Rest in the Primorsky region of Putyatin. Putyatin Island: gorgeous beaches, quaint rocks and lotus lake
Putyatin Island will forever remain in my heart. Here I became a man, here the most memorable period of my life passed. And if in previous stories I talked about romance as a dream, here I fully experienced it in real life. I am grateful to fate that by the will of fate I ended up on this island. I am grateful to the people who lived, and maybe still live, in a small fishing village located on the shore of a wide bay. I first set foot on its shores back in 1965. The month of November is on the calendar, I escaped from a Komsomol construction site in the city of Bolshekamensk and came here to get a job as a sailor on a fishing seiner. And I did it! Thank you, fate.
The island is located in Peter the Great Bay, approximately between Vladivostok and Nakhodka. The coastline in Primorye is replete with bays and bays. So Putyatin is located in the small Strelok Bay, the patrimony of military sailors. In bays with eloquent names: Robber, Abrek and others, they “reside” with their formidable ships and submarines. Putyatin, together with Askold Island, is located in the center of the bay and serves as a screen from American spies, hiding our naval power. The island got its name in memory of the famous Russian admiral E.V. Putyatin. It was this navigator who first mapped and explored the island, adjacent shores and sea spaces. Another surname is closely connected with the history of the island: Alexey Startsev, Vladivostok tycoon and millionaire. He turned the island into “paradise on earth,” planted gardens, raised sika deer, and produced unique porcelain, high-quality bricks and even silk here. But the revolution came and the commissars stopped all this “disgrace” so that the bourgeois would not drink the precious, proletarian blood of the hegemons. By the time I appeared, the memory of this man and his “art” had happily disappeared. True, some people still knew that the highest mountain on the island is called the same hill, Startsev. In Soviet times, the island had a fish processing plant and a fishing fleet with it. Nearby there was a state animal farm with deer, which the Bolsheviks apparently could not destroy, and at the other end the warriors built themselves a base where they stored some of their property. That’s all, if we don’t mention the lake on the island, in which lotuses grew, a great rarity for the Far Eastern flora.
The island is separated from the mainland by a strait through which a small, old ferry sails. Needless to say, I first stepped onto its deck with bated breath, realizing that I was entering a new period of my life, that my Odessa dream of the sea was partially coming true. And here, on the ferry, I began to make new discoveries for myself. In a small wardroom, open to passengers, the crew sat at the table and had lunch. To my surprise, they ate the flounder soup with gusto. Now that almost fifty years have passed, not everyone will understand the reasons for my surprise. To do this, you need to know the everyday little things of our life in those years. I was a resident of the Volga region and in our Tatastan, sea fish was then sold in a very limited assortment and people preferred to eat river fish. Flounder, by the way, was sold, but it was called contemptuously: “one-eyed” and the emphasis was placed on the last syllable - flounderA-A. The entire rich variety of sea fish that Soviet people consumed at that time was reduced to sprat, sprat and herring. People for the most part knew nothing about seafood and, of course, about seafood delicacies, although some of them were sold in stores. I still remember the slogan of Soviet trade in the fifties: “It’s time to try how tasty and tender crabs are.” It took years for people living on the banks of the Volga to pay attention to the products of the seas. I believe that the fact that our main river was blocked by a cascade of hydroelectric power stations played an important role in this process. Since then, sturgeon and beluga have ceased to be caught in the Kazan region. True, one individual, or rather a stuffed animal, is now on display in a historical museum, but the living ones have disappeared. By 1965, this slogan, of course, disappeared along with the delicacies. But the flounder continued to remain on the shelves, but in my mind it was a kind of fake fish. Hence my surprise, how the sea is overboard, but they are eating some kind of flounder.
Another circumstance that I immediately noticed concerned the nature of the relationship between the crew and passengers. There was an almost homely atmosphere on the ferry; there were a few passengers and crew members, everyone knew each other and behaved like home. The idea of the sea and the sailors of passenger ships that I formed during my life in Yalta did not coincide at all with what I saw here. In Yalta, the sea was part of the resort ambiance, just a large pool for swimming, a sea for admiring and lightly tickling the nervous system during a storm. I remember well the oily eyes of sailors on pleasure boats cruising along the southern coast of Crimea. Giving their hand to the next passenger to help her step onto the slightly swaying deck, they looked at her like a well-fed cat at sour cream. The local sailors, the ferry sailors, were just your friends, transporting passengers from the mainland to the island was their usual job. For these guys, the sea smelled not of cocotte perfume, but of labor sweat. Here the sea is the source of life, the sea is the toiler, hard worker and breadwinner. And the fresh autumn wind only emphasized this circumstance, as if saying: here your friend is not a resort or relaxation, but real man’s work.
