Episode 4

In the Northern Sea Route
When you're taken back by the sea, it's entirely, with its changing faces, rhythms, liquid or icy surfaces…
Already a surprising route up to Tcheliouskine. To reach the cape at the most North of the Asian continent, we have to go through Barents and Kara s. The New Zemble between them, as a lovely coma on the map, is for us just a low crust of ground seen in the fog. Then, there is a change: after a good wind pushing us, and the live and rough sea shaking us, the mystery of calm, calm thick mist is coming, hiding the first ices. The water, green or brown, is sometimes punctuated with trunks carried by the large Yennissei River. Here we are in the difference. Here, arctic lights, clear and soft monochrome, are prolonged in a strange feeling of an expanse as the shore, not even so far, is hardly visible and the 2 to 15 m depth where Vagabond is tracing her route makes the landscape looking flatter in our mind!
Our first icy way is before Dikson. The Sovietsky Soyouz ice breaker, on standby near the pack field, shows us the perimeter as well as the best route to follow to get round it. Nevertheless, what a pleasure to find again this atmosphere, to slalom for a few hours between the dirty ice sheets and to catch sight of our first seals! Ephemeral reunion.
Later on, between Dikson and Russia's north cape, confrontation becomes discovering: this time, there are enormous and flat ice sheets, real pieces of ice floe not even broken up. The giant frozen water lily look is magic. Vagabond slowly enters a long and misty corridor… and finally stops. First standby in the ice, we are jubilant. Engines turned off, we take advantage of the silence, from the nid de pie, and then under a special light we let Samuel go on the ice floe with his movie camera, as a small point in the immensity…
Following this beautiful day in the ice, a real sailing navigation is given to us, with sunshine and tight swell, 18 to 25 knots vent au pré, green sea. Later, along the shore still imperceptible, the engines' whirr is rocking us again until we reach the famous Tcheliouskine cape: weather is not routine.
Our third meeting with the ice is rather all of a sudden, at Laptev Sea, a sailing day from Tcheliouskine. During is "night" watch Gerard was easily slaloming between fragments and icy sheets in the mist, with the genois largely unrolled. When my turn comes, I concentrate myself on the back wind getting stronger. All of a sudden, a huge grey piece of ice comes out the mist and nearly makes me doing a U-turn. Waked up urgently, Eric steers while I roll the genois which is flying by a 28 knots wind. After two hours of big effort and heavy concentration, with very cold hands, I feel weak, not far from fainting. Going south towards Tiksi, our wake is then drawing a nice streamer rippling between south and east, according to our temptations, trying not to be trapped by the ice. Some big walrus, flabby on icy sheets, are looking at us, more curious than afraid. Trying to go more east than south, we are obliged to push the grolers with the stick. We even go backwards, we can't win every time!
However, what a nice satisfaction to see that Vagabond cheerfully breaks these flat icy sheets which aren't assaulting us as those from Greenland.
Tow new personalities are now set up in our daily environment, either in a concrete way or sometimes invisible…
Dagmar: ghost ship, pirate boat, Viking shaked off in the ice yesterday, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind. The proud red hull flying the German flag, with her spire, jib, clin jib, and huge boom, is on the way just like us. Rather than a competition, it's a knowingly complicity which strikes up the two crews. Our "first cousins" (cousins germains in French) as Gerard call them, are trying for the fourth time the North East Route. Altogether we realize how lucky we are this year, with exceptional condition of ice. Rather invisible off shore, they are at least very present. Beautiful feeling to know our two sail boats together in this unique adventure, two foreigner and totally different sail boats. If, in the actual context, we succeed this route together, in one season, the symbolism seems as strong as the historic event which will be done.
More concrete is Boris. Taken on board at Murmansk, this Russian former ice pilot, in his sixties, made himself gently at home in our small crew. At first, we have been amazed of his fast adaptation to Vagabond's rough behavior. Little by little, in conversations, we detect his sense of humor. Since Karen left in Dikson, he is the only interpreter on board and somehow assumes relations and translation with coastguards, helps us with attentiveness (more than efficiency sometimes…) in logistic aspects as gasoil or water supplying, search for an Internet connection or a sauna. On this point, he is stubborn: no way to fail. In Tiksi, as the entrance formalities are done, we do not understand his irritated face nor his stormy talks with customs.
