Nikolayev Sevastopol, Crimea July 25, 2004 Hi Folks, We hopefully leave Ukraine tomorrow, July 26th. I may be able t send out another log before we leave, but after that, I am not sure where I will find internet access before we get back to Istanbul. I have sent out some pictures and maps of our travels, and have some good shots of the Russian Fleet Review held his morning. All is well with us and we enjoyed the three weeks here in Sevastopol, sailing down to Balaclava for a couple of days, and catching the bus to Yalta for a day there. We have met many friends here at the Russian Yacht Club which is in the process of changing to a Marina type operation to be called Yacht Club Admiral. All the best, Aubrey **************************************************************************** Log #32v Nikolayev At 0600 June 23rd we weighed anchor in a northerly force 6 gusting to 7, using a triple reefed genoa when possible to motor east for about 20 miles before altering into the Bug River channel. Ocakov Control on channel 16 switched us to channel 67 to give us river traffic information. We were instructed to contact RADIO 9 on channel 69 as we entered their area of river control. RADIO 9 gave us information of downbound traffic, and were quite helpful in their halting English. At Buoy #125 RADIO 9 advised us to contact RADIO 5 on channel 12 when we reached Buoy # 128 for the next stretch. This we did, but RADIO 5 did not respond and so we just continued on our way, staying out of the channel and using our river experience to reduce the minimal currents against us, and staying outside the buoyed channel as much as possible. It was still drizzling day and a force 7 wind (28 to 33 knots or 30 to 35 miles per hour) against us as we wound our way the 30 miles upstream to the industrial shipyards around Nikolaev. We passed many large shipyards and industrial docks, with dozens of yellow giraffe-like cranes, floating dry docks, rusting half-finished ships, abandoned derelict barges, gantries dominating the skyline, blue bulbous domes for CNG (Compressed Natural Gas), and even some white grain silos, all standing as silent sentries for a depressed economy. There were a few operational ships loading or unloading at some of the piers. We did not want to stop at Yacht Club Ocean or Yacht Club Zaria as they were in dingy industrial areas using rusting barges for Med moorings, and open to the northerly wind blowing down river. Valeanna Mooring beneath the blue goliath gantry would have been more protected from the northerly winds, but we could not identify it in the industrial maze of jetties and barges, and we were inclined to go up to the Nikolayev Yacht Club just before the first bridge crossing the Bug River. So on we went, around the big s-shaped bend, confused by a midstream island not indicated in our pilot book (be sure to pass to the east of it) and fingers of sand bars and deep industrial bays at Nikolayev, to what we hoped would be a secure and alongside mooring at the Nikolayev Yacht Club. Hah! We had to go quite a way outside the channel to the barge used as their breakwater, and we did not trust our depthsounder. However there was no problem with the depth, but all spaces inside the rusty barge breakwater were occupied by local boats, and a large steel sailing yawl, Ikar, was moored alongside the outer face, without enough room for us to go alongside ahead of it. The skipper indicated we could Med moor ahead of him, and we could pick up a buoy rather than using our own stern anchor. So we circled around through a string of buoys off the barge to pick up one upwind of Ikar so we wouldn’t blow down on it, as we were still in 30 knot winds blowing diagonally towards the 55 foot ketch. At this point, let me explain a bit about laid mooring buoys. There are basically three types, hopefully all well secured to the bottom. In good marinas and yacht clubs there will be a “lazy line” from the buoy to the dock so we can nose to the dock, pick up the lazy line from the dock, secure our bow, and pull back our stern towards the buoy using the lazy line to pick up a heavy mooring line from the base of the buoy, and putting whatever tension is necessary to hold us off the dock, but within stepping distance. This is nice and convenient, except for the slime and barnacles that encrust the lines left in the water year after year. The second, more common, type has a pickup line attached to the buoy that can be used to secure the stern of our boat and adjust it so we just nose in to secure our bow lines and then pull back to balance the tension just holding us off the dock. The third type, and worst (which of course is what we unknowingly had) is a buoy with no pickup line attached. Then we have to approach it, and bending over or hanging by our (Judy’s) toenails grapple it with a boat hook, thread a line through its ring, tie a bowline to it, and lead the line aft as we go forward to nose into the dock, feeding out our line as we proceed. Approaching a buoy in 30 knot winds so Judy can grab it with the boat hook, only to find out then that it does not have any pickup line attached is … disconcerting. We had no line ready! Let it go, and get out a long line that we can thread through it next pass. Judy gets very uptight when she thinks she doesn’t have time to get her lines ready. I tried to assure her that I could circle around until all was ready. Ok, she had the boat hook and an 80 foot line. Up wind (and away from the dock) I went to nose up to the buoy so Judy could grasp it, with the boat hook, “woman” handle it by hand to put the line through the ring, tie a bowline (without losing the boathook overside), and lead it back to me in the stern where I was trying to keep the bow close to the buoy. I chipped a bit of our bow paint, as there is no soft approach to a buoy in 30 knot winds. Finally, I had the line attached to the buoy and headed Veleda towards the dock, being careful not to have any extra line in the water to get caught in the prop. Several people were on the barge dock to take our bow lines. Finally we were secured in spite of language difficulties. After well-meaning people have helped us secure our lines, I prefer to reattach them as I wish, not as others have done. For example, I do not like my lines secured ashore with bowlines or any other kind of cleating. I want the lines led back to Veleda so we can