East Cape, Russian FederationThe morning of our impending 300 kilometer return voyage from Lorino to Cape Dezhnev came around all too quickly. Starting the day at 2:00 am really didn't do much for us either. It was necessary to shower and for me to wash and dry my hair, and of course, put my make-up on.... Imprinted by my impeccable "keeping up appearances" mother, I would not be seen dead anywhere without my make-up. Even at Cape Dezhnev....
And talking of dead.... As I went through the make-up process, I smiled to myself thinking of the stupidly dangerous occasion some years ago when somehow we ended up at a crowded, heated political rally in the militarised zone of far north-western Pakistan. Seated next to some pretty heavy dignitaries (including the Mir of the Hunza), to our dismay we had been interviewed by Pakistan International News Television. "Thank god I had my make-up on" I later related to Alan. His reply blew me away (poor pun) "Yes, it would have been a good thing. Did you know that when people are blown apart by explosives, the head is usually the only part left intact? And what would your mother had thought seeing you on the news without your face on?". Or my head on for that matter.....Yes, that would have been true but I wasn't quite sure the same applied to a drowned body.
Getting ourselves dressed for our boat trip was yet another feat. Stumbling around at that time of the morning, we couldn't find bits of our clothing, tetchily snarling at each other while we tried to find all our necessary gear which had of course somehow moved from where it was carefully placed the night before.
It had been difficult to know just how much to wear under the super heavy clothing Mikhail had brought us. Alex told us "I'm wearing everything.
Man, you guys just don't realise what the Arctic cold can be like. You can die very quickly from hypothermia. And make sure you are fully dressed before you go. You won't be able put on extra clothing while you are on the boat". Hypothermia in mid summer? Before we fell in the water?
In the end we settled for two pairs of thermal tops and leggings, our special arctic fleecy tops and then the cumbersome padded overalls and trousers topped with the anoraks, caps, ski hats, under gloves, gloves, merino neck scarves and arctic socks - and of course our unwieldy rubber boots. Wrestling with my obstinate metal buttons in Lena's warm apartment, I nearly passed out from heat.
Over breakfast Alan asked me how I was feeling about our coming boat trip. "Frigg'n terrified" I mumbled as I choked down a piece of stale bread. "What? Are you worried about being sea sick?" Not exactly, but holy shit I had forgotten about being sea sick. Thank goodness his comment prompted me to take my precious sickness motion tablets.
And looking like ridiculous cosmic freaks, we stumbled in the pitch darkness of a freezing, pre-dawn morning to the place where we were to meet the boat drivers.
A SHOCKER OF A BEGINNING
Alex was waiting for us. Usually bright eyed and bushy tailed, he was not looking all that chipper at that time of the morning.... To our surprise we were also met by local community leader Aleksey Ottoy, presumably the person who had lodged a complaint about us being too close to the walrus a few days before. To my dismay, it appeared that Aleksey and another younger whale hunter were to be the main boat drivers for our two-boat journey to Dezhnev. And as I thought, no-one was looking particularly friendly*
"Доброе утро!" I greeted him as boldly as I dared. Saying good morning to Aleksey however received no response whatsoever. Staring straight at us, almost curiously I imagined, he muttered something to Alex we couldn't understand. I think it was one time my lipstick was not helping.... Later Alex told us he had said something along the lines of "Do these people know what they are doing? They are old. Don't they realise this is a dangerous journey?". It was not a great start. And it only got worse....
So weighted down with our unyielding clothing, we even had difficulty climbing into Aleksy's mini van. And I remember well the look of complete disdain on Aleksey's face as we finally heaved ourselves into our seats. And then we waited for the film crew. And waited.... In the end, Aleksey turned the van motor on to keep us warm. But as time went on, in all our heavy gear we were nearly dying of hyperthermia - and claustrophobia.
After twenty minutes or so, one of the film crew appeared with a huge metal box presumably full of cinematography gear. Surly and totally unapologetic for his lateness, he just kept piling more and more gear into our van. And then he disappeared.
We were not impressed. The evening before we had become somewhat nervous about our generosity in allowing the film team to use one of our boats. After all, I had managed a department of media people for some years and knew how single minded they can be.
