half-litre bottle of water to “take my evening shower”.
Hey! :)
A white fishing vessel is abeam — a whole floating fish factory.
— A ship, guys!
Our little crew pours onto deck. The first vessel in a month, and so close.
Andrey switches AIS on to receive, but the fisherman does not appear on it. The radar detector is silent too.
— We are sailing along so relaxed, and look at this: a vessel simply grows beside us in complete radio silence, while the “anti-radar” does not make a sound.
Shamed by such heresy, the detector immediately begins screaming, for some reason pointing to a radar source ahead and to starboard.
But the factory ship is already astern.
— Let's look around. Maybe there is another vessel ahead and we know nothing about it.
Exactly.
Ahead — but not to starboard as the detector claimed, rather to port — a neat white ship appears about four hundred metres away, lit up and carrying large Japanese characters on its sides.
It is lying stopped, bow pointing straight at us.
Good grief.
Hundreds of miles from any land, in an absolutely empty ocean… and then to discover a ship that has crept to within shouting distance. That, I can tell you, is an adventure.
— Japanese. Mmm… They probably have sushi in the galley. And miso soup… the girls and I say dreamily.
— Get inside, all of you, dressed like that in swimsuits! the captain orders.
Because you never know.
Once in the Caribbean I had to pull foul-weather gear over a swimsuit, hide my hair and pretend to be a man. A yacht carrying women and children can look like easy prey, while the intentions of people aboard unidentified small vessels heading directly toward you in the open sea are not always transparent.
The Japanese ship turned out to be peaceful. It let Lady Mary cross ahead and then got under way across our course. It was probably towing a long trawl.
We watched it go and from that day began going out onto deck more often at night to scan the horizon.
The first Japanese islands were about eight hundred miles away.
— Ladunya, that is your first birthday present from the ocean!
And the delighted deckhand began waiting for the rest.
Thank you for the warmth and love
During our double birthday, on days 32 and 33 of ocean isolation, the shore team worked without sparing the internet.
Yulia, Olesya and Seryozha forwarded your comments and messages, and the sun began shining above Lady Mary again.
Our dear people, near and far, thank you for your inspiring and supportive words. You gave us so much joy.
Warm greetings flew in from all over the world: Russia and Ukraine, the United States and Colombia, Germany and Italy, Tahiti and Israel, Spain and Sweden, Australia and New Zealand, South Africa and Belarus…
On days like this you realise how many good people there are in the world.
That means goodness will outweigh the rest, doesn't it?
Peace to all of you.
If we pray for anything on this passage, it is only for peace.
The deckhand's dream
You cannot imagine how happy Lada is about every birthday greeting.
Celebrating your eleventh birthday in complete isolation is not much of a party, is it? Though all of us did our best to make it fun.
The deckhand has already decided what to do with the birthday gifts sent to our YooMoney wallet.
First of all, Lada will buy a cubic metre of timber.
Yes. Not a game or a dress, although she would like those too.
The deckhand has a dream: to build a little clubhouse in the garden.
When we reach Altai we will sand and wash the boards from the old fence and build the house at the edge of the woodshed.
The old fence will not supply enough material, so more timber will have to be bought. That is where the money gifts will go.
The captain will most likely be sorting out business in Novosibirsk. Nastya will fly away to work in the Arctic. The deckhand and I will start construction and repairs.
Because there is a dream of a cosy little house, and dreams are supposed to come true.
I will teach my daughter how to use an electric jigsaw and a cordless screwdriver.
And if any of the gift money remains, the deckhand will buy herself a summer dress and trainers.
We will also have to leave a window in the work schedule for video editing.
So many video adventures from around the world are waiting in line for our Travely Family YouTube channel.
The only sad thing is that YouTube has disabled monetisation for Russia. We had hoped that developing the channel would bring not only creative satisfaction but eventually become self-supporting.
We will think about that when we arrive and look around. There is still too little information for conclusions.
A fish from Neptune
Yesterday Neptune hurled us his own present: a fat tuna of about seven or eight kilograms firmly took the hook.
The tackle survived, though the captain himself went flying across the deck while fighting the catch.
I cooked another seven jars of preserved tuna. We have about ten jars now.
The salted and dried tuna should be ready in three days. May it please not rain during those three days, unlike last time.
There are fewer than 1,100 miles left to the turn north into the Sea of Japan through the Korea Strait.
We have already covered around 4,500 miles.
Ah, the speed was so good. A pity it has dropped now.
Today the deckhand has returned to her lessons.
She left Polynesia armed to the teeth with materials and assignments from the caring teachers of the St Andrew the Apostle Geography School.
Her online school allows a flexible approach, and Lada can study even without internet access.
Still, she cannot wait to return to online lessons as soon as we reach Vladivostok.
“Mum, isn't it great that the time difference with Moscow is no longer so big? Lessons will start at four in the afternoon!”
Our pupil is happy that the nocturnal Polynesian schedule is over and classes with her group will now happen almost during the day.
A huge ocean greeting to the pupils and teachers of the Geography School.
All these happy events have lifted the crew's mood. We will try to preserve it.
Because if you cannot change the situation, change what you can: make the people beside you a little happier.
Give kindness when there is nothing else you can do to help.
We send you our warmth.
May Heaven protect you.
We will live.
Enormous thanks for the birthday presents and support for the expedition through YooMoney to Olga V., Elena S., L K K, Natalia D., Grigor Igor, Anatoly K.K., and the owners of cards ending 3674, 0328, 9070, 8055, 1108, 7107, 1686 and 4524.
Sent by satellite on day 35 at sea.
Coordinates: 22°40′ N, 148°35′ E.
You can find our real-time position under the Route tab. It shows the track from the Rockstar Iridium 360 tracker provided by MVS Telecom.