Day 6 - Irktusk to Lake Baikal: get up at 5:00 to get off train, nice Alexander the driver takes us to Hotel Baikal at Lake Baikal, catch up on sleep in bed that's not moving(happy about that), walk to town, learn to walk home in dark coldness and eat pancakes.
It's -15 degrees when we get off the train and apparently unseasonably warm for this time of year...ouch - M says it's good practice for Chicago...I say I'm not sure I'm ready for Chicago...I want to go back to little old soggy England at this point. We take a long drive out to the lake through valleys of skinny feathery pines and snow, with little peeps of the lake along the way. The hotel is a scary concrete monolith from the soviet era perched on top of the cliff with wonderful views of the lake. I covet the 'retro' red and white plastic light fixture and red rotary phone.
Baikal is the oldest lake in the world(how can a lake be the oldest - answers from all the FESC's I know please) It's deep, it's freshwater and has lots of species that don't live anywhere else, including a freshwater seal, they call them Nerpa's. I'm still recovering from my cold and a poor nights sleep as the train was running late and seemed to be trying to make up time by cantering along the lines at a jolting pace. So much so that at one point we were both convinced our carriage had gone careering off on it's own.
The hotel is in it's out of season time and there are very few guests and the main restaurant is closed...so it's pancakes (and saveloys/hotdogs, eggs, a cheese like tofu and yoghurt for breakfast). We walk down to the town along the lake front, and the view is spectacular, it seems very big with lots of mountains surrounding it. The water hasn't frozen yet, though the guide tells us later that the water is so clear you can see beneath the ice. The houses along the water are either small cottages that the locals live in, that seem to be made up of any piece of wood around at the time, or log cabins with the corners chopped off. Despite the ramshackle appearance, I think they seem well cared for, something proven later when we get invited in. It's getting dark when we get to the fish market in the middle of Listvyanka (the main town on the lake where we are) but I get to taste smoked omul, which the the local delicacy, and a wonderful (hot) slightly salmony fish. I've only got tissues to wipe my hands so my gloves smell slightly fishy for a couple of days and dogs seem strangely attracted to me.
street lighting is a foreign concept so we make our way home in the dark up the icy hill to more pancakes for dinner.
- if you dip your hand in Lake Baikal waters you gain a year extra, 5 for a foot and 25 for your whole body...if you live through the cold that is!
Day 7 - Lake Baikal: see many dead fish, inside of a Siberian house and go on mammoth trek in wood. Eat more pancakes.
Liana meets us at 9 and takes us to the Baikal Natural museum which is actually quite interesting, and small so you're not overwhelmed. She whispers to us what each dead fish in a jar is as they don't like the private guards to speak too loudly. We learn about the deepness and the cleanness and get to see some cute sea lions in a very small tank. Apparently they've been rescued from an illegal hunter (he just wounded the mother, a good hunter would kill instantly!) and never lived outside. They're very fat cos its winter.
She walks down to Listvanka with us to meet the trekking guide and as her English is very good, we ask lots of annoying tourist type questions. She's just completed a 4 year child psychology degree but didn't like it so is now doing journalism for the next 3 years, whilst guiding is paying the way. Pizza is her favorite food and has become very popular in Siberia over the last 15 years. She has a fatalism I expected to see in Russian, ie 'we don't complain cos we don't expect any better' She doesn't remember much about being under communist rule (she's only 23) but her parents both work in a factory and I got the sense that it didn't affect them.
She takes us to the small orthodox church in Listvanka that has only recently been turned back into a church. It's interior is light and airy(quite unusual for a Russian church), with wonderful icons on every way. It's not much bigger than a meeting room(with high ceilings) but seems to rejoice in being allowed to be a church again.
We go to Rita's house and she makes us tea before we set out on the trek with Sacha. Very few houses (apart from the large ones being built as holiday homes) have indoor water and plumbing. They have microwaves and DVD player...but still use the outhouse/longdrop down the back of the garden. Water comes from the nearby well or sometimes the lake. I can imagine the arguments in our house if the water ran out...no you get it, no it's your turn, I can't be bothered..can we dial a drop?
We've asked the guide for a shorter walk (only 3 hours) as I'm still having problems with the cold and I'm not very fit. He agrees to take us in for an hour, hour for lunch, and then out again. We pick up his neighbor's dog (the adorable Mischa - bear in Russian) and walking sticks and set off. It soon appears that Sacha operates at Russian speed (about twice as fast - we get passed by old ladies up a hill later). He ends up waiting a lot, but is very patient about it. We start up hill and it's slightly warmer in the trees and the snows about 4 inches deep. I'm puffing and blowing like a steam train, with frequent nose wiping included, but it's beutiful in the trees. Sacha points out sable tracks and the hunter that is tracking it. We keep going over hill and dale, pausing on ridge lines to admire the view and stop me from going into cardiac arrest. After about 2 hours Sacha tells us he is going on ahead to light the fire for lunch and we can follow his tracks. He soon speeds of and we trudge uphill with cold wet boots. We jokingly come up with a plan if we get lost (IN THE SIBERIAN WOODS IN WINTER) which involves ring Intourist in the first instance and the UK police in the second...Luckily my girl guide skills M being the son of a hunter must have paid off as we soon spotted Mischa's dog pee in the snow and figured out we were still on the right track.
Sacha had a fire going (I think he regards his day job of teaching maths secondary to his outdoor skills) and made us soup of potato, onion and mackerel...very good when you're freezing your butt of in the Siberian forest. After lunch we heaved ourselves up to the top of the ridge and then began the long walk/slip/slide all the way home. Down hill was definitely better than uphill, though we could have done with a sled to go faster. Sacha kept going ahead then checking that we were still in sight and Mischa gave up entirely and went home, don't blame him, we definitely weren't fast. Eventually came out at the other side of Listvyanka and started the long walk home. Somehow the 3 hour walk turned into a 7 hour journey from the museum back to the hotel...and once again we were trudging home in the dark...and before you ask...not a taxi to be found.
More pancakes, a nicely frosted bottle of champagne and bit of repacking and we're ready for a 4am pick-up to get the train to Mongolia.
- UK's poor reputation for snow survival is mocked by Siberians...Liana asked 'Is is true that in Enlgand it stops when it snow'...to which we had to shamefacely reply 'YES'
- Thanks Pam and Nick for the possum fur knitted scarf you gave me for for christmas...its the best...and now Russian proof
ps - if anyone is reading this, can they pop a reply in, cos it gets awfully lonely on the road (even when travelling with your nearest and dearest) and now that's I've spent an hour writing this in Mongolia (I'll tell you about Mongolia when I get to China - promise) I'd like to know that at least one person was reading it.
No comments:
Post a Comment