At our request, Alex had contacted Mikhail to ensure that the crew although most welcome, would need to comply with our decisions during our boat voyage. It was of course part of our tour for which we had paid a considerable amount. Mikhail assured us that although the crew would do some filming, they would certainly work in with our wishes.
By the time the second film crew member arrived we were more than forty minutes behind schedule. And we were more than aware that our early departure was to ensure we would avoid uncertain weather and sea conditions which were predicted later in the day. To our astonishment, neither of the film crew ever offered any reasons, nor apologies for their lateness. With our van piled with so much filming gear we had to place it under our feet, we finally departed for where the boats were moored. But on the way we had to pick up another passenger - the Border Guard**. We had met this young man on the beach the day we went to view the whale harvest. He was a lovely guy, friendly and very pleasant. But ominously, he had told Alex privately "Just tell your friends not to take a photo of me. It could cause trouble".
And of course, I wouldn't dream of it. After all, I was in more than a bit of trouble for accidentally taking photos of Border Guards in Pevek during our last travels (refer "The 19th Corner: Love affair with Arctic Russia" http://v2.travelark.org/travel-blog-entry/crowdywendy/9/1532072173).
*By the end of the day we were deliriously happy to have had Aleksey as our driver, the most skilled and experienced hunter in the village. And we were very grateful to Mikhail for organising us to travel with him.
**Having us foreigners staying in Lorino, the Border Guard was responsible for ensuring our whereabouts at any time.
THE FIRST BOAT COLLISION. THEN ANOTHER....
The boats were moored in a lagoon at the rear of the main Lorino beach, presumably to protect them from inclement weather and big seas. Both were tiny open aluminium tinnies, although one looked slightly bigger and certainly a lot cleaner than the other. But as Alan went over to the better looking vessel, Aleksey made it quite clear that we were to take the smaller boat; the film crew guys would use the other. Bitterly, I thought how typical this was becoming. We were paying for this trip. We were punctual. And yet the film crew seemed to be able to get away with murder and as well as score the better boat.
Our humble little boat was a mere five and a half meters long. And although it was equipped with a relatively sizeable 115 HP motor, it seemed to us impossible it could be used for hunting whales. And it was fortunate we didn't have much gear with us, just a plastic bag of bread, cheese and fruit, and a few spare jumpers - not that we could have fitted them on anyway, especially after Aleksey insisted that we put on life jackets over the top of our already bulging attire....
To describe our boat as basic would be a gross understatement. And it was hardly decked out for comfort. There were no seats, just a bench on top of a storage unit on one side and a large orange float on the other. At the front was a step you could sit on at a pinch, and at the back there was just enough standing room for the boat driver. Beside the driver was a bench which covered presumably the drive shaft or something important that needed constant care, and on which a person or two could sit when the lid wasn't lifted for work below. At least there were some side rails to hang onto. In the middle of the vessel were two large metal drums of fuel, and a collection of harpoons and long handled gaffs. The floor was still covered with clotted blood from the last kill.
We knew that our transport to Cape Dezhnev would be in small open whalers' boats but what really blew us away was that there were no communications, no instruments and no GPS. Apparently, the film crew had a satellite phone but on our vessel the only means of communication was a simple mobile phone. And for most part of our journey, we had no mobile coverage. Even travelling in convoy with another boat would be useless without some means of communication, we thought. And as it was, for the entire trip we barely even saw the other boat carrying the film crew.
The only really good news was that it was Aleksey's boat and he was our driver.... And that Aleksey was the most experienced and most respected hunter and boatman in Lorino. We were also fortunate that we were joined by his "co-pilot", a delightful and very capable man called Gennady.
I was dreading climbing in the boat with all my gear on but being in still water allowed me to climb in relatively easily over the side. And I would have been quite successful if one of my flimsy boots hadn't been sucked off in the mud, only to fill completely with water. Alarmed, Aleksey and Gennady refused to let me put it back on; instead insisting that I use Gennady's boots while he found another pair.
And that seemingly tiny incident was a great lesson. Back home in Australia, we wouldn't think twice about wearing a wet boot. Only later we realised how insanely dangerous it would have been to sit with wet feet for hours out to sea, in bitterly cold conditions where any moisture can readily freeze and cause immediate frost bite.... Yes, it was a different world from anything we had ever experienced.
