C R I M E A  P A P E R S

  We were the very small warship, entering Crimea waters, prohibited for free sailing. After calmness of Dnepr River, the pleasant nature of local people and dreaming landscapes of Ukraine, we go further to Crimea Republic. Our idealism was like that: every ship has the right to sail and shore everywhere. This was the very Viking background of the whole expedition. Vikings must know no rules and regulations about the open sea. The sea is open for everyone and no one could dictate where to go and where to shore. We are the rules of the sea. We rule the sea.

 But some people, who live near the shore, invented papers. They used to stop us and ask some papers. Only at home, thinking about their position in general, I understand them. They are still afraid about foreign pirate fleet, and mainly Turkish. And we were the same type of warship.

 The Turkish was pirates and Vikings and they didn't know humanity. They conquered Crimea for several hundred years and stole the girls and sold them to their capital's whorehouses. They sucked the richness of the land. They remained no good memory. Russians chased them away in the end of 18 century. There was a great celebration in that time, when Russian tsar Ekaterina the Great were drinking local wine up in the mountains. She declares freedom for this special land, actually Russian type of freedom. And Russia in 19 century was one of the best countries in the world. That's why we leave mostly good memory. And still rule this land.

 Actually I love all these military men, even that Pasha (which sounds a little bit funny in Russian, not powerful and dangerous like in Turkish), who command us to go back. They were friendly for us. But all of them were on duty. It was a good sailing wind and we have to go right now from these bay Laspi, even that is was the best bay we ever been. All of us were sleeping in some pirate’s house, hidden between two rocks, inside the green branches of the smelly trees. The house was some crazy iron construction, climbing the rocky hill. Some rusty iron ladders, passages and house shape too. The floor was a rough wooden plank with the holes between, and the walls consist out of dry sea grass. All of us about 10 people sleep there. The house belongs to San Sanyich, very kind man, the chief diver of the south shore of Crimea. He was eating and drinking with us. Actually I was little nervous because our chief cook Viktor was nervous about the number of people, coming to this yard, and he had no food for everyone. But not the food gives power to the man, but the way we eat it. And one fish might be enough for hundreds.
  The yard was typical Jamaican: deeply hidden from the streets, but open for everyone. San Sanyich was happy, but not talkative. We had very nice evening. To be true, I was not there, Håkan and I were drinking with the marathon crew and their filmmaker, who was interviewed us. They were the same Viking expedition, but from other part of Gårdarike. They were running from Moscow to Sevastopol in unstopped marathon, divided by three groups of people, who changed every 8 hours. Their women were happy, running and shouting on the corridors of this hotel (sanatorium). The filmmaker was famous Russian artist-cameraman.
  And also we've got this border officer's military crew. They met us just after our arrival, and their chief lieutenant Pasha instructed me about further destination and stamped his stamp in our crew list. Our further destination was Faros area, where we couldn't even look at. Faro is famous in Russian history, because exactly there Gorbachov was imprisoned in 1991 by riot communist leaders. Now Faros is also summer residence for some presidents. Probably it is some president's hangout, their secret club.

 Even in Sevastopol we were instructed to get away from these shores about 3 n miles. This was no good for us because of unpredictable nature of Black Sea and our small warship, which have be able to reach shore as fast as possible in the occasion of arising high water. Pasha told me: -In the morning you must call me and I stamp the paper and after that you go. To be true I forgot about it. I haven't forgot it, because I used to deal with it exactly 10 times in every place we stay, but this time I forgot about it. Maybe because we didn't have to stamp at this place because our destination was Yalta and we have to stamp there, not here, but because they find us here they have to make their stamp. And I want not to think about these papers just because it has no connection with the dreamland we sailing into. So in the morning I talked to the other officer on the shore, who looks very young and bright, and ask permission to departure. He was very uncertain about his answer, but eventually said OK. We packed our things and after short rowing raised the sail. We were leaving this bay triumphantly. But suddenly I've got this call on my radio station: bureaucracy. -Immediately go back! My problem was that I forget to sink this station into water just to be free from it. Their problem was that they have to stamp "departure", because already they stamped "arrival". This was our problem too as a Viking ship in Crimea waters. Anyway we have to have that stamp. If we have no stamp "arrival", it would be OK for us just to go, but we've have it. So we turned back and it was the first time we turn our ship back. I talked to Pasha on the shore by phone. -You want war? - he asked. -Not us certainly. We are very small warship. -So wait for me, I soon come. So we were waiting for him several hours, taking sunshine and missing good wind. I was thinking that papers not so important than the man behind them, but this time this small paper was more important. I have no hard feelings against the man Pasha. Even that he was showing us his power. To be true it was a good sunny day and I was happy lying on the beach doing nothing. Eventually Pasha comes. He arrived as an important chief of that beach and makes his stamp.
As our second Tomas might add: -All of that was fucking ridiculous.

The regulations of Crimea area, concerning border line zone, states that every vessel going on the sea, have to ask the permission from military border control.  So if you have a yacht of boat in Crimea and for example you want to go fishing or just rowing to the nearest rock you have to call local border control station and ask "good". If not, you are a pirate and they have the rights to take you. You must have all the necessary papers fixed.

This situation creates a lot of problems and mainly it concerns foreign tourists. The tourist sailing industry is very poor in Crimea, even that it one of the wonderful lands for sailing. It is a real dreamland. Every day and every hour the colour of water is changed if you have eyes. The fabulous rocks are best visible from the sea. You could climb them but if you want to see them go sailing and it is the only way to see their grandeur.