Half an hour and our “liner” moored to one of the piers on Putyatin Island. Directly in front of us are the workshops of the fish processing plant, on the left is the passage to the village. I go to the fish processing plant office and present my documents to the personnel department. And literally in a few minutes, allow me to introduce myself: Yuri Shmelev - a sailor of the fishing seiner "Argoda". But the seiner is at sea and will only be at the pier in the evening, but for now, young man, go get settled in a hostel, it’s nearby. It turns out that the order here is this: you work and live on the ship, but in the hostel you are assigned a place, and that’s where you are registered. Later I realized that this is a very reasonable rule. The village itself was located on the shore of a wide bay, facing the mainland, so to speak. The entire village consisted mainly of private buildings. It was surrounded by hills, and the houses went along the lowlands between them deep into the island. Here, near the piers of the fish factory, next to the office there was, as it were, a center. A post office, a savings bank, a store and a two-story barracks, a small square, at the far end of which there was a community center in a public garden, made up the central part of the village. A hundred meters behind him, on a hill in a two-story building, there was a dormitory. Also not far from the club, closer to private houses, there was a dining room and a buffet attached to it. That's the whole village. There was also an animal farm on the island, located not far from ours, a fishing farm, right behind the highest hill. Even further away on the other side of the island in Shirokaya Bay there was a Morflot base. But I found out all this later, but in the meantime I came to the hostel, where they quickly assigned me my room and bed. I walked around the village until evening and, when it began to get dark, I met my seiner at the pier. It didn’t look like an ocean cruise, a multi-deck giant that would take your breath away, no, it was, to put it mildly, a slightly shabby, gray motor ship, more like a boat. But he walked to the mooring very confidently and even beautifully; it was clear that the sea was his element, he looked so natural and simple on the water surface. I thought he was handsome. When approaching the pier, two people appeared on the deck, without fussing, deftly threw ropes onto the metal mooring bollards, the seiner, purring busily, stood at the pier. More people appeared on the deck, opened the hold lid, the deck boom lowered a large metal tub down and a minute later a voice was heard from there: Vira! The unloading of the caught fish began. The fish were sent directly to the workshop for processing. After waiting for the end of unloading, I stepped onto the deck of the seiner, said hello and asked: “Where can I find the captain? “The man who took me to the captain turned out to be the boatswain, the most important commander of the sailors. The captain looked at the documents and put me at his disposal, who brought the boatswain to him. He gave me a fisherman's robe, rubber boots, white cotton gloves, bed linen and took me to the sailor's quarters, where he also showed me my bed. It was a cozy couch, similar to the one you find in a train compartment. Having met the crew, I went with everyone to the cabin for dinner. For dinner they “served” pasta with naval stew, fried fish and compote. I ate it with pleasure, very tasty. After dinner, some went home to the village; single and homeless people, like me, remained on the ship. Watchmen were assigned for the night: a sailor and a mechanic, as well as a navigator, the rest went to bed. In the morning I woke up already at sea, it turns out the ship leaves early, it is controlled by the watch crew and the captain. It's a two to three hour walk to the fishing area, that is, we start fishing around seven in the morning. The boatswain explained the duties I had to perform at different stages of the fishery. I was placed on the so-called back board, which is located at the stern. The board is a purely conventional word; in fact, it is a whole glider made of metal, weighing seven hundred kilograms. It is suspended from steel bridles, much like a kite. Only instead of a tail, one trawl wing is attached to the back. A second board is lowered from the bow of the seiner. When gliding in the water, they open the trawl to its entire width, the opening height is determined: up - by floats (buoys), down - by sinkers. That's all. A seiner armed with such a trawl plows the seabed like a tractor, raking up everything living and non-living in its path. Trawling depth is up to two hundred meters, travel time with a trawl is up to two hours, depending on the mass of the school of fish. There is an echo sounder in the wheelhouse and, based on its readings, the captain determines the trawling time.
Finally we arrived at the fishing area, now we will cast the trawl. As the boatswain taught me, I stood at my workplace. Despite the excitement, I still managed to fulfill my duties correctly and the trawl went into the depths of the sea. Having taken off our robe, we went to have breakfast. We had breakfast in the company cabin. No more than eight people could fit at the table, that is, our entire deck crew, including the boatswain and the trawl master. The rest of the team had breakfast earlier. For breakfast there was porridge, cold fried fish, coffee with milk and butter, everything was very tasty and filling. Later, I learned that this is a traditional food system; the state allocated 91 kopecks per person per day for this purpose. In the merchant fleet, by the way, the allowance was a little more than one ruble for these purposes. They gave us less because we ate state fish, which we caught ourselves. After breakfast, all the sailors began to go about their business, some on the instructions of the boatswain - with the ship's economy, others, under the guidance of the trawl master - with fishing gear. The seiner's crew consisted of 16 people. Six sailors are the deck crew, the main physical burden of the ship. The boatswain and trawl master are their immediate superiors. The Estonian Habergras worked for us as a haulage master, a wonderful person, by the way, and an excellent specialist in his field. How he got to these parts from cozy Estonia, I don’t know; there were a lot of incomprehensible things in our mighty country. The cook and radio operator stood apart in the seiner's crew. By the way, in our navy we all called radio operators “Marconians,” and not priests or priests. They, these two, were the “white bone” of the team, even to pierce during a winter storm, they only went out after the captain’s personal order. The engine team consisted of two mechanics led by a senior mechanic (grandfather). Two navigators with a captain completed the pyramid of our team. I spent almost two years fishing and am deeply grateful to fate that I had the opportunity to go through this school of life.
