Local mountains are covered by snow:
And the rain forest is soaking:
Last boat is heading home with the hold full of sockeye:
And my story is continued with the episode where another boat is involved. Stressmen 16
Some of summers I spent in expeditions. For example, in 1978 Kostya Cedric arranged my work as a diver for the Laboratory of Sturgeon Efficiency in the Central Institute of Sturgeon Fishery in Astrakhan.
Early morning one day in July the Yak-40 took off Kurumych runway. The Grushinsky festival field looked as a dirty patch on the green Volga’s meadows. After couple of hours we landed in Astrakhan with its cholera. We were very careful and didn’t eat in the cafes or restaurants. On the first day in the river port we took our Kazanka motorboat, bought big sac of vobla and eat only this dried fish in day time, avoiding public places and public transportation using our boat for reaching different places in this city with many water branches and canals inside. In the evening we had hot homemade food, like soup, supplemented by glass of vodka. After several days of my contract negotiations and signing it in the Central Institute of Sturgeon Fishery I got my paper for field work in the Laboratory of Surgeon Efficiency. The laboratory was analyzing efficiency of seven artificial hatcheries in Astrakhan. The goal was to define which technology of feeding is better and what age and size the baby fishes have to be when they are freed for wild life.
The “field” was on the last Volga delta island in the Caspian Sea. Initially Kostya planned to put me on the aquarium boat that cruised between hatcheries and Caspian Sea transporting baby fiches there and providing field camp with samples. Unfortunately aquarium trip was scheduled only in the end of month. Therefore Kostya using all his links in Astrakhan managed to arrange my trip aboard Academician Lomonosov boat that belonged to another research institute, Caspian Scientific Institute of Fishery. They were going to South Caspian for analysis of sprat catching efficiency.
10 a.m. of the 9th of July Kostya and I were staying on the bridge of the Academician Lomonosov vessel. The captain, head of the expedition, navigator and radioman had a morning drink there discussing last events. Kostya reacted to this very positively and proposed our bottle of vodka to their table. It was accepted and the Russian mariner’s breakfast was continued. I described the reason of my presence aboard and the place of my destination. The beacon #95 is the place where boat has to stop for my landing to the lab camp. Kostya made simple sketch of the camp area and pinned this pies of paper on the window frame. This saved me in 12 hours.
Lomonosov managed to push off only after 11 a.m. when the crew refilled their vodka stock in liquor store which was opened at 11 a.m. and not a minute earlier. The sailing by Volga-Caspian channel was blind drunk. The boat moored and several villages on the way where crew had a quick trip to local liquor store for additional vodka supply. By my fortune there were several trainee sailors whom vodka was not allowed. One of them was steersman and I explained him why I am here and where I would like to escape from this vessel.
After sun set captain was on the bridge looking at the water ahead. The beacon #84 happened to attract his attention.
“Stop engine!” – he commanded and changed engine order telegraph to STOP position – “Dinghy overboard!” – and then, addressing to me – “Slavka, I know this place!” – fingering to open water around the boat.
Knowing well how stubborn the captain is and difficulties to take off his command I decided to play by his rules:
“Steersman! Report the number of the beacon we pass!” – I demanded by very loud command voice.
“Number eighty four, Sir!” – young sailor supported my game.
“What is the number of the beacon of my destination?”
“Number ninety five, Sir!”
“Full speed!” – I commanded and steersman changed telegraph for FULL SPEED position.
Captain left the bridge and I didn’t see him again.
It was dark when we approached beacon #95. There were only two sober guys on the boat: steersman and I. And I started to act. I put telegraph into VERY SLOW and switching on loud-hailer started to outcry:
“Levin! Dingy to the boat! Levin! Dingy to the boat!”
And I used search light, beaming to the camp shack that was seen on the right.
I was so lucky that Sasha Levin, the head of the lab, was in place, jumped to the dinghy, switched motor and managed to catch the boat.
Being under overboard, looked at the deck he asked without big surprise:
“All are drunk, of course”.
“Yes, take my backpack, please” – I replied and jumped to the dinghy.
It took us close to one hour to be back to the camp.