Also it creates special division of harbour self-employers, or just some agencies, who are called "agents'. At the end of the journey I myself became some kind of agent for a foreign Viking ship. It was my aspiration, to become an important agent. But in Feodocia they said to me: -You have no right to be an agent. Your boat have to be proper agented in our harbour. Otherwise you have no right to enter harbour area. I called to Håkan and ask even that I already know the answer. -Do we need some agent?
Strictly no. I've knew that. So I told them No. And this First Chief of Harbour Director gave us no permission to enter the harbour. It was good because we shored at the best place in Feodosia - café Africa with live music and lively atmosphere.

Our first contact with agents took place in Cherson. Håkan and me standing at the strand near River Port and waiting for some man. We were drunk from the river journey and looked like pirate in our dirty and ragged clothes comparable to other people on the strand. Agent came by car with the sunglasses and smell of perfume. It was their firm appearance: perfume, car and dark glasses. Immediately I understand that he would ask for money. I told Håkan, he's got the same feeling.  He was with other man. Other man said that Chumak ask him to do one important paper that we would need at the Russian border. He will do it free of charge. I didn't understand his intentions and think that Chumak paid him already. The paper was the insurance paper for damaging other vessels. I looked at the big iron ships shored at the strand, imagine out wooden stem and stern and thinking about whether or not this stern could cause damage to them. OK. His name is Sergei Milishenko and his insurance agency desperately wants to be an important part of expedition. He is very kind man, interested in Viking fleet, who try to compare curving parts of the Ukrainian Kazak ship Chaika and our ship - which is better?
  All of our ships are better comparable to all flat bottom ships no matter how big they are. That's what this expedition has taught me. OK. Next man paid for our tea and we went to the strand. He said that his agency deal with all the problems, occurring foreign ships in Ukrainian waters, and ask for 300 $. Maybe 200- said Håkan. -OK, 200- said Sergei Shablenko. I thought that Chumak paid him; anyway they recommended us to go to him. So I was thinking about all that connections when he was taking association's money. Next second I thought: We must say just one sentence. -We will think. And we might go to the yacht club manager and ask him how to deal with border control military and custom officers and he might explain that for us and everything might be easier. But instead of it we paid 200 bucks to this perfume man. To be true I was very young that period because it was my first sailing journey. How could I know?

I imagine the worst situation our journey could be. Every place we go ashore we need agent. So we shore somewhere between two rocks and immediately I call to the nearest harbour and ask for agent. Agent arrives by car. OK, I go crazy. Stop that. The proper way to deal with agents is to employ just one of them for the entire journey. He will be paid to deal with all the bureaucracy all the way. That the good way. And we should call this Shablenko every time we've got problems with harbour chiefs or military.  

-Sergey, You must come from Cherson to Yalta and talk to them. But we didn't want to bother him. Actually he did nothing for us we couldn't do. He prepared for us wrong crew list with wrong destination. We just couldn't wait any more so we took this miserable paper crew list and say good buy. It was too much botheration in Cherson, too much words and papers. I started to know by heart all the passports numbers, dates of birth and the full names of all crewmembers. The best person was custom control officer. He came by motor boat, took the picture with the crew, changed the gifts with Peder and said good buy. He was like the good wind. And we didn't need any other agent between us and him. Still we forgot one paper. Rowing from Cherson we’ve got last phone call. It was Milishenko. I told him we were rowing and I have no time to talk. -So you don’t need this paper? -No.
We were so tired of paperwork that we decided not to talk to him. But still we need this paper and later we have to drive to Cherson to get it.

Cherson was a mild experience comparable to Yalta. Yalta was a big Madhouse for me, several hours of absolute madness. We were rowing at night time and desperately have to shore. Everyone was tired and nervous. The town was vibrating by loud music; neon lights were blinking, some people fishing. We were very small ship and our living conditions (Hinken and Dunken) were the worst comparable even to the last bum in town. We have to stay somewhere and take a rest.
 So after asking people from the strand where to shore we choose the main harbour. It was the worst decision. We have to row and row and reach some desolate shore but we choose this very important harbour. To be true I am tired even to describe the whole symphony (cacophony) of different voices from different people talking. First it was three of them: the Guard Manager of Harbour, Military Guard and Skipper of the rich Motor Ship. All of them have there own opinion what we have to do. We have to sleep. But we couldn’t. At the end of endless discussion
Harbour Manager call the agents. Car, perfume, white shirt and a smile, Håkan went mad. -No agents! So I turned my back to them even that they already find the flat for all the crew and said we don’t need anything. -OK, he said, -you will have serious problems!
The problem came at 7 o’clock in the shape of two men coming to our camp and shouting.
-Where is Russian?! I wake up and immediately they said come with us, took our guard stick and we go to the Harbour office. They took my passport, threaten to jail me and ask for big money compensation for entering their harbour without asking, good? Several minutes I was imprisoned there, but soon come good officers. It was like fairy tale end of classical tragedy. Suddenly all of us became good friends. They try to please us, they give us permission to buy food and chocolates, they drive to military for stamps, they explain us the wrong situation. We were so tired we couldn’t even accept it. We have to go from that harbour as soon as possible.
 No sweeties please. Just let us go. Their goodness came from the reasonable thought that the harbour has to have the international reputation of friendly harbour for tourist vessels. And the existed laws and regulations is the big Obstacle for that. OK, we understand that but we were too tired even to think about that. All we wanted was to pack our things and  go home.

And Himingläva was our home.

Vasily Soloviev