Let's return to the fishing process. About two hours passed after our trawl was spotted, and it was time to rise. Everyone took their places, the seiner stopped moving, and the main winch, controlled by the boatswain, started working. We began to wait for the trawl to appear on the surface. Spacer boards appeared from the water, swinging on cables as they approached their places. Having caught my board by the bridle, I secured it as it should be and went to the platform in the center of the deck space to help other sailors. The trawl is lifted onto the deck over the side using a cargo boom in interceptions of about three meters each. To do this, the most experienced sailor and an assistant press the net against the bulwark and grab the neck of the trawl with a noose. Then they attach this noose to the hook of the arrow. After several such interceptions, the tail end of the trawl appeared, containing fish. The seiner's cargo boom had a lifting capacity of up to five tons, so we lifted the entire catch on board in one go. I was torn by curiosity about what we caught in the sea. The fish fluttered on the deck, the eyes simply ran wild from its diversity. But I had to work further, so only by making a new note, I was able to calmly examine what I had caught. The fish lying on the deck were of various sizes and species. I saw a lot of things for the first time and didn’t even know what it was. In a large pile of fish, various crabs, some mollusks, shells and several octopuses were moving. All this stuff had to be sorted, it turns out. The fact is that, as they explained to me, we catch the so-called partial fish, from which the cheapest canned food is made: meatballs and cutlets in tomato sauce. In this case, any fish was used, but not seafood, they had to be thrown into the sea. Since our catch was small, we managed to sort it out quite quickly and went to rest.
The guys immediately taught me how to cook crabs. It's very simple, you grab the claws with both hands, step on its body with your foot, pull the claws up, tear them out and put them in a bucket of sea water. After asking the cook for permission, you put it on the stove and in half an hour it’s ready. The crab is so huge that one person cannot handle it, two or three people are just right. The attitude towards the crab delicacy in the team was indifferent, whoever wanted it ate it, no one paid attention to it. Over time, I got used to eating a wide variety of seafood, but the team never had any special attitude towards exotic things of this kind. You like it, and eat to your health. But there were also common preferences, for example: when large cod was caught in the trawl. Our cook ripped open the bellies of several fish and the whole group ate fresh, fried cod liver. True, when this happened the first time, I was immediately warned not to get carried away and not to eat a lot. Cod liver contains a lot of fat and vitamins; too much can affect your health and may disrupt the vitamin balance in the body. Over time, I got used to it and ate without fear. I also got used to the fact that there is fish on the table every day. They didn’t do culinary delights, didn’t know how, and didn’t even know what they were. But fried or boiled fish is always fresh and very tasty. They also loved the fish cakes. But they were not done often, but only if the catch included cod and greenling perch at the same time. Minced meat was made in half from both types of fish. It seems that nothing tastes better than these cutlets. There were other passions, primarily related to the range of catches. But all this was ahead, now, for me, the most important thing was not to lose face. I discarded the very thought that I would not be able to do everything on the seiner as required. I was delighted that I was on a fishing boat among such wonderful people, that I was at sea and had the chance to become a real sailor.
Since our catches this time were small, and there was a slight frost outside, the caught fish did not spoil, we did not come to our base for three days, we fished around the clock. By the evening of the third day, we moored safely at our home pier. Like a real sailor, I jumped over the side onto the pier to take the mooring line and immediately got into an incident, which consisted of the following: during our fishing, I had become unaccustomed to the terra firma. And now, having stepped onto the pier, I felt with horror that it was swaying. Instinctively he squatted down and leaned his hands on the flooring. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything more stupid in my life. Quickly realizing that these were the consequences of sea motion, he got up from all fours and tried to do what was required. Thanks to the boatswain, he did not show that I had made such a mistake. Afterwards he just said: “You, Yura, don’t be upset, this is nothing, worse things can happen to others, but you will turn out to be a sailor.” All my life I have been lucky to have good people! Unfortunately, I only remember his name, Nikolai. His support and kind participation in my development as a sailor is difficult to overestimate. Thanks to him.
Continuation of the topic.
Putyatin is in my heart.
I left Putyatin in 1967, after the pollock season. I said goodbye to my seiner and friends, looked at the island for the last time and hit the road. 45 years have passed since then, it’s 2012, and here I am again on the shore of the strait, in the village of Temp, waiting for the ferry to the island. The old pier is gone, its remains stick out from the water - piles. I can’t say that my heart is beating wildly in my chest. There is curiosity and I look for familiar features of the landscape. I can't remember anything except the pier. The Tempe coast is inhospitable and empty, the weather is cloudy. True, fifty meters away I see an unprepossessing building with the inscription “Cafe”.
I went in, found out that the ferry was running, and had a snack at the same time. Two pretty girls offered some kind of dish with meat for little money. It turned out to be quite tasty. He went ashore again, and passengers had already appeared. One woman asked me about the purpose of my trip to the island. I told you. She shook her head and called a person she knew on the island, saying that a tourist was coming and needed an overnight stay. It turns out that there is a hostel on the island. This easily solved the problem of housing on the island. Half an hour later our ferry touched the shore. Three cars, about a dozen passengers, that’s the whole expedition to the island. These are local residents returning home from the mainland, where they traveled on business. There are no tourists yet, except for me. The lotuses on the island will bloom only in ten days, and then they will fall in a crowd. They will distort and dirty everything, and then, dreamily rolling their eyes, they will talk about the beauties of the island and lotuses. But I'll already be gone by then.
