Of course, after the work was completed, you should have gone on a trip right away. I decided to test our strength by paddling to the city's waterfront. At that time, it was the main place in the city, where summer was an eternal holiday. At the center of this festival was a restaurant-disco barge with the proud name “The Ark”. Close to it was the Polar Odyssey Maritime Museum, two ships tired of expeditions: the Pomor nomad and the Love boat, as well as a copy of Peter the Great's boot. My restored “cowhide” fit very comfortably into the composition, but on a commercial and business basis with a local watchman.

As you know, summer in Karelia is long, bright and warm, at least that's what it was in 2000. And every day I practiced traditional rowing along the waterfront in P. One day a man from the shore called me out. He was clearly a visitor and felt very confident in the company of a local student. “Young man! Do you ride or do you just row like that?” Of course I'm riding, I said. “And give us a ride for $10.” Wow, I'll put them off right away for my trip around the world, I thought. He promised to look after the boat and sent me to buy wine and chocolate, which they easily sold at any stall on the waterfront, saying it was for dad or mom. I took them for a ride within the same bottle, and as soon as they reached the granite embankment, they called me out again: “Are you riding?” Ten dollars, I said, realizing that life was a success.

That summer turned out to be “the last summer of my childhood,” just as Dad promised, claiming that summer would be different after school. I came from St. Petersburg to Petrozavodsk less and less, and became more and more interested in the temptations of student life. The cowhide we restored was given to someone else, and no one else sailed on it.

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