A taxi dropped us off on a hill top where the paved road abruptly ended. From there we could see the tiny white lighthouse down below.

After about a twenty minute hike, we arrived only to find the lighthouse empty. Off inthe distance we could see two old men in shabby little rubber boats fishing. One of them had to continually pump air into his boat to keep it afloat. We shouted and signaled for them to row over to us, hoping that they might know something about the lighthouse. With the wind blowing in gusts, they couldn't hear us and didn't seem interested enough to investigate any further. With nowhere else to go, we waited. In time, the wind and tide brought them towards us and we tried again. Lisa yelling that we wanted to speak with them, them yelling back to that they were busy fishing. This exchange went on for about 45 minutes until their curiosity must have gotten the better of them. They pulled in their lines and rowed our way.

This is how we met Victor and Nikolai.

We chatted for a while and they proudly showed off their catch. They told us that no one actually lived in the lighthouse, but pointed out a small green house across the shore where they said we could find the lighthouse caretaker and his family. We thanked them and waved good-bye as they shoved off in their just barely seaworthy vessels. Then we set off for the house across the shore.

In front of the house we found a man painting a shed. He introduced himself as Vasily Ilchenko and confirmed that he was indeed the lighthouse caretaker and had been so for twenty years. Within 15 minutes he had given us a tour of the radio control room and then proceeded to parade us into his home, boldly announcing the arrival of his two unexpected guests. His wife Valentina, who was preparing dinner, was less enthusiastic about the presence of two foreign journalists in her kitchen. She abruptly informed us that without some type of official invitation she wouldn't answer any of our questions and certainly wouldn't be photographed. Vasily tried to come to our defense, but Valentina would hear nothing of it.

In spite of her disapproving attitude towards us, in Russia a guest is a guest, and two more plates were quietly added to the table. While we dined on fried salmon, pickled mushrooms and stewed eggplant, Lisa tried to explain more about our project and that we just wanted to spend a day with their family. Valentina began to warm up after a few glasses of vodka and agreed that we could come back on Friday, but made no promise that she would be there.