History sparkling with copper

In summer of 2007 the steamboat «N.V. Gogol» performed a not quite usual trip along the Northern Dvina river: not for tourists, but for those, who are in charge of tourism organization in different regions of Russia. Non-commercial organization «Arkhangelsk regional tourism association «ARTA», tourist and excursion company «Pomor-Tur», «Zvyozdochka» shipyard with support of Arkhangelsk regional administration Committee of International relations and tourism development invited representatives of Moscow tourist companies and journalists for advertising-informational tour «Tourist potential of Arkhangelsk region». Metropolitan guests called what they have seen like «tourist Klondike». They liked everything: old streets of Arkhangelsk, museum of wooden architecture «Malye Korely», karst caves of Pinezhye, Northern pearl – Svyato-Troitsky Antoniyevo-Sijsky monastery, excursion to museum of history and labor glory of Severodvinsk enterprise «Zvyozdochka», and the major point – the only in Russia functioning steamboat «N.V. Gogol». Olga Larionova, correspondent of «Vecherniy Severodvinsk» newspaper, expressed her emotions concerning trip onboard the steamboat «N.V. Gogol» in reporting with such words: «Metropolitan people are overriding the noise of engine room with their exclaims: «That is the highest class machine! And it might have appeared in the scrap metal». Command «no hand hold» is heard in time – people are extending their hands to historical monument sparkling with copper. But in pilot house it is not forbidden to tap on the round side of engine telegraph, just to hoot. – Of course, you know the location of all shallow waters? – Tourist administration asks steamship colleagues. – We try not to know! » Special attention of guests was paid to the next point of excursion. It turned out, that on the main deck behind unremarkable door there was a huge paddlewheel of steamboat, flapping strongly with its blades. That view is charming, especially from inside the steamboat.

We can watch it infinitely. Participants of memorable tour were coming off the steamboat «N.V. Gogol» with regret, dreaming about a new trip along the vast expanses of the Northern Dvina River as well as with exclamations: – «Gogol» is cool! Tourism in the oldest Russia’s steamboat has a long future! We can add that in 2007 the tour along the Northern Dvina River was accepted as the best tourist route in Arkhangelsk region. And in 2010 the oldest in Russia operating wheel steamer «N.V. Gogol» became a laureate of prestigious state prize in tourism in the name of Yuriy Senkevich, having become a winner in nomination «Best regional museum». This is the only non-commercial prize in the country in tourism established by Federal Tourism Agency. While handing of prize to representatives of the ship’s owner, JSC «Shiprepairing center «Zvyozdochka», A.I. Yarochkin, the head of Federal Tourism Agency, mentioned uniqueness of the ship and said with confidence, that coming 100th anniversary of steamer «Gogol» would become one of the brightest events of 2011.

Since 2000 the steamer «N.V.Gogol» cruises along the route Arkhangelsk—Kotlas—Arkhangelsk, which was developed and organized by tourist company «Pomor-Tur» and Shiprepairing Center «Zvyozdochka». During the years of the tour it became very popular among the guests and natives of Arkhangelsk Oblast, leaving unforgettable impressions for all, who were lucky to make a tour alone on the most beautiful rivers in Russia – the Severnaya Dvina. In this chapter E.V. Antusheva says about her memories on traveling along the route Arkhangelsk—Kotlas—Arkhangelsk. Of course steamships are seen off not like trains. Especially if it is real steamship, which is let out a stream of water gas and gave treble honk a moment ago. At first, there is a usual vanity on station, surprised novice tourists hurry up on mooring, holding in one hand camera and in another big bag, regulars steadily walking on gangway, breathing familiar smell of caboose and saying hello to boatswain as they were old friends. Spectators band together around the steamship, feverishly discussing something and pointing on paddle-wheel which is closed with a cover with inscription «N.V. Gogol» on it. It is sunny and not hot yet. From river blows fresh breeze. Deck, hand-rails and everything around roars neighborly like a bumblebee in flower. Fresh and sparkling steamship looks like he just woke up and joining a new day, like there was no winter night near the mooring. Waves splashing around merrily as if hugging familiar boards.

They acquainted for a long time – river and steamship. From the deck, station looks like another planet. And handrail for which you held on for a minute seems so familiar and native. Its warm shagginess and tender drone like a handshake, like a start of friendship. Suddenly sounds rasp of a chain under the bottom and it seems that all ship shudders and strings up. After shout: «Unmoor! » and after heavy clank of a anchor chain first accords of «Farewell of Slavonian» sound for all station, river and it looks like for a whole usual, tired and recessive world. Slowly and solemnly slapping with one paddlewheel, steamship turns and gathering speed goes to the center of the river. And now nothing drones, but quietly vibrates, pleasantly and carefully, as though in heart rhythm. On shout of a ship blows fresh wind, sun shines and dark blue water runs apart. By the board, above the paddle-wheel – bubbling and water dust. Astern – lacy trace and receding ramp. It looks like steamship is full of impatience and hurries up gathering speed… And than emerges noble and high belly of a bridge, loud echo appears from voices during passing by heavy pillars. Conversations subside and for a moment come the silence as if there is some border. And than again appears the sun and spots of light on the water. And wind seems fresher. Closes a little world of steamship and a big world around of it opens up.

