MAN OVERBOARD: John
sacking, gulag prison, psychiatric hospital and now, finally, treasured archive.
Happy hour last night was extended by the skipper’s indulgence (starting time noon, closing time 10pm) because we had passed the halfway mark in our Russian journey. Inexplicably clumsy, one of us spilled a bag of crisps in the cockpit. There is no need to mention the two glasses of red wine that might have been kicked over during the same session. So this morning I lifted the teak grates to sweep up the mess while the girls sat by, sipped coffee and gave useless advice.
The best thing about having Dutch people on board is that, carefully managed, their deep-rooted compulsiveness can be exploited usefully. And so it was this morning. Our new crew Lieve (she’s actually Flemish, not Dutch, but, hey) felt she had no choice but to take control of the cleaning process. With the grates up, an intense, noisy and endless process of Flemish surgical sterilisation has begun. Wisely, I retreated below.
JOHN AS SECOND FIDDLE: Maxine
Poor John! A skipper with so many years of sailing experience, totally used to running his own boat, managed to get this woman on board who is not used to playing second fiddle, not used to translating every word being said, explaining every step being taken – someone who is more used to getting things done, conveying the results, then expecting them to be accepted without discussion.
John’s usual crew had always had English as their first language. It took me a while to realise that he had never sailed before with someone he found through a crewing website, someone whose first language was not English. Whose background was not Australian or even Anglosaxon. And he’d never sailed with someone who could speak the local language in non-english speaking countries.
So John had to get used to someone from a culture he did not know, who instantly took over all negotiations regarding the boat and failed miserably to keep him One of the more testing jobs I have each day is choosing the title for the web post.
Today’s choice was easy. I was enjoying an ale in the cockpit in celebration of something or other, while Maxine was hosing mud off the foredeck. Suddenly the hose nozzle burst from the hose and went over the side. Before I could put down my ale, Maxine had stripped off and dived in after it. With not so much as a ‘by your leave’.
Never mind the 25 knot following wind and the associated chop. It was left to me to disconnect the autopilot, find somewhere to put my glass of beer, execute a Williamson turn, prepare the boarding ladder, heave to upwind and manage the controlled drift down to her. It was a textbook man overboard recovery.
Now I am finishing my ale while the deck continues its ablutions. And Maxine? Well, I’m not sure about her, but that nozzle was a vital piece of equipment.
SEA OF AZOV: John
The short stretch of the Don below Azov is just as beautiful as the waterway above it.
Looking back at Azov as we motored downriver I was sad to be saying goodbye. Needless to say, we cracked a bottle of chardonnay at the river mouth and solemnly saluted. There is a 20-mile long, very narrow dredged channel from there out to sea. It is well buoyed but not wider than 30m, at times less. The depths are 1m or less on each side. Ships pass with difficulty.
It was in mid-channel that our salt water inlet suddenly became blocked with weed. Maxine announced that a large bulk carrier was approaching through the gloom of the dusk. She called it up to warn we were NUC (not under command) while I scrambled to clear the hoses and somehow we got to the side of the channel to allow the oncoming ship to pass.
The 200-mile passage Azov to Kerch’ in Ukraine is divided into two equal parts. The first leg was a gentle square run with everything poled out, warm sun, good food and wine. An endless parade of ships passed us to starboard.
With a splendid sunset we dropped the pole, rounded the corner and turned south to Kerch’. Under starry skies and with a freshening breeze, Tainui danced through phosphorescent seas with a bone in her teeth. All night we rushed south with a steady beam wind. Dawn brought relief from the constant vigilance required by the huge volume of commercial traffic, but we are both buggered. To put it mildly.