The official journey is over — but we’re still moving, still documenting, still listening as we bring the ship back home. The crew has changed: Gigi and Stephan have left; Markus and Christine remain on board, heading upstream with a changing cast of artist-friends. The logbook continues.
The night was restless. We had moored alongside a concrete quay at the edge of an industrial area, in a small shelter harbor. We avoided anchoring – after a recent storm bent our main anchor, and the smaller ones don’t hold well enough for safe overnight stops. So, for safety and convenience, we chose the wall.
In the middle of the night, however, we were woken abruptly by the security guards of the Serbian hydroelectric plant. The message was clear: “You go.” The tone softened slightly after a few tense minutes, but the outcome didn’t change – you go. Meaning: we had to leave. In the dark. In unfamiliar waters. And search for a new anchorage.
To make things worse, our navigation lights suddenly stopped working – like losing headlights and blinkers on a car. Red and green lights are essential at night for visibility and for other vessels to recognize your course.
Luckily, the harbor was moonlit, and no other ships were moving. After a short search, we found a decent spot. The wind was calm, so the anchor didn’t have much work to do – but we still set up anchor watch: taking turns every two hours, checking our position. Everything held.
The rest of the day was quiet and tired. We drifted toward Belgrade, heading for a fuel stop. The riverbanks passed like film stills – heavy eyes and slow thoughts turned the Danube into little more than scenery.