Half an hour's walk and we are already bumping into the shore of the island. And immediately the first disappointment. Previously, the ferry moored at one of the factory berths. Now he is “moored”, that is, he pokes his muzzle into the shore far from the village, where there used to be a state animal farm. It was a state animal farm, but apparently it floated away. A young man meets me on the shore; he was sent for me by the owner of the hostel, his father.
What did I expect and what did I hope for when I was planning to come here? I found out on the Internet that the island is eking out a miserable existence. Of course, I read about lotuses. I had never seen them before. During their flowering period, we caught saury on Shikotan. But I didn’t care much for flowers, even such unique ones in Primorye as the lotus. I was interested in the life of the village and the people. I waited and hoped that there was at least some kind of life here. After all, the island remembers not only the Soviet era, when life was seething here, but also the time and pre-revolutionary time of Startsev, when there was paradise on earth. All in vain. I saw not a blooming land, but a living corpse. People living here simply exist, dreaming of someday breaking out into the normal world. Despite all my readiness to see the devastation, I was unable to suppress the pain in my heart.
For seventy years we have been building communism throughout the country. They spared no effort, studied, worked, and everything went to pieces, leaving nothing but a completely broken country. And people... The fate of the residents remaining here does not bother anyone. It’s bitter to see the truth when you seemed to know that it was bad there, but in your heart you didn’t want to believe it, hoping for something.
I walk along the familiar path from the central square, where the palace of culture still stands and my current hostel is located in a former store, towards the hostel. Here I had a bed in one of the rooms. Our youth once seethed and seethed there after returning from a months-long journey in distant seas. There we loved and hated, there we were friends and quarreled, there was the epicenter of a typhoon called: youth, romance. What now? Now it's just a graveyard. In these ruins are buried the voices of beautiful young maidens, our friends, the hugs and kisses of lovers, stormy and noisy parties of young sailors and old sea wolves. The memory of us still lives here, barely audible to a sensitive ear. But the wind of the next cyclone inexorably blows these barely audible sounds through the empty eye sockets of former windows, doors and corridors. And very soon they will freeze, only the voice of the wind will be heard, and the noise from the falling plaster and stones. That's it, our youth has finally sunk into oblivion.
Will the beautiful island have a new life? Will he remember the past heavenly times of the Startsev era, will he remember our such a fun time, or will he come up with and create his own, unforgettable? Don't know. There is no answer, but I do not agree with the verdict given to the island. He has a future. The island will be reborn so that the current timelessness, our inhumane government and the residents who are losing hope do not do to it. I believe in the rebirth of my island. Love and youth, dignity and pride for one’s Motherland will live here again.
About 60 experts and history buffs of the Primorsky Territory gathered at the end of last week for a local history gathering dedicated to the 125th anniversary of the founding of the Rodnoye estate on Putyatin Island by Alexei Startsev, RIA VladNews reports with reference to the Vladivostok newspaper.
International tourism is developing in Primorye. Vladivostok felt this. Snow-white liners call at our port, foreign guests walk around the regional capital and become familiar with Russian art in theaters. Probably, the residents of Putyatin Island have heard about this. But they didn't see it. The beauty here attracts only savages in tents, and only in the summer. But in vain, local historians assure. The island is not only beautiful in its nature, but also keeps many secrets. On the other hand, they admit, who can you invite to a place where you can only dream about modern infrastructure?
Less people - more oxygen?
Between Putyatina Island and the Danube village on the mainland there are 1.5 kilometers of water in the Peter the Great Bay and a 20-minute ferry ride. At first glance, the distance is small, as they say, just a stone's throw away. Meanwhile, even with the current development of technology, getting to Putyatin is problematic. Firstly, a small ferry to the island runs twice a day. And not everyone can load it, especially during the holiday season and if there is a vehicle: a sea carrier takes no more than four cars on board. Secondly, according to local residents, the ferry does not always run on schedule. It is not uncommon for the last flights to the mainland to be canceled for no reason. Even when there are people who want to go to the mainland.
On the other hand, isolation from civilization has allowed the island to be preserved almost in its original form - with amazing landscapes, clean bays with a rich underwater world, clear streams and two natural lakes where the Komarov lotus grows, listed in the Red Book of Russia, forests rich in mushrooms and medicinal plants. plants.
Happiness is in the past
It was precisely in this pristine state that the illegitimate son of the Decembrist Nikolai Bestuzhev, merchant of the 1st guild Alexey Startsev, one of the first industrialists of the Far East, saw it in the summer of 1891. The name of this man is associated with a bright part of the history of the development of Putyatin.
By the standards of human life, Alexey Startsev lived on the island for quite a short time, nine years. An educated, gifted and enterprising man, he bought part of the island’s land and leased the rest for 99 years, where he founded his own estate “Rodnoye” and where he moved his family from the mainland to start a new life here.
When Alexei Startsev was there, a brick factory was built on the island, equipped with the most modern equipment at that time. Many buildings in Vladivostok were erected from his bricks, marked with a company mark, some of them still adorn the streets of our city. For example, houses No. 37 and 69 on Svetlanskaya.