Before we left, I was told I was to sit on the float "Let the lady have the most comfortable seat" Aleksey apparently said. There certainly appeared to be a change and perhaps even a softening in demeanour of the two hunters. But maybe, they just felt sorry for us geriatric passengers?
Finally we departed; the film crew boat leading the way. To motor out to sea from the lagoon, we had to cross a very shallow bar, perhaps in places less than half a meter in depth.
We waited and watched as their boat forged the bar. The first part of their journey went fine but then they must have taken too shallow a course and within seconds, the boat had grounded and the motor cut out. Drifting helplessly, several waves took force, lunging their boat into the side of ours with a resounding crash. With our boats tilting at terrible angles, at one stage I really thought both boats could capsize. "Shit", I thought "We are all going to die and we haven't even left the frigg'n shore...".
The driver was by then almost waist deep in water trying to drag the boat back into a deeper channel. No wonder these guys wear thigh length rubber boots, I thought. They eventually managed to start the boat but they were soon back in trouble, grounding out on another bar. With the motor cutting out again, they rammed us for a second time. One of the film crew guys was so close to falling out, it was a miracle he regained his balance and managed to stay in the boat. Meanwhile Gennady was tipped over almost vertical trying to push them away. Things were not quite going to plan....
If it had not been quite so deadly serious, it could have been somewhat amusing. The two film crew guys were given the job of using long poles to push their way off the bar, giving a somewhat bizarre image of a pair of gondola paddlers. But it was not at all funny and they only just managed to get the boat back into deeper water and start the motor again. It was probably a good thing we didn't understand Russian...
WE FINALLY HEAD OFF FROM LORINO: NOTHING BETWEEN US AND THE NORTH POLE...
To our relief, Aleksey expertly guided our boat over the dangerous bar with no difficulties. We were finally out on the open sea, and on our crazy voyage to Cape Dezhnev; nothing between us and the North Pole really...
By this time, we were about two hours behind schedule. But thanks to Alex's generous food donations over the last week, the gods were with us. The open waters were still, glassy and wonderfully smooth going.
And there was just about no swell - which was just as well as Aleksey became concerned about the balance of weight in the boat, and asked me to sit up the back with him and Gennady. Alan was to take the float as a seat. I felt sorry for him. It may have been a bit more comfortable than the hard bench I was sitting on but as it was not secured, it acted like a giant tennis ball, bouncing uncontrollably when we hit any form of turbulence.
As we headed up the coast, Alex explained that some of the derelict buildings we could see on the distant shores were the remains of abandoned villages. The first we passed was called Akkani, some thirty kilometers north of Lorino. For centuries the settlement was home to whale and walrus hunters, but it was abandoned during the late 1950's when all of of its inhabitants were moved to Lorino. Was this good policy? After all, there would be no infrastructure, let alone any form of coal fired heating here for the locals. Perhaps the ongoing funding for its existence was just not a viable option for the government? Only the locals would know the answer. Perched high on a ridge overlooking the open seas, the village remains were a very lonely sight.
In the idyllic conditions, Aleksey gunned our little boat over the mirror-like waters. Alex, an experienced fisherman guessed we would have been travelling around forty knots. We sure were flying. Within an hour, we passed Lavrentiya Bay and in the distance we could just make out the outline of Lavrentiya town's buildings. By then we were wide of the coast and the sensation of adventure and freedom of the vast expanse of sea was euphoric. My fears and apprehensions began to evaporate as we sped along the beautiful coastline.
Some of the headlands we were passing were simply stunning. Steep quartz cliffs reflected the first rays of an early morning sunlight. Some even housed stunted vegetation in the more sheltered crevices. Bird life abounded. At one point we watched as a massive flock of Shearwater circled, gradually forming a solid mass of bird life. Aleksey told us it was a signal the birds were getting ready for their long migration south. And yes, even to Australia where we regularly see these birds also known as Mutton Birds, around our home village of Crowdy Head.
We occasionally caught sight of the film crew's boat. It tended to keep out wider than us, and their was no communication between the two vessels for most part of our journey. During our trip, I often wondered about the logic of travelling in convoy. I was soon to find out why.