"Is there a problem?" Eric asks, worried.
"Yes. They can't find the sauna's key to use it right away" (11 p.m., local time!)
Having a hunter and fisher temperament, our "pilot" is so sorry not to have a gun on board as soon as he sees a duck! I have to say that this would notably improve his standard meal as he likes neither smoked meat nor dried meat, but we have only that! Then in Dikson, he buys a big piece of reindeer and cooks energetic soups called "borch", as well as generous plates of rice and reindeer meat very well so called "plouf". In Tiksi, the fisherman is back again. From an Evenk, he buys 5 kg of fish, salts them, and later on hangs them on the plage arrière. This livens up the atmosphere on our side during operations (enough of those strokes of bad smelling fish's heads) as well as on gulls side… As we are progressing, we understand an important difference between us: from his age, Boris cannot imagine other habits than those he knew since the Soviet Union period, in particularly the rigid system. No way to think to put into port but well planned and authorized ports of call, even if it is a desert shore.
"Do you have authorization? What about your responsibility?"
Unconceivable failure, even if it is a hibernation camp of our famous predecessor, Baron Nordenskjold! Like a dissension appears, but finally after a cheerful welcome in a fishers village, we can prove him that we are not imperiling our expedition.
While countryside, sea, animals are streaming past, a few put into port let us have a more precise and real idea of the huge Northern Siberia. Distances, the game to guess which countries are on the same longitudes (they are speeding past at an incredible rhythm!) are clearly showing us the measurement.
In each put into port, a bath in a bagna is a Russian habit which we adopt with pleasure. The bagna itself means a lot about the town, as well as about ourselves…
Dikson (73°30N 80°31E, Sri Lanka longitude). Its cranes, its coal piles, its mist and drizzle… A few hours after our arrival, a good bagna seems to be the best way to plunge into the well-being deserved after a animated first stage. Good idea for Boris who succeeds to get the bagna's key for 10 p.m. (2 a.m. local time)… Very simple negotiation: the key for a bottle of vodka; but how amazing it is to see the bagna-keeper preferring the Vagabond tract instead of the bottle! Boys are going first, then Karen and I take our turn. Happy and relaxed Boris shows us how to use the place, and does not want to get out of it! The tiny little wooden house, overheated, offers a big contrast with its fragile and slippery footbridge we went onto, set up in the black sand which color is the same for the severe and abandoned buildings around… Caterpillars nearly stucked, broken windows, piles of scraps all over give evidence of a sad abandon. Within 10 years, the most of the town has been deserted, the ancient Northern Sea Route harbor has given up its glory… Indeed, a nice bagna with view on the quay where are Dagmar and Vagabond, and also some tugboats more or less in good shape. At the entrance, the "pool" looks like a bathtub without bottom filled up with dark water, and a few steps away it is so hot that we have to undress to go further in mind. Two iron basins, where boiling and cold water are mixed, are at our disposal to let us souring ourselves. A twisted iron tube is the shower, hot only for the first minutes… Anyway, a cold shower is really nice after the sauna. This one is so suffocating that we decide to use it on our own way: doors opened in order not to faint ; and we are able to keep chatting from the sauna to the shower only 2 meters away from each other. During this time, cockroaches have a good time, and I hope they are not going on our clothes…
Tcheliouskine Cape (77°43N 104°14E and Australia on the same longitude!). On the 12th of August, on the northest point of our summer dreams, the anchor clings to the ground. A civilian and two uniforms are already waiting for us on the shore, for quick and easily done formalities thanks to Sacha, a bilingual Russian geophysicist visiting the nearby scientific base. Twenty coastguards and a few scientists are living here. A big cairn, supposed from the Vega passing in 1878, and two commemorative plates from indeed the Tcheliouskine passing, are facing the sea and the North. The nice coastguards escorting us verify that our camera lenses stay in the north direction, and certainly not towards the incredible "bardak" of rusty barrels and wreckage strewing the ground into pouring gasoil, as far as the eye can see. Shame? No, just "military secret" that cannot be ignored, controlled forbid. Our fellows with uniform don't last to offer us their bagna. This time, it's the electric light repair taking one hour of time! While two coastguards are busy with their old tools, we are, quietly seated in the heat with Sacha, learning instructions of the place: 5 minutes to get undressed, 25 minutes to get washed and 5 minutes to get dressed again! Fortunately, in this late time and our status, we are not submitted to the same rules, we are free to let the time go lazily. The bagna is calm, the sauna is very small. Difficult to warm up. At the end of the earth. Strange feeling to be so far and suddenly to be away from the world with four raw wooden walls. The half-light of this rudimentary shelter leads to abstraction. I draw in mind the map, the cape and our plan as in a dream. Magical mystic…