Plants, grey stores and cranes, which alike herds of giraffes, are staying behind. It is still light and sunny, patches of light on water became easier and softer, the sky turns pale, and from the river blows a breeze. Passengers look at each other, and it is visible how recently tired persons brighten. Also there are smiles, not such smiles you used to and don’t notice any more, absolutely others, almost children’s. Silent conversations and laughter join splash of water and ship’s rumble. Foggy morning. Everything around shrouded by a damp coolness. Shore front so green, that eyes are surprised. Clang of an anchor chain, footpath among a grass… Brin-Navolok. You can to collect and bring in a cabin the first fresh bouquets of field flowers. It is possible to wander on cool water and damp sand. In the settlement smells with a laundry soap, bread and with something imperceptible, far and very necessary. It is told that there is set of lakes – but they not visible yet. Only measured movement, flashing trees, road and the long story. Unexpected it disappears – as in a dream. People with astonishment look around. Wood remained further, and around – grasses, lake with light ripples, transparent air and absolutely close – domes and white-stone walls. «We have arrived to the Antonievo-Sijsky monastery». Surprised conversations and cheers all around, but words fly by. Unusual strong feeling pulls forward, to these walls and domes. Lake surrounds a monastery from three sides. Hardly audible splash of water merges with a rustle of grass. Every pocket of ancient used up steps of a monastic porch is smoothed to shine for centuries. They exist not only now, with us – their history begins in Time of troubles when Feodor Romanov, standing on this porch, begs not to go into convent … Four centuries has passed since his son Michael was established on the Moscow throne, and he became patriarch Philaret.

For many people Time of troubles has turned to monument for Minin and Pozharsky on the history schoolbook and here, in silence near these steps, words still sound, and clank of the weapon comes through them near walls of the old Kremlin… Behind thick white walls appear calmness and coolness. Old bricks vibrate from old voices too, if properly to listen. But in a temple all former feelings give way to another – huge, which holds apart a breast, a feeling from which you want to laugh and to cry simultaneously… This feeling is different for everyone, but at the same time it is common. It is reflected in eyes of all nearby people, expands and becomes brighter more and more. It is carried away upwards to a dome and simultaneously remains with all. Shine of lake, white walls and the sky already seem others, as if illuminated by this new feeling. It merges and intertwines with a peal and with a smell of fresh bread from frater and with a smell from grass and water. People look at each other unusually, warmly and joyfully. Taste of monastic bread and cottage cheese, an echo in vaulted cool frater, light in eyes of passengers all of it merges in one huge stream which curls round the bus which has gone to a way back, and especially around white and cheerful steamship expecting at green coast. And this colour stream and new feeling do not disappear they stay with all now. Water and sky around you again.

Paddle-wheels efficiently and habitually foam water and behind a stern remains lacy trace. On coast there are villages, old houses from strong logs, ancient churches, footpaths among a grass. It is audible bark of dogs, low of the cows. The steamship is moored near abrupt, almost steep coast – Verkhnaya Toyma. People crowd on the bank. Only their silhouettes are visible against the golden sky. It can be an old habit, but steamships meet here specifically. When there were no trains, no planes and cars, steamships went all the summer long upwards and downwards on the river, transporting passengers, flour, fabrics and books. It seems that old moorings are everything that remains about those times. «Gogol» foams water, coming to coast in all his beauty and people meet her as old friends. Verknaya Toyma all is cut up by ravines. Through them spanned suspension bridges which are shaking from each step. A ravine very wide and improbably deep. Far below, as if in gorge, the river flows. Patches of light on water are visible through flooring cracks. Old rural houses and the streets laid many centuries ago. Green courtyards from which sometimes came the solid barking, the cry of a rooster or a quiet neighborhood conversation. The sun falls slantwise on old wood and a warm road dust. In a museum old distaffs, doormats, sundresses, kokoshniks animated by many hands and many generations, they do not seem to be museum pieces. At night, the white cool fog goes down on the river. All world disappears in it. There is no horizon or an earth, no sky. As if steamship hangs in space, in white damp space. And here again the river ahead, again the sun and a cool wind on a nose. Again red buckets on a main deck sparkle brightly, and warm hand-rail softly vibrates under the hand. And again with a clang the steering chain crawls under the bottom, and the anchor falls – Krasnoborsk.