But it was cold. And the waters were becoming a bit choppy. At the rear of the boat, although more comfortable than Alan and Alex, I seemed to be in the worst place to get sopping wet; my camera lens also covered with sea spray. Despite two pairs of gloves and my arctic socks, my hands and feet were frozen; the best way of keeping them warm was to try to vigorously to clap then rub them together. Gennady noticing how wet I was getting, kindly put yet another whalers' coat over me. I wondered if Alex and Alan were as wet and cold. But it was by then becoming bumpy and the noise of the boat made it impossible to converse.
Blunt vertical cliffs made way for stretches of open, flat barren tundra. And then we would pass by more curiously shaped, beautiful headlands, some with splendid rocky pinnacle formations, others almost conical in structure. The sheer nothingness of the landscape was spell binding.
I tried to absorb what I was seeing. It would of course looked almost exactly the same as when Captain James Cook navigated this coastline back in 1778, naming Cape Dezhnev as the somewhat nondescript "East Cape". And what a voyage it must have been in those days with only the stars to navigate by and small, rudimentary sailing ships in which to travel. Shivering and wet, I wondered how they would have managed to keep warm. Ruefully I reflected, it would have been a bit like what we were experiencing....
After some three hours of travelling, I was wondering how or where we may have a relief spot. Now I am very adept at using a jug when I'm out to sea on my friend's boat back home - and I had brought a cut off water bottle with me for this very reason. But on this occasion, it was impossible. We just couldn't move in all our clothes and there was simply no way I could pull down all my layers and manage in these choppy conditions.... I wondered how Alan was faring, especially as he has the additional difficulty of having an artificial bladder. As he turned around, he raised his eyebrows and grinned. I knew he was probably in the same situation.
Aleksey and Gennady must have been thinking the same. After we headed past some simply stunning headlands studded with spectacular marble seams, Alex announced that our drivers were trying to find a spot to moor. It was not easy. The first inlet they found meant crossing what looked like a very shallow and turbulent bar. After several attempts, they gave up saying it was just too dangerous, and we headed south to a more sheltered spot on a lonely beach. Through Alex's careful interpretation, Alan and I were to be allowed to alight from the boat "so that the lady could have some privacy" while the others would head further north. There was no point in attempting a difficult translation of "Please don't go to too much trouble. I am not that concerned about having such a degree of privacy...." We gratefully accepted their kind offer. Alex thanked them on our behalf. Aleksey nodded.
Mooring the boat on the beach was not easy either. Although it was relatively calm, the shore waves rolled our little boat around, making it very difficult for Aleksey to manoeuvre and even harder for us to get out without getting water into our boots. Somehow we clambered off without getting wet. Watching as Aleksey's boat disappeared into the misty distance, it was a very strange feeling to be just the two of us on this lonely beach, hundreds of miles from civilisation in the far northern Russian Arctic.
The temperature was no more than 2 C and undressing from our space suits even on land, was almost impossible. As I tried to regain my land legs, I cursed at my trousers' metal buttons as they bit cruelly into my frozen fingers. There was even one horrible moment when I thought I would never get them open....
Out of breath, we collapsed on the gravelly beach, finally able to relax and enjoy the splendid isolation. Near the shore was a fascinating rock stack, simply covered with birds and the guano of centuries. Behind us in discrete locations along the rocky cliffs were pockets of snow white ice, remnants of a long gone winter. In the far distance we could just make of the vague outline of Ratmanov Island***. Beyond was Alaska. Totally alone, this was truly "fantastic stuff", an experience we knew would be impossible to re-tell, even in a blog.
Getting back on Aleksey's boat was no laughing matter. In all my heavy unyielding gear, I just could not spring up the boat's bow, especially as it was surging around in the surf. Having short legs didn't help either. I have always prided myself on my fitness and agility, and I found the experience distressing (aka Acute-Realisation-of-Old-Age-Anxiety), as well as horribly embarrassing. Finally, with Alan's and Alex's assistance I lurched face down onto the bow and dragged myself in limpet fashion until I could get my legs on board.
Lying like a beached walrus on my stomach, I looked up at Aleksey thinking "Holy shit, what on earth would he be making of all this?" This time, it was not a look of disdain but rather one of concern. From here on in, Aleksey's behaviour toward us became much more amicable. As we sped north, I was hoping he was thinking we weren't quite as bad as he had anticipated. Some twenty minutes later, ahead of us loomed a mist clad headland. It was our first sighting of Cape Dezhnev. And one we will never forget.