The sun in Tiksi (71°38N 128°53E, Singapore longitude), its museum, its cows (!!!), its cleaning effort and its local population with Asiatic features make this town sympathetic to us. Here we are, in Orient, half way on the Northern Sea Route. The smile of the people and the pastoral aspect of baskets full of mushrooms and wild berries increase our pleasure to be on the calm rhythm of a Sunday. We have time to discover the numerous soviet drawings on the walls, to wander around the streets numbered and lined with unavoidable buildings. Two Evenks met in the street come on board. One o them is artist and shows us paintings and different things convertible into cash. Finally, the meeting ends on a artistic exchange idea: before to-morrow, I will draw for him my house, Vagabond, and he will give me a painting representing his traditional settlement built by himself some years ago. Of course, the appointment is to the bagna. The biggest, the most comfortable and the most amazing on my point of view. In the women area, it's nearly a hamam, with steam baths before sauna. Only foreigner, my presence livens up the sauna benches. Women are guiding me and introduce me to a practice I did not dare to grasp: to be lashed against branches. Well! Imagine that it is finally not bad! From the bottom of the feet up to the shoulders, the dynamic and rhythmic movement of my "lasher" lets me relaxed, nearly KO…
The put into port finishes to a museum full of things about great explorers whom Eric, I must say, is teaching us from books as soon as we have time on board ; he is entirely fascinated with the history of this Route. Paradoxically, the strongest memory I keep from this visit is a sound one. Our guide, old Evenk women, improvises traditional melodies for us playing kind of a Jew's harp Yakoute. two hours later, we set sail, the mind full of this music and this cultural share.
Provideniya (64°24N 173°13W, a lot of miles above Fiji Islands). Once more we arrive when it's sunny ; it is a majestic bay surrounded with mountains. Ephemeral sun, just the time to wait for coastguards (2 hours!), before four rainy and misty days. Whales and seals make more attractive the welcome, while we try to realize that we are at our aim. The Northern East Route. Easy to say, no so easy to make it. Vagabond is berthing again… but in the Pacific Ocean this time! At the opposite of France. Winter has to come and go by before we take the way back.
Thanks to Igor Zagrébine, jovial and bilingual person passionate on his region's nature and history - Tchoukotka -, welcome is simple and warm. Without any military or civilian plane because the mist, Samuel and Boris get on board for Anadyr, onto the supplier ice breaker which arrived in the bay like us, on the same morning. Five days later, Samuel is in Brittany, Boris is back to Odessa. We stay three on board, Gerard, Eric and I. To put together the followings and the winter, nothing better than a bagna in the last town on the Northern Route. When I come back from it, a brand new sky, pink and clear, fills up the horizon.
These planned put into port apart, unexpected meetings have been magical: polar bears on the ice, walrus surfing in the swell, whales in group, but also fisher families in Nieskan, the French guy in Ouelen. The dream of a stop to Wrangle too: we wanted to visit its incredible fauna but rough sea, wind, ice and night did not let us go. Anchoring along beaches (not seeing our anoraks, we could imagine to be in Senegal!), ancient Tcoutche camps, or a huge wreck thrown to the coast are so many views telling a lot about those shores. These unplanned instants in a country which gave us so particular permissions are like a breath for us, freedom space taken just because we dare to do so while the expedition was nearly drawing to a close. We taste them with satisfaction, discovering other realities than towns built just for the Northern Sea Route. Indeed, nature expressing itself seems to reward us for arriving up to here.
What a travel distance! It was beautiful, surprising. Strong feeling to enter history, to trace a new wake in our century. Everything has gone as in a dream, like our passing at Bering Straight where a whale greeted us in front of the stem, in the blue mist of the half light and the night. Not on race, simply motivated for care facing up to impredictable expectations, we fulfilled our dream.

