“There is no growth in prolonged comfort,” I say, scraping myself off the watchkeeper’s settee to step out into autumn. 2 a.m. We set sail and thread our way around the reefs by instruments. Breakers roar into the damp night. The Cape Naturaliste lighthouse slashes a radial beam across the ocean. We leave our comfort zone.
For half a month, we have been making our way through weather windows, beating into headwinds towards great cape No. 3—Leeuwin. In a couple of days, Lady Mary will have rounded all the great capes. All that will remain is to close the circle for the “ First Russian Round-the-World Sailing Expedition via the Great Capes and Antarctica with Children ” to be successfully completed. In the Covid era, this is a formidable task: the countries along our route are closed. But by the time we reach the Pacific, a solution will present itself. After all, three months ago it was impossible to sail around Australia. And now it is possible. ⠀
On leaving your comfort zone
For all its pleasures, comfort is a point of stagnation. It is no coincidence that empires pass through three phases—growth, flowering and decline. Prolonged comfort is the flowering. What comes after it? To avoid falling, you have to start growing again. On the eve of our departure, Nastya and I felt terrified at the thought of severing our ties.
A year in Perth
—schools, hobby clubs and our first truly close friends in 7.5 years—was hard on us. For the first time in all our years at sea, we often quarrelled and woke up sad. The “empire” was sliding towards decline. Severing those ties also became our way out—out of both the comfort zone and the danger zone at once. ⠀
With our beloved Yulia, Seryozha and Mila
Photo by Yulia Galushina
Thoughts on the night before 15 April
Two hours until dawn, and the captain sends me to bed. The high swell makes my head heavy and kills my appetite. There is a lump in my throat. Two months non-stop will be harder after the break than it used to be. The reward for an ocean passage is making landfall. Half a day later, we drop anchor in Hamelin Bay. Azure water breaks against snow-white cliffs; huge stingrays swim right up to our feet, and you can stroke them. The famous “Cape to Cape” track runs through here—123 km between Cape
Naturaliste
and Cape Leeuwin. ⠀
Soon we will get used to being alone in the middle of the world’s most beautiful planet. To hell with seasickness. We will tuck away our longing for our loved ones for now. And the autumn shower on deck makes our teeth chatter. To take a step upward, you have to leave your comfort zone. Two days’ rest, then we set off for the place where the Indian Ocean meets the
Southern Ocean
. Through reefs and headwinds. Friends, mums,
home
... we miss you. But how else could it be? There is no growth in prolonged comfort. What do you think, guys?
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