Once again, Lena and I have to go from one government office to another in Anapa to get to Sochi – luckily, we are informed about the “special situation” due to potential attacks from the Ukrainian side (I had been wondering anyway how the thousands upon thousands of tourists here could be spending their holidays so relaxed and happy on the beach, at the amusement parks and in the nightclubs, and what the Russian defence forces had to do to keep this stretch of coastline safe from attacks and cruise missiles). Outside Anapa, there is once again no GPS, and certain coastal areas (where oil pipelines enter the Black Sea) are absolutely off limits, as there is live fire! So, once again, we determine our course with a compass, map and compass (and stopwatch) and set off in a wide arc across the sea towards Sochi.
After a few hours, the GPS is working again; we are on course! But apparently no one in Sochi knows we are coming. They check again, while we are sent miles out to sea – until I remember Konstantin, an agent I was in contact with two years ago when planning the trip, who miraculously recognises me on his screen in his office thanks to my AIS and remembers me. He immediately takes care of the clearance, and we are soon able to enter the Sochi Grand Marina. Uff . . .
Well, Sochi is in a league of its own… You can tell just by the appearance of this “Grand Marina”, which is a bit like St. Moritz in the mountains… All the big brands are here, from Rolls Royce to Rolex, as if the word “sanctions” had never reached this place! The ladies are dressed up (or rather, dolled up) and there is a somewhat elitist atmosphere around the harbour. The harbour fees are accordingly: simply unaffordable (for me). But everyone who is anyone and has brought their yacht back from the western Mediterranean in time is here. So I ask what alternative there is for the ArgoFram and am directed to the Sochi Yacht Club a little further south, a veritable water sports harbour that belongs to the sports complex of this metropolis.
Various Olympic associations have their campuses here (athletes, weightlifters, wrestlers, boxers, team sports and, of course, various non-Olympic water sports). I immediately feel at home here; this is my world.
Alexander is a kind of harbour master here – a rough-and-ready guy with charm and a mischievous Mediterranean flair, and he takes me under his wing. There’s no place for me, so he makes some. He also shows me Sochi … There’s a restaurant and a pool here at the harbour, and I can relax. At the same time, I have to say goodbye to Lena, who has had a new plaster cast fitted at the hospital, and organise the onward journey past Abkhazia to Georgia. It’s all a bit much at once. And I ask myself: will Lena and I ever see each other again?