Sailing through Russia

On the western side of Lake Ladoga, Dalyokaya Bukhta (60 deg 34.33N/30 deg 40.88E) is a peaceful, forested bay, guarded by two spectacular cardinal marks.

The water was glassy and the bay deserted but for two immobile fishermen and some sea otters frolicking on the rocks. Blue Dove is back in her element. Feels just like our time on the Volga.

After morning douches in Ladoga’s fresh waters we shared coffee with a couple of curious locals who motored by.

We are under constant surveillance by the authorities, who phoned us this morning to ask why we hadn’t told them of this stop en route Valaam. This drives our skipper crazy.

It is only 15 miles to the 14th century monastic island of Konevets, where we can wait out some rain and fresh northerlies for a couple of days, stretch out legs and explore.

Boat business is smooth. The new windlass is superb and our only unresolved issue is preparing the anchor. Its shackle is too big for the bow fairlead so you have to personhandle the anchor out through the pulpit. More than Maxine can manage. The solution is simple – an Italian slimline Kong connector, probably the most important item on her to do list. For now her elderly crew will do the grunt work. As he does.

Such a relief to leave the Neva headwaters at Schlisselburg, out into Lake Ladoga. Schlisselburg itself has almost nothing to offer cruising yachts but we found the cosy little retreat recommended to us by our Danish friend Asgar and spent a calm night there.

Passing the Orochek Fortress (known as the Tsarist bastille) we finally escaped the relentless Neva current. 25 miles north an offshore breeze kicked in and at last we were sailing. Madam was overjoyed and would not let go the helm.

The River Yacht Club in St Petersburg, housed in an ugly soviet brutalist building, used to offer snug berths inside its huge stone moles. Now the yacht harbour is closed to foreign yachts, which now must tie up outside on fragile pontoons in the river. A steady 2 knot current and heavy wash from relentless jet skis and motor vessels make for unpleasant layover. There is room for just 3 yachts and, to cap it all off, a dreadful nightclub sits immediately adjacent to the pontoon. Leggy, bling-raddled young things, self-important males wearing white shoes – that sort of thing. Our hull vibrates with electro-thump every night. Current Baltic cruising guide advice notwithstanding, I must say the River Yacht Club should be avoided at all costs. Krestovskiy Marina opposite is much more expensive but can only be better.

We are now ready to sail up the Neva River through central St Petersburg, on to Lake Ladoga. First though, a side trip to Moscow to catch up with old friends and get Maxine’s nails and hair done. All very familiar.

We first met Russian yacht Apostel Andrei at Barentsburg (Svalbard) in 2012. A surprise and a delight to come across Nikolai Litau and his robust ice breaker yacht again here in SPB. Such a contrast with Dutch-build yacht Mulligan – each of them happy ships and splendid vessels but stylistically irreconcilable.

We drank much too much vodka, as to be expected. Nikolai is shortly to depart for Archangels’k and Novya Zemlya and how we’d love to join him. For now though, a cheerful cockpit feast with gallons of vodka. Tomorrow night we will take on our pilot for the journey through the St Petersburg bridges and on up the Neva. We pick up the pilot at 2 am!

The 30 mile trip from St Petersburg to beginning of the Neva River at Lake Ladoga is a slow one, with a relentless contrary current, varying between 2 and 4.5 knots. We anchored half way to catch up on sleep.

Our decision to stay an extra night was made easy by heavy rain and hailstorms. Madam, who had borne the stress of negotiating pilotage arrangements, mandatory radio reporting and heaps of other bureaucratic folderol, slept for nearly 30 hours. Our anchorage was secure and Blue Dove felt exceedingly snug down below. 

Sometimes a day could not end better. After that long trip up from St Petersburg we have anchored off the densely forested shore in 5 m of water, Blue Dove held steady by a 1 knot current. Maxine has gone to bed and I shall follow shortly.

The silence is broken only by bird calls and a soughing wind. The evening sun is warm. I sit in my birthday suit, sipping a glass of fortified mango juice and watch the endless parade of commercial vessels heading from Lake Ladoga down to St Petersburg. It is only 4 pm but after a sleepless night we are both buggered.

Rain and fresh northerlies are forecast so we will stay here tomorrow and laze.

Our journey upriver through St Petersburg was spectacular. We had rafted alongside a huge river barge and took on our pilot at 2 am. Blue Dove, the only yacht, joined a procession of commercial behemoths heading up the Neva. There are 8 bridges through the city, which open in sequence between 2 and 5 am only. Their lighting provides perfect counterpoint to the historic buildings along the shores. A long night for us both, the moreso as we had not slept during the day. After the Finland bridge we lay to a vacant cruise ferry wharf, dropped the pilot off  and collapsed into bed, knackered, for a couple of hours.

Approaching the Neva

rafted up and waiting for the pilot

the bridges open

The Winter Palace

A long, hot and windless trip from Tallinn finally, finally brought Blue Dove to St Petersburg. En route we stripped off for much needed douches in the Gulf of Finland.

Sailing through the barrage into St Petersburg Bay was still an exciting moment. Max was elated and even I felt a bit excited.

Customs and immigration formalities now take place at the old military port of Kronshtadt, just inside the lock gate. Still the same tedious bureaucratic formalities, but it is now a much simpler process, supervised as always by our splendid friend Vladski (Vladimir Ivankiv). There is a peaceful marina of sorts in Kronshtadt and we spent a quiet night alone there.