Next to the brick factory there was a porcelain factory that produced wonderful thin-walled porcelain, not inferior in quality to Chinese. There was also a workshop for making silk from silkworm larvae, also brought to the island by its owner. Alexey Dmitrievich bred pedigree horses, Kholmogory cows, pigs, ducks, geese, deer and even snakes on a special snake farm. Thanks to his efforts, excellent roads appeared on the island.
But in 1900, Startsev died suddenly of a heart attack. Only in his 62nd year. His widow and heirs were unable to maintain the huge farm at the proper level, and it gradually fell into decay. After the October Revolution of 1917, Startsev's enterprises and all his property were nationalized. The Putyatinsky animal farm was organized on the island, which gave life to the village. And the local population did not feel cut off from the mainland.
What we have, we don’t store
...Now the once flourishing island presents a sad sight. Startsev's house on the shore of Nazimov Bay was destroyed, the Rodnoye estate was almost razed to the ground, only a well with clean water remained. The gardens have been cut down, the roads have become impassable, and in rainy weather you can’t drive or walk on them. The state animal farm has long been ordered to live a long time. Local residents call Putyatin the island of pensioners. A bitter but accurate joke: young people irrevocably leave for the mainland because there is nowhere to work here. No more than 500 people live on the island. There is a House of Culture, a school, a dispensary, a store. And there are many abandoned houses with overgrown gardens. It was as if a plague had swept through the island. It’s not difficult to imagine Alexei Startsev’s emotions if he saw all this today...
In the history of Primorye, this man stands on a par with such famous personalities as Yankovsky, Shevelev, Briner, Semenov, who gave impetus to the development of our region.
Of course, the Startsevs are revered by the islanders: the local club has organized a permanent exhibition, on the stands of which are copies of historical documents and photographs. In the fall of 1989, thanks to the efforts of the staff of the museum named after V.K. Arsenyev and local historian Boris Dyachenko (now deceased), a monument by sculptor Eduard Barsegov was erected at the burial site of Startsev. Funds for its construction were allocated by the Putyatinsky animal farm. The cape and the highest hill on Putyatin Island are named after Alexei Startsev. But how many people know about this even in our Primorye, not to mention other countries?
The earth guards secrets
The main part of the local history gathering - reports and speeches by guests - took place in the local club, built back in 1960. And miraculously preserved. The organizer of the event is the A.D. Central Library. Startseva of the city of Fokino. About 60 people came to the rally. Among them are Startsev’s descendants - great-grandson Alexey Aleksandrovich Startsev and great-granddaughter Olga Aleksandrovna Sheresheva, as well as members of the Primorsky branch of the Russian Geographical Society, employees of the museum. A.K. Arsenyev, local history guides and, of course, schoolchildren.
According to Anastasia Falaleeva, a methodologist at the Startsev Library, three years ago a local history seminar dedicated to Alexei Startsev was already held here. But it was small in number and small-town. This year, librarians organized a gathering of local historians, inviting guests from the regional center. Despite financial difficulties.
– Fortunately, the world is not without good people. The director of the company that owns the ferry gave the order to transport the rally participants free of charge to the island and back. He liked the idea of the rally. Local resident Viktor Makhankov agreed to be a guide to Mount Startsev, - the librarian is happy about the little thing.
After the completion of the theoretical part of the meeting and a modest lunch, the participants of the action laid flowers at the grave of Alexei Startsev and climbed the hill named after him. A geodetic sign is installed at its top. From a height of 353 meters above sea level there is a magnificent view of the surrounding area and the waters of Peter the Great Bay, fortunately the sky was clear that day. If only tourists were brought here in an organized manner, you see, the village would come to life.
As Anastasia Falaleeva assures, the land on the island keeps many secrets. Because no one seriously excavated here. For example, no one still knows where entrepreneur Startsev got clay to produce branded bricks. There is also a legend about a treasure that was allegedly buried by the descendants of the former owner of Rodny when they fled from the Bolsheviks. They say that the heirs of Alexei Startsev had money from the sale of the estate. Big money.
As you know, the fate of the direct heirs of the owner of the island, Putyatin, is tragic. After the death of his father, the eldest son Nikolai left for Serbia. Daughters Evdokia and Elizaveta moved to Central Russia. Sons Alexander, Dmitry and Nikolai organized the trading house “Heirs of A.D. Startsev”. After 1917, the Startsevs' enterprises were nationalized, and the brothers Alexander and Dmitry were deprived of their civil rights and expelled from Vladivostok. In 1937 they were arrested and shot. It is unknown where they are buried. It is also unknown where the grave of Alexei Dmitrievich Startsev’s wife, the Trans-Baikal Cossack Elizaveta Sidneva, is.
A small island near a great land
At one time, the famous Russian actor and bard Yuri Vizbor dedicated one of his poems, now forgotten, to this small plot of coastal land, which is called “Putyatin Island.” There are these prophetic lines:
We will all be back, of course -
The trains will roll into the sunset,
To the girls we swear
Never leave.
But why on earth is this
Do we dream about all the ships?
The small island of Putyatin,
Near the great land.
We are proud of our history. But it seems that its safety was entrusted to enthusiasts. Therefore, it is unknown whether a local history gathering will be organized on Putyatin Island next year. Everything is decided by money, which the Fokin library does not have. The city administration and local businessmen are staying away from this event. Regional departments of culture, tourism and commercial travel agencies are even further away. Nevertheless, methodologist Anastasia Falaleeva, her colleagues and everyone who is interested in the history of Putyatin Island, inseparable from the history of Primorye, hope that the situation will change for the better.