***Ratmanov Island is one of two islands in the Bering Strait located about half way between Cape Dezhnev and the Alaskan coastline.
Ratmanov, otherwise known as Big Diomede Island belongs to Russia while the smaller Little Diomede or Krusenstern Island belong to the USA. Bizarrely, they are separated by the International Dateline, meaning that Big Diomede is almost a day ahead of Little Diomede.
THE MYSTERY, SPLENDOUR AND GLORY OF CAPE DEZHNEV
I had always half expected that the questionably insane decision for us to travel by boat to Cape Dezhnev might have resulted in a huge disappointment. Well, it was another headland after all, of which we had seen many. We even live on one. The night before Alan had laughed "I bet when we get there it will be a big fizzer. Just another non-descript rocky headland, like every other. And most probably one we should not risk our lives over....". I silently agreed. Fortunately, nothing could have been further from reality.
I know it is a tired cliche, but there were no words to describe our first sighting of Dezhnev. Shrouded in heavy fog, the spectacular 740 meter sheer cliff face towered above our boat. The very top heralded craggy pinnacle like structures, endowing it with a spookily mystical and somewhat foreboding presense. Vertical columnar rock formations lined the cliff face. Carved into the base of the headland were a number of deep, dark cavernous openings. Nutrient washed, they were clad in rich luxuriant green algae. Pockets of ice still clung to the headland's rocky apron. Here is our arrival: https://youtu.be/ykU5YSW7Gmk
And as the fog lifted Dezhnev became alive in all her splendid glory; an unforgettable and emotionally uplifting experience. Deeply aware that it was a miracle we had made our once-in-a-lifetime journey to the Cape, we knew it was just as extraordinary that the mist was clearing to reveal her wonderful presense. Cape Dezhnev was everything we could have wished for; a splendidly majestic and hauntingly beautiful geological masterpiece.
Straddling the International Dateline, she is the most easterly point in Asia, and almost the most westerly point in Europe. Dezhnev is also located at the convergence of the Pacific and Arctic Oceans and where the cold currents of the north meet with the warmer waters of the south; a perfect brew for a perfect storm with extreme winds, summer fogs and sudden snow storms commonplace. Everything about Dezhnev was extraordinary. And unpredictable.
There has been only one other place in the world that has had such a deep seated impact on us. It was the sighting at dawn of the magnificent Lady Finger Peak in Karakoram Ranges high above the tiny village of Duikar, in northern Pakistan ("Restless Lands...." Blog link: http://v2.travelark.org/travel-blog-entry/crowdywendy/3/1297536069); almost as an unlikely a place as the most easterly point in all of Asia!
Aleksey stopped the motor and for sometime we all sat silent, gazing at the spectacular sight. I wondered if Aleksy and Gennady were experiencing the same feeling of awe as we felt. Obviously, they didn't do this trip very often and from their demeanour, they were looking similarly spell bound.
And then Aleksey did a very strange thing. He motored our little boat right into the largest of the cavernous dungeons beneath Dezhnev. With Gennady up the front giving directions, our entire boat entered into the darkness of the cave.
Alan and I looked at each other incredulously as we remained in the bowels of Cape Dezhnev for several minutes. With waves crashing behind us, it seemed like a pretty dangerous, even bordering on reckless act. I couldn't help but think of the twelve boys who were recently rescued for being trapped for nine days in a water filled cave in Thailand. Only here we had the Arctic Ocean to contend with....
It was not easy for Aleksey to reverse the boat out of the cave, while negotiating the choppy waves at the cave entrance. Whilst relieved to be out of the cave, it had been a fantastically exhilarating experience. And we realised that it had been a special treat for us, for which we felt highly privileged, As we motored away from the base of the headland, Alex began videoing. And here is what we saw: https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=2207884649238963&id=100000523483052
BREAKFAST AT NAUKAN - ONE OF THE TWELVE MOST INACCESSIBLE TOURIST DESTINATIONS IN RUSSIA!
Motoring slightly north of Dezhnev we looked up the jagged pinnacles adorning the cliff top. Some of the grotesquely shaped rock formations looked like animals; others looked like birds. Aleksey pointed to a particularly beautifully sculptured structure in the shape of a perched eagle.
