Starry Nights The night before landfall was the twin sister of the previous night’s stellar mystery. These were the first nights in a year and a half when we stood on deck gazing at the stars, in no hurry to retreat into the warmth of the wheelhouse. — I’ve never seen such a starry sky in my life! — You have, darling—you’ve just forgotten. Lately it’s always been cloudy or cold. — No, the stars used to be farther apart, but now they’re crammed into every centimetre of the sky. — See that brightest star over there? That’s Aldebaran—our captain is the chief astronomer aboard the yacht. The alpha star of which constellation? — Mmm... Taurus? — Correct. And if you look higher up in the sky, you’ll come to the most important constellation in the Southern Hemisphere. — The Southern Cross? — Yes. And that star over there points south. So which way are we heading now? — Mmm... north? — Laduuunya!—the reproach in my voice instantly recalibrates our young sailor’s compass. — East, of course—Australia is to the east! And we stand in the cockpit for a long while yet, gazing at the path of light cast by Venus (almost as bright as a moonlit path), recalling the northern constellations and our shaggy winter sky in the Altai Mountains.
Dawn And in the middle of the night, the glow of coastal lights begins to rise in the east. Not as bright as it was on our approach to Cape Town, but still. The 53rd dawn was completely different. After a sleepless night spent tacking, setting and taking in sails, and monitoring shipping, the captain and I took turns dozing head-to-toe on the watchkeeper’s settee. The sun peered inquisitively through the wheelhouse windows. My smile woke first. There was no need to pull it onto my face and count off ten seconds to let my body grow accustomed to the thought, “Everything is fine with me.” The oppressive sense that the passage would never end dissolved in the first rays. The yacht strains impatiently towards the sun, towards another part of the world, another life. And, at last, towards land, already visible as an island off to starboard of our course. The swell is still tossing us about, and we hurry to finish sprucing everything up, bake the last apples, and make compote from dried peaches with stones in them (we needn’t have bothered: unopened factory-sealed packages are not sent for disposal).
And Ships Were Entering the Harbour We reached the continental shelf while it was still dark. A low coastline appeared, with large ships in the roadstead—quite a long way offshore. 11 a.m. was when our boat entered the harbour of Fremantle. They were already waiting for us at the quarantine berth of the yacht club of the same name: customs officers by their vehicle, two biosecurity officers, several yachtsmen, and Lyudmila, a Russian-speaking resident of Perth, the capital of Western Australia. Together with our shore support team—Sergey Yakubenko—Lyuda had mobilised half of Australia for the worthy cause of assisting the sailing expedition :). She had also volunteered to act as our interpreter, since any yacht is officially entitled to request a certified interpreter. Lyudmila happened to hold just such a certificate. These were roughly our 150th set of formalities, so we could manage on our own, but it was good to feel that we had someone at our side.
Quarantine We moored at the quarantine berth, and only then did a biosecurity officer approach the boat. — Good afternoon!—we exchanged a friendly, routine “Hello,” but the official declined to shake hands: no contact of any kind was permitted until the boat had been cleared from quarantine. Only after some moment whose significance was unknown to us, about ten minutes later, did both biosecurity officers come aboard. The captain was firm: “We take our shoes off here.” The first gentleman removed his shoes without hesitation, while the second remained on deck—apparently his shoes could not be taken off. The official and Andrey sat down at the negotiating table, while the children and I tried to remember where we might have missed any hidden stashes and quietly carried the problematic foodstuffs over to a specially designated box in the saloon. The first matter to be settled was the coronavirus quarantine. In fact, it had already been dealt with while we were still at sea, from where we had sent answers to questions about when we had last been in contact with other people. We were lucky: we arrived in Australia having effectively quarantined ourselves, and those 53 days were accepted as our quarantine period. Just two days later, the country imposed a ban on all foreign nationals entering its territory. So we made it in time. As for the clearance procedure itself, the search with a sniffer dog, and the explanation of the possible penalties, those deserve a separate story. It will be published on the website tomorrow. Wishing everyone a strong immune system!
Thank You! Friends, thank you for your active support of our crew throughout the entire Indian Ocean passage! Thank you to Maxim F. and Maxim K. for topping up the expedition budget via PayPal and Yandex Money Together with you, we will definitely weather every economic downturn and successfully complete the expedition!