50 Days Under Way. Our Turquoise Wedding Anniversary—and How Not to Kill Each Other.

50 days under way. Our turquoise wedding anniversary—and how not to kill each other. It is now our 14th day at sea since leaving lonely Tristan da Cunha. From there, we had planned to reach South Africa in about 15 days. But the weather has other plans, and it will take 18 at best, perhaps longer. The calm will give way to a fresh headwind the day after tomorrow. And there is an area of stronger winds off the Cape of Good Hope which, if the forecast is to be believed, will carry us north. For now, we are gaining ground to the south, tracing strange squiggles. Incidentally, Jules Verne’s unforgettable Duncan flew from Tristan da Cunha to Cape Town in six days, without any squiggles at all. If only we could do the same. . .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . Today is our 18th wedding anniversary. In honour of the occasion, the captain even put on a brand-new pair of blue football shorts patterned with daisies. Designer ones, from the old stock. Once upon a time, shorts like these were the calling card not only of Andryukha, but of the entire football team of our glorious village of Elekmonar in the Altai. My sister got them for us wholesale, together with a T-shirt with a necktie printed on it. Once, some friends invited us either to a birthday party or an anniversary. The invitation specified formal dress—practically black tie. I turned up in a floor-length silver ball skirt with scalloped trim, a necklace of tiny diamonds around my neck, and... a sling. Three-month-old Ladunya was snuffling away inside it. But Andrei stole the show. He came to the celebration in the restaurant’s VIP room wearing a suit, just as required: ultramarine daisy-patterned shorts and that very T-shirt with the printed necktie. Everyone howled with laughter. More than eight years have passed since then. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . Over the past year, we have spent every holiday except three birthdays on passage. We celebrated Nastya’s birthday near the phantom Maria Theresa Reef, and even had a killer wave turn up in time for the festive breakfast. Catholic Christmas was in the Roaring Forties, New Year’s Eve at the Oceanic Pole of Inaccessibility, and Orthodox Christmas and the Old New Year came as we approached Cape Horn. February 23 was in the Drake Passage, and March 8 among the icebergs of Antarctica. And now our wedding anniversary has fallen during the passage to the Cape of Good Hope. So we have not had a beautiful party in a hundred years. Or two hundred. .. .. What would I like right now? To go to the cinema, go bowling, and snowboard down a mountain. A nightclub would do too—I love dancing. And I would also like to be home in the Altai Mountains for the Ivan Kupala festival. Wearing a linen dress embroidered with protective symbols, a fluffy flower wreath, walking barefoot over the coals, then taking a running leap over the bonfire! And afterwards floating a burning straw effigy down the river. .. Though what does any of that have to do with a wedding anniversary? . .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . In honour of the romantic occasion, the captain spent the entire night clearing his head with a game of Civilization. The conqueror of the world fell asleep at dawn. And when he woke up, my gifts to him were sails set and pancakes. Nastya and I had simply had enough of lying hove-to after the captain hove the yacht to before retiring himself. The adverse current was carrying Lady Mary back towards South America. At the first hint of wind, we leapt gallantly into action to set sail and ended up making a mess of it. We wrapped the furling line around the forestay, then unwound it again, of course. I felt like a weightlifter as I hauled on the line, trying to put the strain on my legs rather than my back. The captain really does have the strength of a mighty warrior! What takes Nastya and me a tremendous effort, he does with one hand. But we were so proud of our labours that even our mood improved. And now we are moving slowly but surely to the south-east. . .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . And our moods have been rather grim for the last couple of days. It is bloody frustrating, after such a long, difficult journey, to get stuck in the middle of the ocean right at the very end, with no chance of reaching land for another week. I wanted to cry more and more often, everyone’s faces grew gloomier, and we even started grumbling at each other. But then we got a grip. .. .. You must always remember the Main Thing: why you are here, and why you are with these particular people and not others. The fundamental rule I try to instil in our family—between the sisters, and between the adults and the grown-up children alike—is to emphasise what you have in common, not what divides you. The results can be astonishing. . . .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . What refrain runs through every quarrel once raised voices have given way to personal attacks? I’m D’Artagnan, and you screwed up! .. .. Or: ‘Look what a clever girl Masha is, while you’re hopeless and no good at all!’ .. .. This sort of wordplay always has the same result: the people being compared begin, to put it mildly, to dislike each other. One—because he is the one who is so wonderful; the other, because the wonderful one is not him. .. ‘Oh, so you’re D’Artagnan, and I’m a nobody!?’ ‘Oh, so she’s the clever one and you love her more, while I’m a failure!?’ .. .. When the children quarrel, I remain neutral. I say to them, ‘What are you doing? You’re the beloved stytychki Nana and Dada.’ .. .. And, surprisingly quickly, the hostility cools. When our little Nastya was small, she called her elder sister Natasha ‘Stytychka Atasya.’ Nastya herself was Nana, while Ladunya called herself Dada. At once, everyone remembers themselves as little girls and softens. Perhaps, of course, I just happened to get children who are pure angels. And my husband is an even purer angel. But I tend to believe that people become pure angels if you treat them like human beings. The miracle does not happen at once, but it is worth fighting for. .. .. So, happy anniversary to the captain and me! . . . .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . Our young sailor initiated the baking of a festive Lakomka cake, using a recipe from her favourite book for girls. We have to improvise with recipes because we ran out of eggs long ago. We substitute either butter or milk and see what comes out. The ocean is breathing evenly, but deeply. The yacht rises onto a blue dune, then sinks between two mountains. The sun is boring into us with all its might, so the two surviving solar panels are almost meeting our daily electricity needs. And Lady Mary is following in the wake of dozens of great navigators; it is very interesting to find out exactly who they were. The young sailor and I are about to sit down with the books and charts to study their passages and routes, and tomorrow we will share our findings. .. .. The attached photo was taken in the fjords of Tierra del Fuego. . .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . Cape Town is 300 nautical miles away as the crow flies. We hope to arrive on Monday. Sending hugs from the subtropical spring, at almost 35° south latitude. Thank you for being with us. We hope you will see this post in the Facebook group as well. Reposts from the website to VK happen automatically, but Facebook is subject to the human factor. And alas, that factor does not always have a positive effect. But we are not giving up hope. .. .. We wish you a cosy autumn and warm, happy holidays, friends! . .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . From the bottom of our hearts, we thank everyone joining our shore-based support team, friends. Many thanks to Alexander K, Anastasia, and Vitaly for the substantial boost to the expedition’s ship’s kitty through Paypal.Me/TravelyFamily and Yasobe.ru/na/TravelyFamily! Thank you for giving us the feeling that what we do matters. May all be well with you! . .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . . .. .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. . Sent by satellite. You can follow the progress of the First Russian ‘Three Great Capes’ Round-the-World Expedition with Children on our website under the Route tab, where the IRIDIUM track is plotted. The same map, with the track and weather, is available at bit.ly/iridium360