It's day four and the weather is not in our favor.

June 28, 2017
It's day four and the weather is not in our favor.

The wind had dropped to 2 knots, which is a running man's speed. A long rain has started.

Evening and morning duty was really humid. We were soaked like stray cats, and so was the ship.

Dry clothes are out of the question; you just want to save the stuff you have left.

The ship is wooden, so it's not leakproof. So all the ships are leaking. Our Shtandart has grown damp.

In order to catch the wind, we're using the motors. By the end of the day there's a nice sidewind and the speed is finally up.

The ship is seriously lurching right, up to 40 degrees. Everything is a mess. You can't lay down, can't walk. It's exciting at first, but then you just get exhausted.

Time to take down the sails to straighten the ship. Four of us go to the foremast, while I'm struggling to keep the steering wheel steady. But the ship is galloping on the waves. Soon the sails are done and we all feel better, the ship and us.

By the evening the birds appeared. So the land is near. It was nearly dark when we finally saw the land.

It's nice to finally see it after several days of endless sea. It is a French city Concarneau.
We're slowly getting to the shore. There's no time to enter the port, so we're anchoring not far away from the shore.

We're taking the sails down and climbing the masts to collect them. They are heavy, a coarse sailcloth. Takes dexterity to tie them. Holding the sail in one hand, trying to throw the rope over the sailyard and pull.

At night at full speed and sidewind it's thrilling. Constant lurch is keeping us on our toes. It's scary at first, but then the work distracts you and you forget about the height.
We're no amateurs and do it quickly. We anchor and spend the night some miles from the shore.

After a hard day like this we sleep very well.

The next morning it's time to reach Concarneau. First we unanchor, which is another exciting slave-like endeavor.

A bunch of men going round and rolling the reel, reeling up the anchor chain. The anchor is about 300 kg, one wrong move and you might lose several crew members. I suppose in old times they didn't really care about that.

We motor up to the shore. I'm surprised about that being so excited to shore. Perhaps I wasn't at sea that long.

We finish the work and go to town.

A regular small town. The oldest and most interesting part is in the big fortress.
They used to build seaport towns to protect them from invaders. Tall stone walls, moats and flying bridges.

We've searched every inch, but still couldn't find a place to take a shower. A decent meal was also hard to find.

In terms of food Europe is sad for a Russian person: constant brakes and siestas. Local cafes and restaurants close early, which is weird because that's not usually the case. The town has died out.

We returned to the ship, is has become our home.
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