MOSCOW, May 31. /TASS/. Looking at Rostislav Gaidovsky, you notice the deportment and see an open face. He does not wear a navy cap or jacket, and yet, no doubt, you face an officer and a sea dog. Even if you do not know he is a captain, a true "Arctic lion." He tends to attribute all personal achievements to his colleagues and mates. We have talked to the polar explorer and here are a few stories from his Arctic life.
Love for Arctic
"I have chosen my route without any prompts. I grew up in Estonia, on the sea, and I loved it, this probably explains my life.
After the secondary school, I studied at a military university near St. Petersburg, then was a part-time student at the [Admiral ] Makarov [University of Marine and River Fleet], and also studied at the Moscow Engineering and Construction University where I received a diploma of an architect and technology specialist.
In the beginning, I sailed different vessels, across the globe, and in 1972 I went to serve on the Krasin icebreaker, and that life kept me in the Arctic for 40 years.
The youngest captain
I enjoy working - without saying: yes, this I can do, or no, that I cannot do. When a navigator on a tanker, captains gave me recommendations, thus I became a second mate, quickly gained the necessary qualification for a senior mate, and already in 1966 I received a diploma of a long-distance captain, at the age of 26.
In a year, I became the captain of a tanker. Later on, worked on marine floating bases, which moored in the open ocean, uploaded products in the sea and carried them to Murmansk.
Work in the Arctic
On the Krasin (icebreaker) I worked in geology exploration, on islands in the Arctic Ocean. Those were the Spitsbergen, the Franz Josef Land, the Severnaya Zemlya, the Kolguyev, the Sverdrup. In fact, the entire territory from the Spitsbergen to Chukotka.
We made uploading, unloading, reconnaissance works and many others. In the Arctic I had to settle all problems and to manage everything - all by myself. There was nobody to ask for advice. Back then, there was no communication: to call somebody, to ask about anything. Sometimes, I had to think outside the box.
Thinking outside the box
In February, 1981, we received a telegram from the Kolguyev Island, from an oil field. They were short of pipes for drilling. The Murmansk Shipping Company refused to give me a vessel. I had to take a pontoon near the pier, and a small tug boat, which pulled me, carrying the pipes and equipment from Murmansk to the Kolguyev - some 400 nautical miles (about 700 km - TASS).
I can remember it all. We departed in December. The storms were horrible; the frosts were so severe, that over nights the head froze to the wall. On a late night, the cable between the tow and the pontoon broke up. I went up the bridge - the tow’s captain did not know what to do.
We thought, calculated, and I told him: "Let’s take this direction." In about 15 minutes we found the loose pontoon, we get very close to it, try to loop it, but it’s all covered with ice. What to do? Well, I jumped from the tow onto the pontoon, slipped and broke the arm, though managed to pull the cable.
I chose not to return at once. I was wondering - where can I get warm? I had keys to the cars, which were on the pontoon. I got into one of them, but saw they all were out of fuel. I was happy to find some diesel. I warmed up myself. To the morning, I was sitting by the fire in a small pail. We got safely to the Kolguyev and brought the equipment there.
Surviving on the Kolguyev
During the first landing on the Kolguyev in 1980, I lived on the island together with our mechanic for a few days. A boat had brought us there, and then began a storm, which remained roaring for three days.
Clearly, nobody could take us from there in such weather. We had to survive somehow.
We rolled logs, which were very many on the coast. Made with them a tupa - a Saami house of logs. We brought the logs, adjusted them to each other at an angle - here are the walls. The roof was also made of the logs. We stuck moss to seal holes between them.
The house was fine, we did not feel the cold. Nor had we problems with food. The storm was so strong, that it threw out onto the coast scallops and small crabs.
Now, that we chat with that mechanic over the phone, we often remember how we survived back then on the Kolguyev.
Arctic is everywhere
The Arctic was everything for me - both at work and during any time off. In addition to my professional activities, I participated in Arctic expeditions. They were five: on sailing ships to the Spitsbergen; to the Dolgiy Island, where in the time of Ivan the Terrible there was a Cossack outpost; to the Novaya Zemlya and twice to the Franz Josef Land, where during one expedition we made three discoveries.
Strait of Rostislav Gaidovsky
In summer, 1985, we sailed for the Franz Josef Land archipelago repeating the route of missing expeditions. Our leader was Dmitry Kravchenko, a well-known Arctic explorer. The expedition was organized by the Academy of Sciences and the USSR Geographic Society.
Four of us came from Murmansk, we delivered cargos on a whaleboat (a speed rowboat - TASS), providing everything necessary for the expedition. When we landed on the Northbrook Island, where all expeditions organized bases since 1876, I took a gun to check whether there is a polar bear nearby.
I walk, following a map, and expect a connection somewhere nearby, but can see nothing but water. Thus, there were not one, but two Northbrook Islands. I had necessary equipment on me, I determined the coordinates, the length and width, made depth measurements, and while the guys were asleep, I put everything on paper. This is how the strait was discovered.
The materials were sent to the USSR Geographic Society, but must have got lost there. The discovery remained on paper only. The Northern Fleet’s Hydrography Service has filed the documents to give my name to the cape. In fact, I hoped it would be named the Murmansk Strait.
During that expedition we had two more discoveries: we found remains of the Pomors’ houses and a base, used by Benjamin Leigh Smith - a Scottish discoverer of a few islands of the Franz Josef Land archipelago. Over that short season, we managed quite a lot.
Arctic sailing expedition
I even had luck to take part in a sailing expedition to the Spitsbergen archipelago, which the Pomors called Grumant. There used to be settlements, and the locals said they were the Grumanlanders. We went to the expedition with the Polar Odyssey Club on sailing ships built according to old Pomors drawings.
Those were the Pomors kochs (a koch is wooden sailing ship, which the Pomors used for fishing and exploration of new lands - TASS) and the Grumant sailing and motor boat, which served as an escort vessel. I was the captain on the boat, a correcting captain.
The crew’s other members previously had sailed only the Onega, and here - sailing in the sea. The route was to the Spitsbergen, and then into the ice to prove the Pomors could have sailed there on their ships and could have been the first to explore the Grumant-Spitsbergen.
Stone hobby
Over my work, I got interested in mineralogy, collected stones, and then studied them. You wouldn’t believe how many of them were on business trips, and even more were here, on the Kola Peninsula.
I even had topazes from a mine near Teriberka, where they were once mined. I used to have a very good collection. Nowadays, what has remained is stored in Murmansk, in the daughter's apartment.
Many kids, none is a sailor
I have got many children. Four daughters and a son, but none of them has chosen to be a sailor. Though, honestly speaking, I’ve never advised them, they’ve made own choices. In fact, I think, they must make own decisions and then move on in their professions.
My junior is Saveliy, he is 36. His decision was to become a pharmacologist. This year, he’s writing a thesis. The eldest is daughter Maria. Last year, she turned 60. She is a well-known art restorer in St. Petersburg. Stanislava, my granddaughter, followed suit.
I must - I do!
I’ve been a retiree for two years. I am 81 now, and before that, I have been working all the time. The work I did required experience. When I turned 80 - I said: that’s it, that’s enough.
While retired, I want to publish a book. I’m not sure what it will be like. I don’t think it will be big, probably about a finger-thick book. I want to describe unusual works in the Arctic. Over my working experience, there used to be so many unusual and even dangerous situations, that now, looking backwards, I don’t think I could repeat anything of the kind.
Back then, for me in the Arctic everything was elementary: I must - I do!