Episode 3

Murmansk, a close up impression…

It always takes me some time before I feel like going ashore and wandering in a new town. I'd rather watch it all from our familiar deck: the passers-by, the colors, the coming and going of the neighboring boats, and what an unceasing activity of the harbor! This time, when possible, is a real gift if nothing obliges to go quicker… The horizon is already open around Vagabond.
In front of us, in a sort of floating dry-dock, Taïmyr, a huge nuclear-powered ice-breaker is being re-hauled. Murmansk is the home-base of the impressive fleet of ice-breakers belonging to the Murmansk Shipping Company. They are the most powerful monsters to plough the North East Route. For instance, Kapitan Dranytoin - we saw him in Angmassalik Bay 2 years ago - is just back from a filming session! A life-size publicity stunt for a new car: the ice-breaker being filled with helium is pulled by the car to demonstrate the latter's strength. Hollywood under Arctic skies! The Polanaya Pravda makes its headlines of it on the very day of our first article is published.

And the cranes' ballet. "Night" and day on the docks, their long yellow or orange arms slowly wave across a large section of sky, over the endless comings and goings of coal-laden and emptied wagons. Here, the whole town comes to meet us. Everyone has heard of our story! Silent or inquisitive, sight-seers, civilians, sailors and soldiers want to have their photo taken in front of the red and white French boat. Even a young newly-wed couple have us take them on the front deck!
On the other side of the pontoon, hurrying commuters on ancient tugboats used daily as shuttles between the town and the opposite shore, placidly gaze at us. Those are not on holiday. When at last I venture in town, I find myself at the opposite of the center in wide and calm and straight avenues bordered with rundown houses in muted colors and wrecked rough-castings, keeping secret their quietness. In fact, no enticing shop-windows there. Since the collapse of the USSR, there's no shortage in the shops, everything is there, but it takes longer than a wink to change the face of a city. Murmansk has been on the map since 1917. It was totally destroyed during World War II, then rebuilt as Soviet like as one can make it… Thus, you only have to step through any open doorway into some dimly lit corridor to find shelves laden with at least 15 brands of vodka, a choice of fresh meat, a freezer full of ice-creams, sometimes a shoes corner or a 2m² stationery. In any case, It's bound to offer complete surprise since it merely states "Store" in Russian over the front door! Nice feeling to go unprejudiced, totally unprovided, understanding neither Cyrillic nor Russian. I like this approach, gentle freedom…
After a fortnight without the use of shampoo, using fresh water sparingly not knowing when filling up our tanks would be possible, and after much wandering in town, in showers, sun and dust, the winning option is the "bagna". Karen and I enter, for 50 roubles, the realm of ablutions. For 2 hours if we wish, away from it all, we can part with the dirt encrusted in our skins, thanks to a treatment of hot showers, sauna, cold bath, rubbing and whipping with leafy twigs. How odd to be suddenly naked among those women, obese for most of them, scraping every inch of their bodies with complete concentration! And one has to speed up to make time for all the operations (3 showers for 12 people) and avoid creating jams! One woman can speak a little English and explain the ritual. Then, in the relaxing heat on the sauna benches, conversations start slowly, with meanly winks and discreet giggles, every woman talking freely on what I guess house-wifely topics. All notion of time is lost. The only concern is body care matters. I found it a little difficult at first to let myself go, so new and strange to my mind were the sounds and the surroundings. I have the impression to share the intimacy of those women who let their slow movements, their experienced gestures, the folds of their flesh appear. On leaving the bagna, what a shock to be back abruptly in the cold morning air of that wet Tuesday, to have to step over rain puddles on the pavements and jump away from the passing cars to avoid being drenched. Back to city life!
A few portraits
Since we have been moored to the pontoons (we often have to move to make way for floating cranes!) we have made friends with a number of people. Many believe in our project and have become supporters. It's good to feel this warmth around us!