By the way, this year in Fokino, on the territory of the Pesochnitsa recreation center, the traditional festival of bard songs “Tinkan”, to which songwriters from all over Russia flocked, was not held. And all for the same reason - no money. But “Tincan” is also a kind of tourist highlight...
Today again about Far Eastern tourism and recreation. I’ll tell you about Putyatin Island in the Primorsky Territory of Russia.
I first came to this island three years ago. I really liked it here, and now it seems to me that this is one of the best places in Primorye.
Continuing with photographs and a few words about the island.
On Yandex.Maps the island looks like this, but in principle, its location is clear here. You can get to the island by ferry from the Danube village. You can do it on your own or rented boat. 
The island is simply a paradise for relaxation. Beautiful hills. 
Parents and children gather in one of the bays every year. They have such a club in Primorye, where they are accustomed to water from birth. 
There is a very beautiful sea here. 
Picturesque rocks. 
Sandy beaches. 
Beautiful landscapes. 
The place is, of course, very interesting. 
Approaching one of the capes. 
The history of the island is also interesting, here is an excerpt from Wikipedia:
In 1891, the merchant A. D. Startsev, the son of the Decembrist N. A. Bestuzhev, settled on the island. He acquired 1000 acres of land on the island; the rest is on long-term lease.
He founded an estate on the island with exemplary farming: he planted tobacco and mulberry plantations, two orchards, a vineyard, a farm, and a stud farm. In 1893-1896, he built brick and porcelain factories, plumbing and mechanical workshops, and an iron foundry on the island.
In reports from the Amur-Primorsky Agricultural and Industrial Exhibition of 1899, the stud farm on the island of Startsev was especially highlighted. In 1893, 5 stallions and 10 mares of the purebred Oryol breed were delivered there, then 34 horses were delivered from Mongolia (out of 80, 46 died en route); and five years later there were already more than 200 horses of the new breed on the island. Newspaper reports also wrote about a brick factory, cement production, and a mechanical and carpentry workshop where beautiful furniture was made. “The products of his porcelain factory, the only one in the region, are outstanding - large vases, thin tea sets, ordinary table china... Such work as a life-size bust of Pushkin is exemplary... for which he rightly received a large silver medal.”
In 1929, a large animal farm was established in the village of Putyatin, and later a fish processing plant.
Now there are no industries on the island, but the unique nature has been preserved. 
Remains of the lighthouse. 
There are very beautiful sunsets and sunrises here. There will be separate notes on this matter. 
Fragments of the nature of the island. 
I have traveled almost the entire island. 
Walked through the forests. 
Putyatin Island is named after the admiral and statesman of Russia E.V. Putyatin, who led the first expedition from Kronstadt to Japan in October 1852 to establish diplomatic and trade relations between Russia and Japan.
The area of Putyatin Island is 2790 hectares and its length is 14 km. and a maximum width of 5 km. The coastline is indented by 13 bays, bays and lagoons. The banks are steep and made of reddish granite with layers of quartz.
On Putyatina Island there is a large freshwater lake “Gusinoye”, which is famous for several lotus plantations. The lotus is one of the sacred symbols of the East; it amazes the imagination with its beauty.
Not far from Putyatin Island towards Askold there are Unkovsky stones in the sea, which are the only nesting site of the slaty-backed gull in the area. Also located here are: the Iretsky rock, an underwater grotto at Cape Shulepnikov, a cave, the Rooster and Elephant rocks.
On the shore of Nazimov Bay on Putyatin Island there is the only village here, with the same name, founded by the former owner of the island Alexei Dmitrievich Startsev more than two centuries ago. Through his efforts, brick and porcelain factories were created on the island in seven years. Luxurious orchards have been established and trade relations have been established.
In memory of the man who did a lot for Putyatin Island, a monument was erected there in the fall of 1989. It was installed with funds from the Putyatinsky animal farm, through the efforts of the staff of the museum named after V. Arsenyev and the famous local historian Boris Dyachenko. A monument-bust to Alexei Dmitrievich Startsev, authors: artist O. Kulesh and sculptor Z. Pipekin, was installed near the village on a hill.
Putyatin Island located in the northern part of Peter the Great Bay, in Strelok Bay. The minimum distance between the island (Cape Startsev) and the mainland (Cape Strelok) is only about 1.5 km.
The island is mountainous, the highest point is Mount Startseva, located in its northern part, has a height of 353 m. The banks are elevated and in many places cut by valleys and ravines. The eastern coast of the island is made of granite with a layer of quartz. The southeastern coast is steep and consists of reddish granite, it is overgrown with grass and bushes. The northern part of the island is covered with forest and bushes; wide clearings stand out sharply in the forest, noticeable from great distances. The shores are bordered along almost the entire length by reefs protruding into the bay. The total area of the island is 2790 hectares or 27.9 km².