The area was once inhabited by a discrete tribe of Eskimos known as the Nyvukagmit people. According to legend, the mountain tops here were inhabited by giant eagles which like the indigenous inhabitants hunted sea mammals; some strong enough to carry up a whole whale. And this extraordinary rock apparently was symbolic of the legendary tale.
Some seven kilometers north of Dezhnev, we arrived at the abandoned village of Naukan. Perched high above the coastline on a rocky precipice, the tragic little village of Naukan was absolutely captivating.
Naukan was once home to a thriving mammal hunting community of some 400 people. The seas of Naukan and Dezhnev had provided excellent hunting grounds for whaling while the broad pebble beach was a convenient spot for landing the mammals. Today, only the relics of an old fortress still remain as do some of the former wooden buildings. On the top of a hill above the fortress is a lighthouse and a monument dedicated to Siberian Cossack Semyon Dezhnev whose expedition was the first to reach this region. To the south is a line of vertical whale bones.
And once again, we sat spell bound absorbing the history and great atmosphere of this lost little village. After all, what we were seeing (minus the lighthouse and monument) would have been almost the same as what Captain Cook sighted some 240 years before. And it was not lost on us that Cook only a year or so before his voyage here, would have sailed into Botany Bay, founding present day European Australia. The contiguity of Cook's voyages was mind blowing.
Rather than the remains of wooden buildings however, Cook saw the indigenous Eskimo housing; everything being constructed of whalebone and hides. Cook describes these in his journal:
"...(They were) pretty large, and circular and brought to a point at the top; the framing was of slight poles and bone covered with the skins of sea mammals.... (They were) erected in several stages ten or twelve feet high, such as we had observed on some part of the American coast, they were built wholly of bones...." (Cook, Journals III, I, 413)
Looking at the topography and considering the harsh extreme climate, it was impossible to imagine how people could live here with nothing other than their skills and ability to source most of what they needed from the sea. And even then, how did they drag parts of the carcasses up the acutely steep cliff above the beach? How did they access fresh water? There were no trees for timber and no coal for burning. The only source of fuel would have been whale blubber and their clothing and tents would have presumably been made from walrus hide. With very short summers and winter temperatures able to plummet to minus 40 C, an existence in Naukan was unimaginable. Sadly, like many of the smaller villages in the region, Naukan was forcibly abandoned in 1958.
It was time to stop and have some breakfast. And what better place than in front of the enchanting Naukan village?
Aleksey and Gennady generously offered to share their bread, military butter and cans of tinned meat and vegetables, as well as thermos flasks of tea. Alex hopped into the food while Alan and I decided to eat some of our Mars Bars. There was no way I was going to touch anything liquid. My latest experience of trying to clamber back in the boat was enough for me to try to minimise any further relief stops. Alan shared my convictions!
To my disappointment, I found my Mars Bar disgusting. I had not eaten one for probably some forty years and I must have forgotten how shockingly sweet and fatty they were. "Oh well, I guess the sugar may dehydrate me" I consoled myself. Meanwhile, the ever voracious Alex ate bread and drank tea with great gusto. I felt envious.... The food did look good; a lot better than our stale bread provisions.
We were at last enjoying the company of Aleksey and Gennady. Now friendly and very engaging, they spent some time asking (via Alex's interpretation) about where we were from and not surprisingly, why we were in far eastern Russia and why we wanted to travel to Cape Dezhnev.
While we were chatting, Aleksey received a phone message from his colleagues warning that inclement weather was approaching Lorino. He asked if we would like to go ashore at Naukan and walk up to the monument. We would have time if we kept our visit short.
Alex was dying to do the trip and we would have liked to as well. But there were two issues. Most importantly we didn't want to hold up the journey back to Lorino and secondly of course, neither us us was keen to do any more landings on shore than was absolutely necessary!
Aleksey looked pleased. But we almost immediately lost his attention. He had spotted what appeared to be a dead whale floating out to sea. Aleksey wanted to investigate the corpse then head back to Cape Dezhnev and begin our journey back to Lorino. We were scheduled to visit the village of Uelen, some half an hour north of Naukan but given the weather warning Aleksey and Gennady had obviously decided to give it a miss. In the ideal conditions, it had taken us only four hours to get to Dezhnev but as they explained, if the seas came up, it could take us a lot longer on our return journey. It sounded highly sensible to us. We were more than ready to head back "home".
