Baltic Trip - Liepaja      11th - 13th June:

11th June
    I returned to the boat late to find Alan had already turned in, so it wasn't until later in the morning when I got an update of the previous days events.
    He reported that after a long lie in, and chats with other crews, the wind had got up from astern, and had succeeded in forcing the boat against the quay. Fearing damage from further collisions, he wisely tried to tighten the stern rope moored to a buoy. We had already got this as tight as we could by hand, so Alan had attempted to tighten it further by one of the stern winches, only to succeed in wrenching the winch out of the deck! He had to resort back to hand tightening the rope, and spent the next few hours bedding the winch back onto the deck.
    After breakfast and shower, I walked into town to get provisions while Alan topped up the water tank. This operation was only possible with the harbour master being present. This was a problem since we normally liked to let the water run for a couple of minutes to flush out any contamination in the hose pipe, but the harbour master's presence prevented that. Perhaps he hung around because he felt that folk would run off with his 100m long rubber hose pipe.
    I bought provisions in the market square, which was alive with colours and smells, and swelled to capacity with people. Similar to Riga, strawberries and cherries were in season; they were everywhere. What was noticeable was a lack of other fruit such as apples, bananas etc, and some vegetables such as carrots or mushrooms. The policy seemed to be only sell what was in season.
    When I returned, Alan had decided to move on, and had plotted a course to Liepaja further down the coast, despite the conflicting reports we were getting about wind speed and direction. We were sailing the Baltic in the unconventional clockwise direction due to the necessity of having to reach St Petersburg within the visa window of opportunity. The more popular anti-clockwise direction apparently made better use of the winds.
    We slid out of port in a thick sea fog and headed out along a channel into the open sea, with hardly a breath of wind.
    Being thirsty, I poured myself a glass of water. Yuck! It tasted foul; I could almost chew on the rubber taste. The Ventspils rubber pipe treatment was a nasty torture indeed. Alan tried a cup of tea later, and he too spat it out. The water tank was immediately emptied into the sea.
    The fog never abated and the wind speed and direction was opposite to that predicted. We motored, then tried sailing to no avail, and then motored with the sound of thunder in our ears.

12th June

Tirdzniecibas Kanals   -   Kiitaja on the Left

    The sea was decidably lumpy and I managed very little sleep in the early hours. By 4am we arrived at Liepaja and tied up in the Tirdzniecibas Kanals, (Trade Canal), and settled down to catch up on sleep. There was a rude awakening at 7am by the coastguard who wanted our crew list, and details of where we came from and where we intended to visit next. We were informed by an English sailor a few boats along the quay that this public interface would be the norm, and he advised letting the coastguards know before hand as we reached each port.

Jana Street

    Liepaja port was already established in the 14th century, and had operated as a modern sea-going port since the end of the 17th century when the canal was dug. It had been a cargo and shipping port since the end of the 19th century. At the turn end of the 19th century and into the 20th century, tens of thousands of people emigrated from Russia to America. Liepaja became the main departure point for that voyage, with a direct route established to New York in 1906. Approximately 40,000 people emigrated through the port each year. During Soviet times, the port did not operate as a trading and cargo port, the Russians turned it into a large naval port instead.

Liepaja University in Rose Square

Butchery in Rose Square

    After showers in luxurious en suite cubicles, Alan set about getting the most accurate wind updates he could, and then catch up on more sleep. I decided to take a walk around the city. Sightseeing walks had been made easy through the use of musical notes inlaid into the pavements. Why musical notes? Liepaja is supposed to be the music (especially rock) city of Latvia.

