Sailing the Waterways of Russia’s North – Irene Campbell-grin
In the summer of 2000 Irene Campbell-grin and her husband Gordon joined the Cruising Association’s (CA) Baltic rally in their Dutch-built 12m steel sailing boat, Fereale, which was also their home. Together with four other yachts they travelled north from St Petersburg through inland waterways, including the 227km Belomorsk Canal, constructed under Stalin and lined with human bones. They passed mass graves and a drowned village. An incident involving a drunken Russian, rescued by a CA yacht but then taken away, beaten and imprisoned, upset Irene and she was glad to finally enter the White Sea.
6 July, 2000 Gordon is twitchy about getting Fereale’s papers back. Together with Colin he has gone in search of the harbour master, as tonight we will depart on the epic voyage to Murmansk. With his phrase book ever at-theready, Colin approached the locals and asked for directions. With blank looks they pointed in the direction of a most unlikely-looking shack. Deciding to give that a miss, Colin and Gordon eventually ended up at the local town hall a mile or so up the road. There they found the town mayor who, to their delight, spoke English. They were whisked off in his jeep to the same unlikely-looking shack that had first been pointed out to them! Inside, there was a wood stove burning in the centre and, in what must have been the kitchen, a bucket on the floor surrounded by dishes. Having been taken by surprise our man got out of his bunk and hurriedly put on a shirt. Even the television was quickly switched off in their honour. It was not long before the necessary papers had been handed over, and both men were back on board.
While our mosquito coils keep the flies at bay in the saloon, outside the deck is covered by millions of the nasty beasts. The wind, predominantly from the north, for once has turned south. We must leave soon and make the most of this wind as we have four or five days of non-stop sailing ahead. After a rest, and with plenty of food inside us, we said goodbye to the rest of the fleet. Fereale, being one of the slower boats under sail, did well to leave first. It was Brenda and Alan who, at 2200, helped cast off our lines and waved us goodbye whilst blowing the foghorn. We also glimpsed Willem on the pier. Our adventure has really started now, after the chaos of the inland waterways. No longer do we have to play ‘follow my leader’.
7 July, 2000 It is 0300 and already the sun is rising from just above the horizon, since it never sets. As there is hardly any wind, we motor-sail and the three of us get plenty of rest. Not long now until we will have reached the Arctic Circle. The Solovetsky Islands have disappeared out of sight and we are completely on our own. Now and again we hear Russian voices on the VHF, perhaps they are asking us something. The authorities must have been informed by now that the five boats have left Solovetsky, and heard us speak over the VHF. We are ignoring them and are concentrating on crossing over to the Kola Peninsula, under strict instructions not to stop anywhere along that coast. The Kola Peninsula is a barren place, which separates the White Sea from the Arctic Ocean. Sadly I had to disturb Gordon’s peace when I noticed that our new starter battery was over-charging. A problem he soon solved, which was a weight off my mind.
It is now late in the afternoon and Gordon is depressed, having found yet more water at the bottom of our day tank and a leaking exhaust. Quickly he switched off our engine, and with that everything electronic. Looking at the positive side, my fridge is getting its
‘I feel a little scared. The lashings our man received seem to fit my view of this forbidding coastline’
first defrost and clean since Holland! To gain some speed we hoisted our spinnaker, only to drop it a couple of hours later owing to a change of course. To our delight, we heard first Alan and then André over the VHF, as the two boats were about to catch us up.
8 July, 2000 It has been a funny night with the strangest cloud formations. The White Sea, famous for its fog, is treating us kindly. Now with the sun high in the sky we are fighting a strong current in a ten-mile bottleneck. I am scanning the coastline with my binoculars and feeling a little scared. Everything looks so bleak and uninviting and I have somehow convinced myself that any ship we might come across will be our enemy. Ridiculous of course, but in my generation we were brought up to fear Russia. One of the reasons for this trip is to break through that mentality.
I would have been fine had it not been for the lock incident. The lashings our man received seem to fit my view of this forbidding coastline. My confidence has vanished. There is some comfort, however, as Nomad has appeared on the horizon. Brenda and Alan have told us that, should the need arise due to water in our diesel, they would tow us all the way around the North Cape. Things are going well. Our crew, Colin, has a very easy-going nature and I wonder if anything can fluster him. A while ago we heard André from the Norwegian boat, Endring, talking to Spirit, both still out of sight. We could not hear Spirit’s answer but relayed ahead to Nomad that there was contact at least.
The only boat we do not have a position for is Babaji. We are confused as to why Spirit of Aeolus, the fastest boat in the fleet, is lagging behind. Soon Endring relayed back, to tell us that Spirit’s crew, concerned about noises from their engine room, have slowed down and are taking it easy.
It is 2200 and there is a huge swell. We have reached the polar circle and the current is sweeping us through the bottleneck at 9.6 knots. In two hours’ time, when the tide changes, we will need to dodge the countercurrent. The huge swell and ripples caused by the current constantly amaze me. Nowadays the concern over the Kola Peninsula is not over its military and submarine stations, but of the nuclear waste that has been dumped here. Although it is not evident, we are sailing over the most poisoned spot on earth.