Tom's diary Irkutsk - Lake Baikal by road & ferry ca. 1200 Km

Train-trail diary_Tom

Sat 7 – Mon 9 July 2007, Days 11 – 13

Irkutsk – Olkhon Island (by road & ferry, ca. 1200 Km)

Train # 4 rolled into Irkusk pretty much on time, at around 5.20 AM on Saturday. Of course, the notion of time was all a bit strange anyway since I had not been updating my watch with the five extra hours of time difference from Moscow, for the reason that all Russian trains run on Moscow time, all station clocks show this time, and the timetables as well. So it really felt like we were going to dinner earlier each day, until it felt like lunch, and the arrival time was scheduled at just after midnight. The lack of night outside added to this illusion of time – so arriving anywhere was bound to feel weird, since the rest of the world (outside the station) runs on its local time.

To my intense relief, this time there was a friendly Russian giant called Victor waiting for us in the underpass under Irkutsk station, with my name on a piece of A4 paper. We were joined in his Nissan minibus by two backpackers, Gideon and Barnaby. Gideon was a Bristol Uni student studying Earth Sciences, and Barnaby was his brother who had just finished a philosophy degree at Cambridge. Our fates are intertwined for a bit, since not only are they staying at Nikita’s Homestead on Olkhon Island, our destination in the Nissan, but also they are travelling to Ulan Bator on Monday on the same Train # 362 as we are.

Victor diverted via a cash machine so we could replenish the kitty, and then showed us a bit of pre-dawn Irkutsk. Mostly run-down houses, with a few beautiful 19th century wooden Siberian buildings. Then the open road, with dawn shining through occasional layers of mist in wooded valleys. Stopped for breakfast at a caff – fresh doughnuts, sausage rolls, tea. Disgusting loos. Prices one-fifth of what they were on the train. Back to Russia!

I sat at the front with Victor and he talked to me in Russian. I understood around half of what he said. His mother had been a Polish political deportee to Siberia. He had been a fireman fighting forest fires. He had a great love of the area, knew its fauna and flora. He pointed out the eagles flying over the road; a marmot risking its life crossing in front of a car; he screeched to a halt to look at flowers he had not seen before (a type of convolvulus) and at the same time he showed us an edelweiss growing by the road; and most of his explanations were aided by hand gestures during which he would let go of the steering wheel, the Nissan would veer to the right, and he would catch the wheel just before we would meet our death in the ditch at 100 km/hr. He was a bit of a driver, especially when the tarmac ran out and the Nissan hurtled along the dirt road overtaking most things in its path (I like the word “hurtled” at the moment). The Nissan was a Japanese-wreck import, with right-hand drive and instruments in Km. The windscreen was cracked all over from stones, or perhaps passengers who head-butted it since the seat-belt attachments did not work. Random warning lights glowed and flashed on the dashboard. But it was good at hurtling.

We reached the ferry at a place called Mrk or some such. Long queue of cars, small ferry but luckily Victor told us that we were to go aboard as foot passengers and would be met by a new van on the other side. A new guide, Sergei, came aboard with us for the short crossing to Olkhon Island on the huge and beautiful Lake Baikal. He then loaded us into an ancient Russian van which zipped along the one road on the island, progressively filling up with exhaust fumes and probably leading to CO poisoning but luckily we reached Nikita’s homestead while we still had some haemoglobin left.

What a bizarre and wonderful place we have come to! A set of wooden buildings outside the island’s only village. A reception and central canteen in the centre, also a bar called the Happy Olout (a local fish from the lake). All meals are included. Our rooms were in a wooden house close to reception. Large rooms, with no running water but a bucket and ladle, and a sink draining into a canister. Carpets, nice rustic beds, a sole lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling (mains power is a new arrival on the island). We were knackered after the early start and the six-hour road journey so we went to bed before lunch.

The food is great. Typically, a soup followed by a small piece of baked fish for lunch; for dinner, a salad, then a stew, then a piece of cake. Breakfasts are great, with porridge with cranberry syrup, fried eggs, bread, and pancakes. There are pots of various kinds of tea freely available. The whole thing weighs in at 15 pounds each per day with all meals included.

Just below the homestead there is a gorgeous sandy beach with clear blue lake water. That’s where we headed after lunch. The sun beat down – what a hot place Siberia is! We settled down on the sand and dipped toes into the water – OUCH! Bloody cold. We dipped my watch in it and had a competition to guess the temperature. The watch thermometer settled down at 11.8º C. But it had to be done, so we saw how many seconds each of us could survive. At first it seemed a chore, but later, all sweaty from the heat of the beach, the sudden immersion in icy water became a sensual pleasure.

Dinner and bed.

The next day was a Sunday. Carol and I rented two bicycles and set off with a small hand-drawn map, to traverse the island. The first stretch was horrid, along the corrugated sandy island road for 3 km. But then we turned inland, up the steppe. A little track leading up into the hills and forest. Alpine flowers everywhere, including a whole field full of edelweiss. The forest at the top also had lots of flowers including some that may have been orchids. Marmots in evidence. Meadows with more flowers. We turned around after 3 hours so as to make it back for a late lunch, taking another 2 hours for the descent, with some exhilarating hurtling!

Time for a last bit of beach. More glacial immersions to wash off the dust of the cycling. Then, with some trepidation, our first banya. Like a sauna but with buckets of hot and cold water, which you mix in bowls and wash yourself with. It’s the only way to wash in this place with water delivered by bowsers, and it was gorgeous. I normally hate saunas, but this was better cos it had a window to ease the claustrophobia, and the washing was delightful. We washed each other’s hair and splashed each other with water of various temperatures. I want to build one in my garden back in Bristol!

Beer before dinner in the Happy Olut, then more with dinner. A stroll to the beach to watch the sunset over the lake. Conversation with a drunken man from Irkutsk whose wife had told him to get out for fresh air. Back to the Happy Olut for more beers. Tomorrow we have a minibus booked for 12.30 and the internet café is open from 10 so we will try to post this on our blog.