Latvian Musician's Walk of Fame

    I started by heading past Jana Street with its wooden storage buildings along a narrow romantic lane, one of the oldest streets in the city.
    A short distance further on lay the Holy trinity Cathedral, built 1742-58 for a German congregation. Both the interior and exterior of the cathedral were late Baroque with elements of Classicism. It boasted the biggest mechanical organ in the world, with 131 registers, 4 manuals and more than 7,000 pipes. This meant nothing to me but it certainly impressed Alan.
    Nearby was the heart of the city, Rose Square which featured 500 roses - obviously. The square led off to the Latvian Musician's Walk of Fame, featuring 35 bronze plaques commemorating musicians; I guess Liepaja's answer to the Los Angeles Walk of Fame.
    Carrying on with my Hansel and Gretel impression, and following the notes, I came across one of the oldest 17th century buildings in Liepaja, a wooden house with rope caulking and small paned windows, known as the House of Tsar Peter I. In 1697, Russian Tsar Peter I stayed in this building, which was a hotel at the time, allegedly because it was the only one with an inside toilet. He was traveling around Europe at the time incognito, as he often did.

Old Cobbled Backstreets

House of Tsar Peter I

    From there I strolled through a maze of backstreets, all cobbled, with old wooden buildings which were still inhabited. I was making for the oldest church in the city, though it had been rebuilt several times, St Anne's Church. This was first mentioned in historic records in 1508. Located on the edge of Kursu Square, it looked out onto the scene of beheadings in 1792.
    A stone throw away was St Joseph's Catholic Cathedral. I took time out to look inside. It was very ornate like a lot of Orthodox churches, slightly dim, but beautiful, with most walls and ceilings painted with pale pastel images. What struck me about the building was that similar to the Holy Trinity Cathedral, there was a lot of "greenery" inside; indeed pots containing small birch trees lined the aisle, and a large container with hanging flowers dangled from the ceiling. Of note was a side chapel which contained a model ship suspended in it. Ship captains used to hang models of their ships in churches before going to sea, so that God would protect them from storms. Again, when they returned safely, they served to give thanks for their return.

Tirgonu Street

    Leading off from St Josephs, was Tirgonu (Tradesmen) Street, the first pedestrianised thoroughfare in Liepaja, built by money raised at music festivals.. This brought me to Kurmajas prospekts, a street with impressive 19th and 20th century aristocratic houses. The street used to be the main avenue leading to the beach, with a tram available for the convenience of holiday makers.

Typical Kurmajas Prospekts Building

    I took the opportunity to visit the beach. A brisk wind was sweeping in from the west, throwing white horse waves onto the extensive sandy beach. Often, amber could be found washed up here.
    By now it was raining, so I made my way back to the boat through ramshackle backstreets belonging to a long lost era.
    Alan had managed to assemble some reports on wind forecasts, it had been a painful process, eventually relying on Vodaphone mobile connectivity. The nearby hotel was meant to offer good Wifi connectivity, but when he inquired at the desk, they said he could use it without any problems, and they even gave him a free glass of red wine to go with it. Alas, the Wifi connectivity was non-existent. However, the entertainment was good. A chap had turned up wearing nothing but a night gown, and proceeded to fall asleep in the lobby. The manager and three policemen had him surrounded, and on arousing him out of his drunken stupor, found that he could not remember who he was or how he came to be there.

Kurmajas Prospekts Sculptures

    We ventured out together since Alan wanted to see the largest mechanical organ in the world. Unfortunately the cathedral was now shut, so he would have to wait until another day.
    We wandered back to the canal and found a restaurant nearby. The food was good, but even better was a waitress who had a good command of English. It transpired that she was a music student specialising in the flute, and moreover she played for the Liepaja Symphony Orchestra. Alan was enthralled and went into raptures about the recorder and oboe he had played in the past, what music he enjoyed playing, and what did she play etc. Apparently she had been playing opera music the night before; not Alan's most favourite music.

Upmarket House Near the Beach

    We probed her on the Russian aspects of Latvian life. She had lots of Russian friends, particularly in the musical sphere, and then she made the telling comment, "We haven't got the luxury of criticising Russia". The restaurant had an unusual flamboyant decor. The woman informed us that it was owned by a Dane who played in a rock band, and had married a Latvian artist. His wife had designed the decor. We gathered that the hotel, that co-existed with the restaurant, recently hosted a Russian conference on dredging the canal. No doubt they were scheming on how to exploit the potential of cruise ships being brought to the city. She was a charming young woman, very bright, witty and diplomatic. We bade her farewell and walked the few yards to the boat for a chill out and early night.