June 23rd
Yves, a faithful Breton friend from Saint-Quay-Portrieux, calls on us at Murmansk; Ha has been working in Moscow for 4 years, for the Daucy's preserves, and has been trying to find new markets as far as North Russia. Since we met him, on his many e-mails, he has explained for us the Russian idiosyncrasies and passed on most useful practical tips, for instance: have a round rubber stamp pad made with the outline of Vagabond and our name in Russian; ask the administrative officials on board not forgetting their wives who may remind their husbands of our invitation and put in a kind word for us, have our photo taken with those officials as proof of their support!…It is always a renewed pleasure to welcome him on board, all the more he is very familiar with anything maritime and determined to help us to the best of his abilities. He is a keen observer of Russian psychology, opening new vistas for us and providing a helpful contribution in our necessary steps.

June 26th
Slava, our savior when we were waiting for permission of entry, has made up his mind to take us on an outing. For this first turnover of the crew, Eric and myself discover his favorite haunt: the yachting club, about 30 km from Murmansk, by a big lake in the heart of a forest. Everything made of wood in the middle of the woods! Wooden landing-stages, boats, ancient or unfinished buildings. The place belongs to a Murmansk harbor company whose workers are the club-users as well and occasionally the builders. In the yachting club many can tell passionate tales. There, Slava repairs the sails, stores away wind and ice boards. There, projects are born and plans are made, he says. He was one of the team who took part in the great Apostle Andreï adventure, and as a fly-surf champion, an award-winner in every wind and sea sports, he really belongs here. There, he finds freedom from the daily grind. His small study is filled with souvenirs: in a yachting magazine published in Hebrew in 1976, his photo beside one of Kersauson and one of Philippe Jeantot. A considerate host, he has a sauna ready for us, in a delightful wooden cabin by the lake. And Russian-fashion we dive from the dry heat of the sauna into the icy waters of the lake. Slava appears to be in charge of every foreign vessel arriving in the harbor. When a British navy ship arrives, 10 days after Vagabond, Slava manages to obtain for both, them and us, the use of the harbor free of port-duties. Be thanked, Slava!

June 27th
Tatiana! A polar museum in Murmansk? Not exactly. Yet, we are taken round the PINRO museum mainly focused on fishing in Arctic seas, by Tatiana herself. The character delights us, nearly more than the museum itself. Being about fifty, the former keen ichthyologist says she had always wanted to work in the museum and shares her knowledge with us with great zest. Tatiana wants to be fully understood by Eric, Gérard and me, with her funny brand of English colored with strong Russian accent, so she makes great use of her Russian-French dictionary and laughs at her own mispronunciation of difficult words. Right away, we take great pleasure in this exchange, not so much scientific as cultural… Interested in anything to do with the Arctic seas, she is acutely aware of what our project represents and wants to be totally supportive. She passes on the latest maps of the ice-pack, stamps our philatelic envelopes, arranges for us other museum visits, and works hard to get us those recommendation letters so essential for getting administrative permissions in our future ports of call. We ask her on board and she is most impressed by Vagabond. She thinks we are true heroes to embark on such a route. Not quite yet, dear little mother Tatiana!

June 29th
This gloomy wet Saturday in Murmansk, we are expecting a visitor: Victor Boyarsky, a close friend of Jean-Louis Etienne. He is leaving tomorrow with the ice-breaker Yamal to be on the spot when our French explorer and his drifting capsule will be recovered on the East Coast of Greenland. Ten years ago, they had crossed together the Arctic continent with the Transarctica expedition. Nowadays, Victor is the head of the Polar museum in Saint-Petersburg, and his VICAAR agency is specializing in the logistics of expeditions. Through him, we could get our visas and we are happy to meet him at last and have him on Vagabond's board. A flying visit unfortunately as he is arriving straight from the Kilimandjaro to embark on the nuclear ice-breaker! More a man of action than of business, determined and radiating warmth and enthusiasm. He seems to appreciate our boat, and we do too appreciate to meet him. This personal meeting will make our further dealings with him much easier.
A moment later, we are hailed from the landing-stage. Jelena and Sacha speak very good French and we accept their friendly offer of a drink in town. They are both locals, but Sacha spent some time at Pasteur Institute with Professor Montagné. Jelena, both a freelance journalist and for the Barents Press, already suggests an idea in order to be helpful as soon as the next day: some important official from the coast-guard administration will be at the press conference held tomorrow. She suggest Eric should attend and publicly ask this eminent person for his opinion on the permissions we are still waiting for. Having already the local population's sympathy, this might carry more weight and hasten things up! The evening at their home is being prolonged, pleasant time exchanging our experiences, looking at photos and drinking Russian champagne. A few hours later, Karen, Eric and I meet with Jelena for this press-conference. We don't say a word not to reveal our nationality and to go through like anyone, but what great disappointment: after an hour under a rain-shelter, the dozen of journalists are told that the press-conference is cancelled! A logistic envoy, under an umbrella, dictates his short press release to the exasperated assembly. Jelena, disappointed, tells us it is often the case, especially with military officials. Orders, counter-orders... It just shows what hard life a Russian journalist's can be!