The sun stands low and lacy shadows lay down on silent small streets. Ancient houses, wooden roadways … It is possible to meet here the small shaggy doggie preserving its possession, a cat reclining with an importance on a low roof of a shed. Somewhere cackle hens, rings the chain from a well. The city lives the sedate settled life, the same as the river, boats at a mooring, and birches on ancient quay. If to go further from the city, it is possible to see a surprising thing. Actually it is round stone pool where mineral water flows down from a source. And if to approach to the edge … True it is laid out by a stone – both a bottom, and walls. And dark blue transparent thickness of water in it. Water cool and very salty … And gold ripples on a surface… Also here smells with needles, road dust and bread. Here lived artist А.А. Borisov, who drew dark blue snow, the cold seas and polar bears, ice nights and the polar lights. It is possible to stand near his pictures in a museum and to feel a cold wind – despite the sun and the greens, which you can see from windows. And it is possible to pass on ancient rooms with massive thin work furniture, to stand near opened ancient books, to read some lines, and then suddenly to get a notebook and to copy an old poem which amused children of this sedate city hundred years ago.

The museum sells small iron badges with enamel arms of Krasnoborsk. Above – a hand with power, below – red pines. Such badges let White churches, domes and high bell towers. Away from the beaten path this town has managed to keep all as hundreds years ago. The doors are not closed here; it is simply to them to put a stick, which means: «owners are not at home». Woodpiles stand in the street it much more conveniently than to pile them up in a court yard. Nobody litters in the city. Everybody knows each other – families lived in the neighborhood for centuries. Nobody ruined here churches – is it possible to blow something you built? And there were no strangers who could order you to do it. The city is far from the beaten path… Almost all here are fair-haired and light-eyed, they speak sedately and in each word rest on letter «o». There situated ancient factory of silver black and old factory. Nielloed salaries decorate centenary icons in local temples If you walk through the museum and look around, it is possible to appear in an old bench, where on the polished table lays the ancient arshin and rolls of fabrics, or in a merchant living room. Everything here is alive and breathing. Things look at you calmly and attentively, inviting to stop and talk. Here it is possible to see how two rivers are merging. How borns Northern Dvina, which your steamship has passed from the beginning up to the end. Yours … Coming back from excursion, passengers notice a familiar white silhouette and joyfully speak: out very long time ago and when you hold it in hand it seems that you go over a wooden roadway in a lacy shade of trees among warm old walls and red pines. And here already the riverheads. «Gogol» is moored again.

Kotlas – a city of trains and souvenir cats. «Cat Las» welcomes from everywhere with fish in a teeth or in a stripped vest. From Kotlas to Veliky Ustyug. In ancient times, when Dvina was deeper, steamshipskolesniki went there freely. Now «Gogol» will not pass so far. The bus goes on narrow soil road. Passengers exchange with words – someone anticipates northern populace, someone discusses advantages of cameras, someone thumbs through historical monographs and guidebooks. Veliky Ustyug – a merchant city. Anyway, it seems such way – narrow streets, sound stone houses – all breathes with strong, detailed olden time. «Even five minutes and we will be at home! ». And the city with white churches breathes the life and benevolently observes. The silent streets laid centuries ago, ancient houses and trees… It often smells like a summer storm – it is either passed or is coming. It is warm. Here the sun and old living walls. Here driven in carriages little white babies, who look at you calmly and attentively. A crossing on the ferry – and Solvychegodsk. It is same far from human ways like the Veliky Ustyug. But in it seems the echo of ancient splendor and luxury. They are embedded in the vignettes of semicircular windows, in wide streets and squares. It is quiet now, but in this silence sound clatter of hoofs, roar of crews and carts, shouts of workmen, and a jingle of bells. In winter on this square in a snow dust ride triples, and near elegant houses timid young ladies in long skirts and fur coats ran.

The old life still seething here together with the new. Is possible to go down in cold premises under the temple and to feel this especial silence and a damp stone cold. And then climb hundreds steps and suddenly to see the huge, blue-green open space filled in with the sun, the river, the city, streets and the faded red roofs, and then to feel a warm wind. Only here it is possible to see such churches. Animated by work and love of many people, it is inseparable from Solvychegodsk. All that was created here was created because it was needed and needed in that way. Needed then and now. Many centuries here traded salt. Stroganoffs trade salt and they changed the city and dissolved in it. According to the power and wealth this family was equal to the king’s family. They lived here, far from all capitals, easy and skillfully operating affairs, arranging construction of temples and bringing up children. Perhaps they had both the power and ambition, but it must have been so well mixed with Solvychegodsk’ deliberation that everything went on as usual – skillfully and safely. Also you can stop and talk with Kozma Prutkoff – but only if you know him really well and respect properly.

Here are many lovely trails, secular, trodden by many generations where it was convenient. It is possible to pass on them, attentively and validly, and to feel something important, and to allow it to remain with you in your soul. Passengers run to a steamship and someone drag with themselves the linen embroidered cloth, someone the painted box smelling of wood, someone drags a big-bellied antiquarian samovar. It is not clear for you where your house is, it can be here, among cozy white houses, greens and clear sights, or on the steamship which gives salutatory hooter and where hot soup waits for you. Or in this entire world, big and surprising, where always possible to find something right and honest, only if u can see and hear, if to leave some place in your soul for leaves, splashing water and bell ring behind the river. If you do not forget the smell of fresh bread and a woven rug and a smiling country girl with a puppy in her arms. If all it to keep, at least inside, all around will change. And if to share with someone the world will become more lightly. And even those who do not know you will live in it more warmly.