Putyatin Island- one of the most picturesque islands of the Peter the Great Gulf, famous for the estate “Rodnoye” of Alexei Startsev, grandson of the Decembrist Nikolai Bestuzhev. This talented entrepreneur grew wonderful orchards on the island, built a porcelain factory, the products of which were known throughout the world, established tobacco and mulberry plantations, and created a stud farm. On Putyatin Island there are natural monuments, military-historical sites, the island is also famous for the lotus lake, amazing rocks, an abundance of mushrooms and medicinal plants. Lake Gusinoe is a natural lake where the Komarov lotus, listed in the Red Book of Russia, grows in early August. The most interesting thing is that lotuses bloom for only one month - in August. Putyatin Island is attractive to tourists with its extraordinary landscapes, clear sea, and amazing underwater world. The tranquility that this island conceals near its shores calls for solitude on a yacht. The island has Elephant, Rooster, and Turtle bays. They got their names thanks to the bizarre rocks that are shaped like these animals. Mramornaya Bay is an amazingly beautiful place. The bay got its name because its entire shore is covered with multi-colored stones. Here you can get a chocolate tan and swim in the warmest water on the entire Primorsky coast.
The island is attractive to tourists with its extraordinary landscapes, clear sea, amazing rocks, and an abundance of mushrooms and medicinal plants.
As a result of natural processes, two unusual capes appeared on the island - the Rooster and the Elephant drinking water. Putyatin consists entirely of suitable bays for recreation (Leshiy, Green Stones). Tourists can travel along the island's 13 bays and lagoons.
On Putyatin there is one of three lakes in Primorye, in which lotuses bloom from early August to mid-September.
To the north of the village is the highest point of Putyatin - Mount Startseva (355 meters), from here there is a beautiful view of Askold Island and the city of Vladivostok.
Putyatin Island is one of the unique places on the map of Primorye.
How to get there: l for by private car to the village of Danube, then by ferry to the island, or by bus Vladivostok - Nakhodka to the city of Fokino, then by bus to the village of Danube. The ferry to the island runs several times a day, for example at 14:00. Transporting a car, according to data at the beginning of summer, costs 1,000 rubles round trip, traveling for a person costs 50 rubles.
From the history of Putyatin Island
The name of this man will forever go down in the history of Primorye. Commerce advisor, merchant of the 1st guild Alexei Startsev, one of the richest and most educated people of old Vladivostok, sinologist, major philanthropist, member of the Society for the Study of the Amur Region, became famous for his hard work for the prosperity of the Russian land on the edge of the Pacific Ocean.
Alexey Dmitrievich Startsev was the illegitimate son of the Decembrist Nikolai Bestuzhev, who was exiled to Siberia for speaking out against the autocracy in December 1825 on Senate Square in St. Petersburg and who, while in exile, entered into an unofficial marriage with a Buryat girl, Sabilla. After Bestuzhev’s death, the boy was adopted by the merchant Startsev, a friend of the Bestuzhev family, as a result of which he inherited this surname. According to legend, in memory of his famous parent, Alexey Startsev wore a ring forged from his father’s shackles in a gold frame. It was a kind of talisman-amulet for Startsev.
By the way, in his youth, the son of the Decembrist was also keen on revolutionary ideas. Collaborated with Herzen's "Bell" and "Polar Star". Participated in the illegal delivery of seditious literature to Russia from abroad. But over the years I realized that only evolutionary transformations and hard work can make a person’s life worthy.
Alexey Startsev arrived on the shores of the Golden Horn as a mature man. He was persuaded to move “to the land of unlimited possibilities” by an old friend - merchant of the 1st guild Mikhail Shevelev, with whom he was doing business in Tianjin (China). By this time, Shevelev, having firmly established himself in Vladivostok, would create the first Russian shipping company in the Far East (1880).
Leaving in the Celestial Empire trade, several dozen stone houses, a priceless collection of porcelain from Buddhist culture and a unique library of ancient books (there is evidence that the Louvre in Paris offered Startsev to buy all this for an astronomical sum at that time - 3 million francs, but he flatly refused), Alexey Dmitrievich began to settle into his new place.
Speaking several languages, knowing literature and history well, and having capital, the merchant of the 1st guild of Startsev did not like bohemian life, empty social pastime. He was a man of action. He liked Vladivostok, which was being built on the banks of the Golden Horn. Alexey Dmitrievich laid the foundation for a large five-story stone house on Svetlanskaya. However, he chose a different place for his permanent residence and main entrepreneurial and creative activities - the sparsely populated Fr. Putyatina in Peter the Great Bay.
In June 1891, Startsev purchased 1 thousand acres of land on Putyatin from the government, taking the rest of the territory on a long-term lease (99 years). Thus he became the master of the island. Of course, not all business colleagues believed that something serious could be done on a piece of land surrounded on all sides by the sea. Many considered Startsev’s idea an eccentricity.
Having hired workers, skilled craftsmen and engineers, and brought horses to the island, the son of the Decembrist rolled up his sleeves and actively got down to business. After quite a bit of time, skeptics were amazed at how Putyatin, through the efforts of Startsev and his assistants, was turning into an island of miracles.
