Completing the Circle
It was time to have another attempt at getting back over to Tallinn. At an internet cafe we checked the forecast, and this time it looked a bit more favourable. So Rachel and I rose early the following day, slipped our lines and tacked out towards the Helsinki customs station in steady drizzle. The crossing from Helsinki to Tallinn is slightly longer than the crossing from Porkalla, but it's still not a huge distance and I really couldn't be bothered going back that way for the sixth time. The Helsinki customs station was, like all the other Finnish customs station, tucked away down an awkward narrow channel far too narrow to tack down should the wind be unfavourable. Thankfully, we were just able to scrape through without tacking, and we soon had our forms filled in and permission to set off.
We made good progress initially, passing the big lighthouse a few miles off the Swedish coast just after midday. In Ransome's day it was a light ship. Racundra had picked up a pilot here on the way into Helsinki, for it was a foggy day. Tired after a hard nights sailing Ransome had fallen asleep and was only woken by the splash of the anchor chain as they arrived in the city. The rain cleared and we had an easy, enjoyable sail, steering deliberately a little to the east of Tallinn to keep out the busy track of the innumerable ferries. In the late afternoon we passed the equivalent light off Tallinn, and then the wind died away completely. For 6 or 7 hours we sat there, bobbing gently up and down while the rain came and went and the ferries churned back and forth a couple of miles away. It wasn't until after midnight that the air began to gently stir again, although even then we made barely a knot. We finally tied up at the Pirata passport control just after 6am, and grabbed a few hours sleep before waking up to clear customs and sail the last few hundred yards to the marina.
I went along to the boatyard office to see when they could lift Teal out. The grumpy old man scowled at me. Not for a few days, I was informed. There was a regatta on at the moment for Dragons - skinny little keelboats about as long as Teal, but sleeker and, I have to admit, rather faster. There wasn't any space on shore for Teal until all their trailers had gone. By then it would be the weekend, but I was promised the crane would be there first thing on Monday morning.
That wasn't too bad. It was now Wednesday, and Rachels flight was booked for Saturday. She was hoping for more sailing before she left, though for my own part I'd have been quite happy to start laying up immediately. An outing to one of the nearby islands would occupy a couple of days nicely though, and would still leave me a day to derig the boat after Rachel left.
We didn't feel much like more sailing that day after the night passage though. We wandered into town instead, and spent most of the day in the lovely old walled city. I arranged my flights home as well - it looked like the cheapest option was to fly from Tampere, in Finland. The flight on Monday should just be possible if I dashed straight off as soon as Teal was on shore.
The island on the western side of Tallinn bay that I had sailed past with Jodie looked like an interesting destination for our last little outing. The following afternoon we waited for a gap in the steady stream of ferries to make our way over. There was little wind, but it wasn't a long passage, and we tied up behind the little breakwater that forms the only shelter on the island in the early evening. A kindly old man came down to greet us; eventually we gathered he was the harbourmaster. Did he want any harbour fees we mimed - but no, he was just admiring our trim little craft. For us, the charge would be nothing.
Naisaare proved to be an intruiging island. When the Soviets moved in 60 years ago, they decided they needed a quiet little island to build a mine factory on. Naisaare fitted the bill perfectly, so the inhabitants (mostly of Swedish descent, as with the islands further west) were evicted, and for forty years no-one but the Russian military went there. Fifteen years after they finally left, the island is only just opening up again. No doubt there will one day be a mine-factory theme park there, but for the moment it is unspoilt. Well, unspoilt by tourism... you could argue that the collapsing buildings and heaps of rusty mines left over from the Russian days have spoilt it in other ways.
Running along the breakwater was a tiny narrow-gauge railway, rusty rails only a couple of feet apart. Following it ashore, it turns south to follow the coast, and we walked along the track that meandered through the forest beside it. About a mile further on we came to a little settlement, where a miniature diesel engine and Lilliputian trucks were in the process of being restored. The houses here seemed to be well kept and mostly lived in - we found out later that they have been turned into holiday houses, although there didn't seem to be anyone about then. A few hundred yards further on were more buildings though that were rapidly falling into serious decay. There were several old barracks, with rows of bunk rooms still with a few fittings left over from the 1950's. The Russian military had the most surprising taste in wallpaper. We poked around the storage sheds and workshops too, with strange rusty fittings littering the floor. Windows were smashed, floors rotten, and the roof caving in in many places, but it was fascinating to pick our way through and imagine life as a Russian conscript sent to this island to build bombs.
Beyond the settlement, which is near the southern end of the island, the track we were on swept round to follow the coast, and the landscape became more open with lots of wildflowers and thick grass. We were in theory following a marked trail, but we hadn't seen more than a couple of markers so far, and now they disappeared completely. The track we were on gradually became less distinct too, until we found ourselves wading through marshy grass. Not far beyond though we picked up another track that lead back into the forest. We were soon out of sight of the coast, and the forest track twisted and turned through the never-ending trees. We felt we were probably travelling in roughly the right direction, but it was hard to tell.
Eventually we picked up one of the little rail tracks again, for deep in the forest were old storage depots for the mines. The branch line brought us out right by the port, and we gladly trotted back along the breakwater to Teal for a late dinner.
It became windy overnight, and by the morning a heavy sea had built up. The scend around the breakwater made Teal tug sufficiently hard on her warps to pull one of the cleats on the cockpit surround clean off its mountings, splintering the wooden surround badly in the process. The waves crashing against the breakwater sent the odd bucketful of spume flying high over it, making a journey along it a little hazardous. The wind was decreasing though, and soon we reckoned it was calm enough to set out on the return leg to Pirata. It was a fast sail to begin with, but soon the wind died to almost a flat calm. After an hour or so of drifting a little breath filled in to allow us to creep over the ferry lanes without incident. Beyond we could see the fleet of Dragons marshalling at the start for their penultimate race. Which way would they be heading? I could see a big orange buoy that was probably the first marker, and our track lay right between the fleet and the buoy. I reckoned we would make it across before they reached us, and I was utterly wrong. The gun sounded and they were off, tacking hither and thither towards us. The fleet soon spread out as they tacked upwind, and they were rather faster than Teal - no matter which way I turned now I couldn't clear them. So we just kept going, and altered course to dodge the ones that did come near, for it would have been a bit rude to get in the way of the racers.
And so we tied up at Pirata marina for the last time. All that was left now was to make Teal ready for the cold lonely Baltic winter. We were allowed to leave a few boxes in the big heated boatyard shed, so at least we could avoid the bunk cushions and the like getting mildewed and damp. We started derigging immediately, for the mast would be coming down and all the sails and running rigging needed to be taken off.
We did have time for one last paddle in the trusty ships canoe, taking it up the river I had been up with Jodie. The following morning Rachel left to catch a ferry back to Finland and fly home. The rest of that day and all the next I spent getting Teal ready for the winter, and on the Monday morning the little red crane I had watched lifting all the Dragons from the water trundled up. We soon had the mast out and safely stowed on the mast rack, then it was Teal's turn. Out she came, swinging over onto the land and the temporary cradle that had been put up for her. I hauled the canoe up on deck and spread a tarpaulin over her, lashing it down as well as I could, for it would have to last the best part of a year. I wasn't too impressed with the job I did, but I had little time - the last of the Baltic was still dripping from Teals keel when I looked at my watch, and realised I had to dash into the city to catch the hydrofoil to Helsinki. By that evening I was flying back over the seas I had taken three months to cover in Teal. It took three hours to return.