Glory to the Shore Team and the Sunny Weather!

What is a sailor without support from shore? A lonely wanderer. But when people on the mainland love you, wait for you and keep their finger on the pulse, no storm can faze a sailor. Our shore team now has three members. Our daughter Natasha is responsible for publishing reports in the FB group and videos on YouTube; thanks to her, we can read your comments, since FB disabled that option automatically. Our mum, Galina Vasilyevna, regularly writes us encouraging letters, forwards comments and helps track down contacts. And our internet friend Sergei Yakubenko began joining the shore team even before the Equator—it was his certificates that Neptune presented to the crew. Sergei now coordinates the expedition from shore, reporting on the movements of Fyodor Konyukhov and Igor Zaretsky, whose paths may cross ours in the South Pacific. But our support group is much bigger than the shore team. It is all of you. You write us letters and comments, send warm words and wonderful congratulations, keep your fingers crossed for us and chase away the clouds. Friends, you give us such a boost of optimism that a gloomy, wet day grows brighter and our patience finds a second wind. Perhaps it is thanks to you that even the ocean calms down once a week, giving the crew a breather. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. We get a chance to sort out the lockers, mend the sails and finally seal up the remaining hatches. That is exactly what we spent all of yesterday doing. The sun charged the batteries, while the wind dried and chilled the cabins. The captain poured the second-to-last tube of sealant onto the hatch covers. At first, Lada crawled into her little burrow in the forecabin to read, pulling the covers over her head. But we persuaded her to settle somewhere else—she could hardly spend all her time in a dark den. So Lada made herself a nest among the pillows and blankets in the aft cabin. By lunchtime, the sunshine had coaxed our young sailor farther out; we mixed some dough and learned new words. Along the way, we discovered that Lada can already read a little English. Sailor Nastya was not allowed to sleep after her night watch: she was roused at seven in the morning by an alarm. The genoa had torn! “All hands on deck!” the captain sounded, and we rushed out to take down and stitch up the genoa—the largest headsail—which had split along a seam. How wonderful that it was calm! Doing this the day before would have been impossible. One thing that feels unusual now is that we put on waterproofs before going on deck. In the icy southerly wind, our heads are already freezing without hats, and everything, right up to the masthead, is saturated with salt, which we would rather not drag inside our little home just yet. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. How timely that the weather cleared! Besides mending sails and tending to the household, we celebrated the birthday of the shore team’s administrator—our daughter Natalia. In the middle of the night, the captain even managed to call her in Russia by satellite from the watery wilderness. We so want the people we love to feel our shoulder beside them, even though half the world separates us. Dear Natasha, we are so happy that you are on our team! That we share a life and great plans for the future. You are always invisibly present with us—in the pictures on the cabin wall, in photographs from our family archive and in our souls. Not a day has passed when we have not thought or spoken of you. We read your letters aloud and laugh together at the jokes, remembering funny stories from your childhood. Know that we are always with you. May your Guiding Star lead you along the road of life. Rejoice in every moment and make your dreams come true. Remember that you are needed and loved, and never give up! We baked a banana cake and ate it in your honour. And now we are going to eat another one, also banana, but with papaya jam as well. We are clinking our mugs of tea to you! And I am remembering our first night watch together in the unsettled winter Mediterranean, when we sat in the cockpit, soaked and chilled to the bone. Huge waves tossed the yacht from side to side, testing the mettle of our still almost completely green crew. And both of us were thinking, “Oh God, why do we need this? Hooome! I want to go hooome!” .. .. It was a good boot camp. Things are even a little easier now. Although the weather is just the same—winter-in-the-Mediterranean weather. But it is still warmer than Russia, and there is not even any snow. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . We are sending warmth to our birthday girl Natasha and to all of you, our priceless support group! Write to us, and thank you for being there. I am off to make tea; we will raise our mugs in a toast to our daughter. Hugs to everyone from 36 degrees 43 minutes south latitude and 144 degrees 29 minutes west longitude. Day 25 of the passage, with another 3,500 nautical miles to the first land ahead. Unless, of course, in 378 miles we finally find Maria Theresa Island. The expedition report on the 37th parallel will be in the next dispatch. For the third week, there has not been a soul around. Only now and then does a proud storm petrel soar boldly and freely over the foam-grey sea. By evening, it will blow 30 knots (1 knot is 1 nautical mile per hour).