June 30th
The world cup Brazil-Germany! On arrival at Murmansk, Eric had called on the SMNG. Boris, head of this geophysics maritime company, seemed to wait for him. Through previous contacts with geophysicians, he already held our boat and especially her captain in high esteem. Meetings with Eric and visits on Vagabond's board confirmed his good opinion, and on our part we had liked the presence, the upright and sympathetic look of this enterprise's number 2. on this Sunday, he takes us first to their private landing-stage, unfortunately rather far from the town center for us, then on one of their research boats for a short ride. A good view on Murmansk and its council blocks of flats from the other bank of the fjord. Then, straight to his office not to miss the opening of famous football match! A buffet is laid with fresh fruits, enticing meat dishes, and the atmosphere is soon warming up with the first goals scored, helped with beer, wine and vodka… Rather unexpected situation to find Vagabond's whole crew glued to a TV screen watching a football match!
Boris has turned into a strong supporter of our project and SMNG becomes an official partner of Vagabond with an enthusiastic letter of support. It' really great to simply arrive and succeed to find a new partner on the spot, well done Eric!
Since we came to Murmansk, Eric and I have been spending a long time each day at the Technical University where Alexander has let us have the use of his office. Telephone, fax, Internet are at our disposal and with pleasure we share the place with Asia, Lena and Olga. The three of them aren't more than 25 years old and are already mothers. Lena is from Dixon, we aren't indifferent to that. We enjoy to chat with her and I like listening to her accounts of life there, their surprise and the shock when the USSR collapsed. She is pleasantly unsophisticated, considerate and determined. Olga is from here. Very much like those lovely dolls met in the streets, she takes delight in wearing highly colored clothes and make-up! Nevertheless, she shows unslackening interest in our plans, staying attentive to the least progress of our situation. Asia, more down to earth, likes to share her hobbies. One evening, she asks us to go with her to look at ancient dances and fights she likes to practice. In the rather dingy sports-hall, 2 boys are practicing jogging and physical jerks, in the middle 3 girls get ready for dancing, Asia coaches a newcomer in folk-dancing, others just chat and go through giggling… No specific uniforms, no definite age group, no one bothers about other people's opinion. A space of freedom and self-expression for everyone. Those who come just to show up aren't pointed out by those who are seriously training. Comings and goings with just a tape-recorder providing the musical background ready to be danced! I let myself go in this young and light atmosphere… Really, what a freedom, always in a back-yard or in mind!
July 14th, final assault
But for us, when's the freedom to go East ??? Eric has been in Moscow for nearly a fortnight. He is doing his best to unlock the doors, to drive our record which has craftily got lost somewhere in the maze of administration offices and untimely changes of positions. Not an easy thing to achieve. For our crew, nothing has moved in our arctic environment, more static than planed. Vagabond is waiting, patient!

July 15th
Well, it's beginning to be really long! For a whole month we have been waiting in Murmansk. We said that we would be patient but it's beginning to become difficult. Eric is still in Moscow. On the phone, every night, I feel his patience wearing thin, we try to cheer one another up. That's not bad at all! With the Russians, it's neither yes nor no… But it is still worth trying, it's not yet time to despair. Will our National Day fanfares open our route? Will our taking part on a national TV program help to snap out of the situation? Will President Chirac get this famous letter begging for support?… Will those careworn Russian officials eventually find our project worth their notice?
It's useless to ask ourselves questions, the main thing is to keep hoping. To celebrate our July 14th, the captain of a tug-boat has asked us on board to drink to our National Day, then taken us on a tour of the fjord. Stepping on the gas, the heavy hull gave us the occasion to breathe some fresh air, to enjoy hearing the waves lapping on the hull, to titillate us long to sail off again, our desire having been a little bit restrained latter days.

France Pinczon du Sel