In the summer of 2000, my dad took me for a ride on Assol's Angelina Rose 🌹 sailing yacht. After the three-masted ships with fireplaces and guns I was already used to, Assol seemed to me just a soap dish. There was no “ray” or “optimist” in my life, so when Assol leaned down, I thought we were definitely going to die now. But my dad talked about stability, and my fear turned into fun. At the end of this day, I said that I wanted to spend my whole life sailing at sea and now I was dreaming of my own yacht.

The next day, my dad said he had a yacht for me and I should come to the Marine Center. I immediately teleported at the speed of a teenager. We were walking along the shore and I looked around, trying to guess what I was going to get. And there it was, half submerged, dirty with a black side, a wooden rowing boat that I couldn't even move. According to him, I should have repaired it and won the historic race around Kizhi Island. It was a symbol of dad's wisdom and upbringing.

I spent the whole day aboard the “new yacht” and in the evening shared what happened with my friend Anton Yegorov. He said he was completely free for now and could help me.

Meet: A double-edged, seven-meter clinker, traditional boat from Lake Onega, named after the ancestral island of Kizhi, is the Kizhanka sail/bill “yacht”.

Get it, turn it over, dry it, cycle it off, knock out the old caulk, smoke it, wash it, patch it, scan the seams, sail the sides, flood it for a week (so that the wood swells and the seams close), pump it out, check the tightness. This is how the first month of summer vacation went, and I realized that owning a yacht begins with renovating it.

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