From an empty place, a brick factory, equipped with modern equipment, very soon rose. Startsev began producing branded bricks from local raw materials, houses from which still stand in Vladivostok to this day. On each of them Startsev stamped his last name, i.e. He vouched for quality with his reputation. A small porcelain factory was being built nearby, the products of which were not inferior in quality and elegance to the work of Chinese craftsmen, of which Startsev was very proud. He establishes the production of magnificent silk on the island. He is engaged in horse breeding - he crosses English horses with hardy Transbaikal horses and gets a new breed. He breeds Kholmogory cows and overseas pigs, geese and ducks. He runs a deer farm and a snake nursery. He builds good roads on the island, which did not exist then on the “mainland”. He is planting a large orchard and vineyards, and is engaged in beekeeping.
In a word, no matter what entrepreneur Startsev undertook, everything worked out for him. Putyatin gradually turned into a fairy tale island, a garden island. For achievements in the field of agriculture and gardening, the merchant of the 1st guild Startsev was awarded the Big Silver Medal of the Ministry of Finance of Russia and the medal of the Khabarovsk Exhibition, which presented examples of the achievements of agriculture in the Far East.
Startsev did not skimp on charitable causes, being one of the most generous patrons of the arts in our city. He allocated money for the construction and maintenance of schools and hospitals, established scholarships, and supplied building materials for public needs. Thus, largely thanks to him, a solid building of the museum of the Society for the Study of the Amur Region, of which he was a member, was built.
The disaster happened on June 30, 1900. The merchant Startsev died suddenly - cardiac paralysis. As rumor claimed, Alexey Dmitrievich could not bear the news that as a result of the fighting during the Boxer Uprising in China, which was suppressed by Russian troops, his priceless collection of Buddhist religious items and a library of unique books were lost. Then it turned out that the book rarities had survived (they managed to be taken to Putyatin Island after Startsev’s death).
The merchant Startsev had five children: three sons - Nikolai, Dmitry and Alexander and two daughters - Elizaveta and the youngest Evdokia, a broken, desperate girl in whom Buryat blood seethed. From childhood, she learned to shoot accurately from a carbine, deftly ride horses, and fearlessly participated in brawls with local boys. And, you know, it’s no coincidence that she was called the “Putyatin Amazon” on the island.
After the death of Alexey Dmitrievich, his sons Alexander and Dmitry, together with their mother, founded the company “Heirs of Startsev”. They continued to produce bricks and sold coal. Like Alexey Dmitrievich, they were engaged in charitable activities, donating money and building materials for public needs.
During the years of the civil war and intervention in the Far East, the relatives of Alexei Startsev sold the fairy tale island, apparently realizing that miracles were coming to an end. Then, unable to find buyers in their homeland who could pay a decent price for the unique library, they sold it abroad. Where exactly and to whom is still a mystery.
For a long time it was also unknown to whom the Startsevs sold Fr. Putyatina. However, local historian Amir Khisamutdinov managed to establish that it was acquired by a certain lawyer Kaido, who moved with his family to Primorye from Manchuria. Today no one can say why this man needed an island in Peter the Great Bay when the entire Russian Empire was collapsing. A few years later, the new owner of the island died, and Putyatin went to the Soviet authorities for free, which in the fall of 1922 began to establish new order in Primorye with an iron hand.
Until the mid-20s. the company “Heirs of Startsev” managed to exist somehow, and then it was closed by the new government. The solid five-story stone house of the Startsevs in Vladivostok on the street was also nationalized. Svetlanskaya, 69. Relatives of one of the most famous entrepreneurs and richest people in Primorye suddenly found themselves without a stake, a yard and a means of subsistence (Where their parent’s considerable money went, as well as from the sale of the library, is also unknown. Legend has it that all the countless the wealth during the years of unrest was buried in a safe place on Putyatin Island.) Having left Vladivostok, they moved to European Russia, where they rented other people’s corners and did odd jobs. Even the fact that they were descendants of the Decembrist Nikolai Bestuzhev did not help. Moreover, in the summer of 1937, the Startsev brothers Dmitry and Alexander were arrested as enemies of the people, and they died in Stalin’s camps. Almost nothing is known about the fate of their sister Elizabeth. As for the “Putyaninsky Amazon” Evdokia Startseva, she and her husband traveled throughout the Russian Empire, after which she ended up in Serbia, where she ended her earthly journey in the second half of the 20s. Her older brother Nikolai also disappeared in the same area. From the once large family of Alexei Startsev, only the descendants of his son Alexander now live in Vladivostok.
In the fall of 1989 on the island. Putyatin, largely through the efforts of the staff of the museum named after V. Arsenyev and the famous local historian and patriot Boris Dyachenko (now, alas, deceased), a monument was erected to Alexey Dmitrievich Startsev (artist O. Kulesh, sculptor Z. Pipekina, funds were allocated by the Putyatinsky animal farm "). On a high column is a bust of the former successful owner of the island, which through his efforts was once turned into a fairy tale
Y. VIZBOR. PUTYATIN ISLAND
Sailing again into the sunset
Ships pass by
Little Putyatin Island
Near the great land.
We don't swim out of boredom,
We are not just looking for worries,
Darning the wounds of separation
A gray thread of roads.
This is not the first time for us -
Write letters from the east.
Storm clouds are floating
By time zone.
The sea trade winds whistle
Through city squares,
Addressees in old houses
They'll look at the mail again.
We will all be back, of course -
The trains will roll into the sunset,
To the girls we swear
Never leave.
But why on earth is this
Should we take off all the ships?
The small island of Putyatin,
Near the great land.