AN ALTERCATION AT CAPE DEZHNEV
The film crew's boat arrived at Naukan just after us. They had been filming along the coast and as their tiny drone flew overhead, we hoped we may be able to later obtain some footage for ourselves, and possibly for use in this blog. It was we thought a small ask, but it was not to be.
Aleksey drove up alongside their boat where he and the other boat drivers had an intense conversation; most probably we thought about the impending sea conditions. When Alex overheard that the film crew intended to go ashore and do some more shooting, we asked him to relay that because of the weather predictions, we intended to leave immediately. And for obvious safety reasons they should come with us. Our request had absolutely no effect. With no reply, their boat immediately took off for the shore while we watched on helplessly.
The film crew had terrible trouble mooring onto Naukan beach. With choppy waves and a strong current running against the shoreline, the team could barely hold the boat, let alone jump ashore. Alex desperately called out again to them to abandon their plans. To our astonishment, the second crew member (name withheld) stared defiantly at us and with clenched fists, crossed his arms in an obvious "get stuffed" gesture.
Fuming, there was not a thing we could do other than wait for them. Aleksey pointed out some killer whales in the distance and we circled for at least half an hour. We tried to take photographs but we knew that we were merely filling in time waiting for the film crew. Understandably, Aleksey could not or would not, venture off without them.
Eventually we headed off south. Darkening skies and swirling clouds signaled a change in weather. Alarmingly, the seas were beginning to get more than a bit choppy. After travelling for around an hour and half, Aleksey suggested that we pull into a beach where we would have the opportunity for a toilet stop, and also we guessed to spend some time waiting for the other boat. Thinking we were much further toward Lorino, we said we would be OK but Alex insisted - which turned out to be very wise. In the rougher seas, our progress had been very slow and unbeknown to us, we were still a very long way from Lorino.
The beach was fortunately sheltered and mooring was not a problem. Gambling up the hillside were three brown bear cubs and their mother. It was rather lovely to see them, but I couldn't help feeling we were a bit vulnerable, especially when we would have to virtually undress to relieve ourselves!
Interestingly, the beach was littered with timber washed in from goodness knows where. There was certainly no timber for thousands of kilometers from here. We had heard that a lot of timber floats down from the Lena River into the Arctic Ocean. But that was a very long distance from where we were.
Somehow, with the assistance of Alex and Alan, I managed to struggle back into Aleksey's boat. And within the sheltered bay, we waited and waited for the other boat. Aleksey tried in vain to call the other drivers but to everyone's frustration, their phone had been turned off.
And then it became ugly. Well aware, that the selfish film crew were putting everyone's lives in danger, a simply furious Alan demanded we leave without them. Alex tried to reason with him, explaining that there was no way a Chukchi Lorino hunter could leave his comrades on their own at sea. "But it's their bloody fault!" thundered Alan. Distressed and totally exasperated, poor Alex bore the full brunt of Alan's fury. Aleksey and Gennady just looked straight ahead. There was no need for any interpretation.
Another half an hour later, the other boat appeared. As we later found out, they had been moored out of our sight while film crew did some more photography. "Oh, we were trying to contact YOU" muttered second film crew person, lamely. By then, the film crew had delayed us by another two hours.
A HORRIFIC TRIP BACK TO LORINO
To our further indignation, the film crew boat didn't hang about. Screaming off toward Lorino at the rates of knots, they were quickly out of view. Looking at their boat crashing down at all angles on the now sizeable swell waves, I was pleased we were with the steady and experienced Aleksey.
It sure wasn't much fun. Within a very short space of time, the swell had increased from slight to frigg'n enormous, with waves occasionally breaking on the tips. Aleksey was now steering using the tiller, totally focussed on keeping our little boat from crashing out onto the waves. But it was to no avail.
As the waves became bigger, all we could do was to hang on as tightly as we could. It was no joke. There was every possibility of one of us being tossed out overboard, especially Alan who became airborne on his float every time we hit a wave. And they were endless, kilometer after kilometer....
I thought of Alex's parents' warnings. Yes, big seas could come from nowhere and fast. At one particularly frightening time I remember thinking what a waste it would be if we all died out at sea.