control the tension and also slip from Veleda without having to be ashore to let them go. This we did. However, our stern was held to the buoy fifty feet away by a relatively thin sheet line which I felt uncomfortable about trusting to withstand the for ce 7 winds blowing us towards the dock. So we dragged out 180 feet of old anchor rode to be sure. Dropping Sprite into the water with a strong stern wind was rough enough, but while alongside getting the rode ready the wind and waves soaked me thoroughly, splashing against the hull and cascading over me and Sprite. I didn’t bother with Sprite’s motor, but pulled myself out to the buoy hand over hand against the wind. After threading the hawser through the buoy ring and returning the end to Veleda I was cold, wet, exhausted, and at the end if my tether! Never again will I accept a buoy without a line in any kind of heavy wind for a med mooring situation! Damn it, I would rather anchor off and wait until the wind dies, or skip the damn port altogether! It was too dangerous handling lines, boathooks, securing to low-lying buoys, handling a dinghy, pulling on heavy lines against 30 knot winds. Any error on my or Judy’s part could have resulted in serious injury. Never again! I’ll anchor off! It was 1530 when we first secured and 1645 by the time we had the heavier hawser in place. Then the officials! Boris Nimirov, the helpful captain of Ikar, phoned the coast guard or frontier police for us to identify that we had to go to their offices across the city. It was a 15 minute taxi ride to their compound adjacent to Yacht Club Zaria. Had we known, we could have stopped in there on our way up to check in without the taxi expense (40 Grivnas, about $12.00 Canadian) or the time wasted. However, they were reasonably efficient, needing only two copies of our crew list, and stamping one for our use; it would need to be stamped out before our departure from Nikolayev. It was 1900 before I returned to Veleda to relax and finally have supper, having started the day at 0600. Our position was 46? 58.6’N, 031? 57.6’E, our most northerly point this year. To other boaters masochistic enough to sail in the Ukraine to Nikolayev, I would recommend stopping at Yacht Club Zaria on your way up to check in, and again on your way out to check out (which is what we did upon leaving). Boris was a friendly helpful old salt who did the OSTAR, and captained the Ikar, the first Russian yacht to circumnavigate the globe from September 9, 1987 to return July 1, 1988. These yacht clubs were for the workers of the local marine industries, and they are still in process of “privatization” of the yachts and facilities. Nikolayev was founded by Catherine the Great as a shipbuilding center for the Russian navy. The island we passed on our way up was constructed as a barrier and gun platform to defend the city. Nikolayev was a closed city from WW II to 1999, as it was the ship building center for the relatively modern Russian navy, including its nuclear submarines. A closed city means people coming to the city have to have special clearance to enter, and its inhabitants have to have special passes to travel outside its boundaries. (Similarly where we are now in Sevastopol was closed, as was Balaclava, a suburb. We have met people who have lived their lives in Sevastopol, but were never allowed to travel to Balaclava until it was opened a few years ago in 1996 or 1998.) However, now in Nikolayev the military contracts are minimal and the economy is stagnant. It has a good industrial infrastructure, a beautiful city, but if the economy does not pick up soon, modern development will pass it by, and it will be just a silent whisper of its bygone importance. Unfortunately we have found this situation in several ports of Ukraine. Boris loaned us his 14 year old granddaughter next day to take us around the city to the Marine Museum, grocery shopping and general touring. The Marine Museum was only OK, not worth a trip all the way up here for it. The city was beautiful, with broad boulevards, parks, monuments, and a good transportation network of street cars, trolley cars, buses and minibuses. We saw many sailboats from the yacht club and other clubs on the wide expanse of the river as well as many fishermen on the shores and wading out in hip waders trying their luck. The people were quite friendly. I had a few beers with a policeman and his friend at a shoreside bar. The monthly wage for him was only $148.00 US. When I told him what police in Canada would make, he was agog. People can get by at the low wages in Ukraine, but they could not afford to travel abroad. We found similar situations in Bulgaria and Romania as well. I could live like a king over here on my pension as a retired high school teacher. I find myself mistrusting those with money, feeling that they have not earned it, but have used or abused the system to get that big yacht or Mercedes or whatever affluence they flaunt. There is a minimal middle class here, with a few wealthy and most living at a marginal level. We arrived on June 23rd and left 1245 June 27th, but cannot remember what we did other than the one day with Boris’ granddaughter, and a day for an oil change and routine maintenance. Unfortunately it was a forgettable city. When we left we stopped off at the Yacht Club Zaria to check out. In walking up from the “yacht club” I almost broke my leg by stepping on some wooden planks, over a manhole, that broke beneath my weight. This is a hazard in Ukraine as many manholes (Please do not take me to task for not using the Politically Correct term of access covers!) are missing their covers, and are just open holes in the streets or sidewalks. Walking at night can be risky without a flashlight as few street lights are used in the cities, and it is easy to stumble into an open or partially closed manhole. The officials were reasonably efficient with the officer only having to check with one senior officer to find out that he had to stamp our crew list and indicate our next destination, Kherson, up the Dnieper River, in a few days time. I had to kick Judy again to not say we planned to anchor en route and confuse the situation. So we were back on the river within a half hour to anchor 23 miles downstream (46? 43.6’ N, 031? 55.4’ E) just south of the final sand spit before entering the wide estuary for a pleasant quiet night. Next log