13th June
    We were greeted by a bright, cheery morning and another English boat arriving. The crew had just experienced a bumpy trip up, and were on their way to Riga, from where they would fly home and return back in two weeks.

Flats in Former Russian Enclave

    Alan and I caught a bus to the district of Karosta, a few meandering kilometres north of the city centre. The bus was packed with folk, many of whom were Russian judging by some of the words being uttered. Part way along the journey, two female ticket inspectors boarded the bus and proceeded to squeeze along the length of the bus checking tickets and passes. All of a sudden there was a lot of commotion, and one workman in a fluorescent jacket was being awkwardly manhandled by the two women. No doubt he had not bought a ticket. As he tried to get off the bus or rather as he was evicted, one of the women tried to deprive him of his tools, which he clearly wasn't going to release, and eventually he half stumbled off the bus, with the two inspectors pursuing him out on to the pavement giving him what for. A few passengers, who had grasped that Alan and I were foreigners, gave hints of a smile and shrug of the shoulders when we made eye contact. Karosta was large and occupied one third of Liepaja. During 1890, a massive construction of fortifications and a military camp was begun, under the orders of Russian Tsar Alexander III. During the period of the first Latvian independence, the place became known as the Karn Osta (War Port). During the Soviet era, Karosta was a closed and covert zone, with no admission, even for the citizens of Liepaja. Today, the area is open, reached via an industrialised wasteland that once catered for the Soviet needs. Deep within Karosta stood rows of blocks of flats, which at one time were used to house Soviet military personnel. Karosta was a Soviet naval base with 26,000 military staff. It now stood in a dilapidated state, some of the flats even being derelict.

A Grim Shop in the Enclave

    I came across one bleak, concrete flight of stairs leading to a strong metal door, the entrance to a dimly lit interior. Peering inside the open door into the gloom revealed it to be a shop. The whole area was a bleak, run down, depressing "enclave".
    Our reason for visiting the area was not to admire the decay of Soviet military architecture, but to visit the St Nicholas Orthodox Maritime Cathedral. Just as Ely Cathedral stood high and proud of its surroundings in the English Fens, this magnificent building dominated the skyline in Karosta.

St Nicholas Orthodox Maritime Cathedral

    It had been designed and erected in the style of the 17th century Russian Orthodox churches with central and four side cupolas, symbolising Christ and four Apostles. Erection of the cathedral began in 1901. On the conclusion of World War II, the Soviet Navy base in Liepaja was made a secret territory and was closed to the public. A sports hall, cinema, recreation and entertainments room were established in the cathedral for the needs of the sailors and soldiers. The sphere of the central cupola had been bricked up to destroy its great acoustics and allow the navy personnel to hear their films.
    Today, we found the entrance to the cathedral strewn with grass, as was the interior floor (for what reason I'll never know). Some form of service was taking place inside with a congregation consisting mainly of old women, one man and two boys. Unfortunately, we were prevented from entering by an ancient granny, who conveyed in sign language that we were wearing shorts. I didn't realise my legs were so offensive to her. However, I could make out a brightly coloured painting on the curved ceiling above the alter, which must have been spectacular close up.
    We left this jeweled oasis buried within the decaying desert of the Soviet era, and headed back to Liepaja. Once back, I disappeared off to buy fresh food whilst Alan went off to inspect the great organ in the Holy Trinity Cathedral. Although he did manage to get a closer look than I did, he was disappointed that a lot of it was locked up so that he could not inspect the inner workings.
    After a quick lunch we cast off our lines and headed out to sea for a sail down to Klaipeda in Lithuania. The sail was excellent to start with, but as was often the case, the wind shifted around to an unfavourable direction and dropped considerably. As we approached the border between Latvia and Lithuania, we were called up by the Lithuanian border control, requesting all our details and where we were heading to. A short while later the Lithuanian coast guard went through the same ritual. Finally we resorted to motoring the last stage of the journey.