In a valiant attempt to keep our boat from capsizing, Aleksey managed to surf the vessel down the side of each coming wave. We only needed one mistake on his part and our little craft had every chance of coming to grief. Several times the boat became airborne on its side some meters above the sea, only to somehow crash into the gutter before the next oncoming wave - and miraculously keep going. It was absolutely terrifying.
Alex and I have very few photos of our return trip. There was of course no way either of us could spare one of our hands let alone risk losing a phone or camera. We were all just hanging on for our lives; frightened, dripping wet and fearfully cold. For that reason I am inserting the above photograph of big seas in the Bering Strait, which we agree is highly representative of the ferocity of the seas that afternoon.
DECISIONS AT LAVRENTIYA BAY
It had taken us some seven hours from the time we had left Naukan to our arrival just wide of Lavrentiya Bay. Distressed and exhausted, we wondered if we were ever going to make it back to Lorino.
Aleksey and Gennady obviously thought the same. It in their opinion, it was far too dangerous for both boats to proceed any further, and had decided to motor into the safety Lavrentiya Bay where they would moor for the evening. They would organise for a truck to come from Lorino to pick us up, and then bring the boats back later when the seas calmed. At the back of the boat, I had not heard the conversation. All I knew was we had at least an hour or two to go.
According to Alan and Alex, as we headed toward the bay, Aleksey received a call from his Lorino hunter colleagues to advise the seas were calming slightly, and it may be possible to make the voyage safely back home. Aleksey then asked Alan to make a decision; to pull into Laventiya or to keep on course to Lorino? Naturally, Alan said he had no idea but if Aleksey thought it safe enough to keep going, then he would be happy to motor on to Lorino. Which we did.
The film crew boat arrived not long after the conversation. Somehow they had run out of fuel and needed to be refuelled using our supplies. It was really the last straw. As their boat pulled right along side ours, I glared at the two film crew. Leaning as far as I could into their boat, I couldn't help but hiss "Well, I hope you two are really pleased with yourselves". They just looked at me. Was I at all surprised? .
Re-fuelling their boat in the big seas was not an easy task. It was what poor Gennady had been doing all day with our own vessel, syphoning fuel by mouth through tubes which always seemed to lose vacuum at a critical time. From what I saw, Gennady must have swallowed a lot of fuel.... But fuelled up, the film crew were off again like the clappers back to Lorino.
Not long after we spotted a really tiny boat with a family aboard. The seas were still considerably rough and concerned about their well being, Aleksey motored over to talk with them. To our surprise, the boat housed two adults and two very small children. They were fine but uncertain as to whether they would head back to Lorino, from where they started their trip. The last we saw of them, they were heading back behind us.
A WELCOME HOMECOMING - BUT WHAT A PERFORMANCE I MADE....
In the distance we could just make out the township of Lorino. And I never would have thought I would have been so pleased to see the sight of a dirty coal burning power station! But the sight of the cloud inversion, flattening out the thick back spiral of smoke from Lorino town was like a good dream come true. Lorino was well within our sights and even the sea had calmed a little.
We had quite a crowd at Lorino beach to greet us, although it probably more accurate to say "greet Aleksey and Gennady....". As small tractor winched our boat way up the gravel shores, Alan, Alex and I grinned to each other. There was no need for any words. We were all just very relieved to be back in one piece.
But there was more to come. Pleased that I didn't have to worry about getting into the water, I sprang (well I meant to) off the top of the boat onto shore. But I had not factored in my drunken sea legs nor my complete lack of balance after some thirteen hours of being rolled about in rough seas. I didn't fall onto the ground. Rather, with no support from my arms or legs, I speared head first into the shore. With my mouth full of gravel, I looked up to see to my horror a group of astonished locals looking down at me.
"For god's sake. Help me up and get me out of here" I hissed angrily to Alan. "I am sooo embarrassed". Obviously everyone else was too. Even Alex and the other boat members had rightfully disowned me. Meanwhile I noticed the film crew stealthily walking back to their apartment.
It was a great relief to hide in the safety of Alekey's mini van. As we thanked him and Gennady profusely, I think I saw him smile ever so faintly. God only knows what he thought of "The Old Australians"....
Shilpa Merchant
2019-01-22
Wowww Wendy was a pleasure reading about your adventures .I take inspiration from you .