HAVING gone to bed at about 11pm, I took to sleeping with just a sheet because it was far too warm. Overnight, the train has climbed through the mountainous edges of Mongolia to the border. Few people realise that Mongolia is about three times the size of France, twice as big as Texas and almost as large as Queensland in Australia.
Until the 20th Century, the country was almost twice its present size and owned a large part of Siberia, which has since been snatched back and is now securely controlled by the Russians.
During the night, the train stopped a number of times and tooted to let others pass, before rolling into the border station of Suhbaatar at around 5.35am, where it stopped for several hours.
I went out onto the station at about 7.15am and went to the washroom to freshen up. As I was mooching around on the platform, I realised we weren’t a train at all, but just two carriages standing on the track – which looked really odd.
There was nothing much happening on the station except for one old guy wandering around asking people if they wanted to change money – I felt this probably wasn’t a good idea as we were unsure of what was a good rate.
By 8am there were lots of Mongolians waiting to get on the train and I switched my mobile on and received a nice message from Tseegii, who said she hoped we had caught the right train and were having a nice time.
I replied, then picked up my well-browsed copy of Bryn Thomas’s Trans-Siberian Handbook to read while I waited for the border crossing to take place.
The crossing seemed to take forever. We had lots of paperwork to fill in, none of which we could read, which made it rather difficult. Luckily Tracey had a bit of an idea about how the different documents are filled in. It was only when I started counting all my various currencies that I realised I had far more tugrik than I thought I did – uh-oh!
Tracey said you couldn’t use or change tugrik in Russia, while Amanda told me roughly what the rate of exchange should be. We called the provodnitsa, who helped me catch the attention of the chap who changes money. Under the watchful eyes of the provodnitsa and a border guard, I changed 22,500 tug for 450 roubles (which was a pretty good deal). So I then had six currencies on me, US dollars, UK sterling, a few Chinese yuan, a tiny amount of Mongolian tug, euros and now roubles – and I was very confused.
As well as money-changing activities, there were lots of traders prowling round the train trying to sell (or at least hide) slippers, jeans, socks, tracksuit bottoms and warm jumpers. One lady was trying desperately to make another take a few jumpers – I guess she was concerned that she had too many and the border authorities would take them off of her.
I am quite sorry to leave Mongolia because it is a fabulous country. It is an ancient land with present-day traditions that are unchanged from the previous millennia.
However, it is also a young country that only gained its independence in 1990 and elected a new government last month. I think we saw the country’s new leader coming out of the back of Parliament House when we passed yesterday, because there were lots of smartly-suited officials and the television cameras were following a man dressed in an elegant silver-grey del, who got into a black jeep. He was surrounded by people with bouquets of flowers, which suggests he was a VIP.
But now into Siberia. After a lot of hanging around on the Mongolian border, we had to cross through no man’s land before reaching the monster fence which marked the Russian border.
During this time, we had to fill in yet more paperwork and guards came into our compartments and searched our baggage and checked under the beds and up in the roof-space for stowaways. This was all very amusing, especially when they were shown the huge cake under the floor, which belongs to one of the men in a nearby compartment.
The guards let us have our passports back and released us into the border town of Naushki, where we were stopped for about two hours. There isn’t much in Naushki, just a lot of painted houses on dusty unmade roads, cattle milling loose in the park, a war memorial, a cafe and two little shops.
Nikki and I had a good mooch round and bought some soft drinks, bananas and a small piece of cheese at one of the shops, then took a look at the clothes market and went back to the station, where we hung around for a while and watched railway staff shunting trains back and forth and adding more carriages to our train.
We rejoined our train and after two hours at Naushki, we were off on our way through the Siberian countryside. Hello Russia!
Think Siberia and you are probably thinking of Siberian countryside thick with snow, Dr Zhivago, gulags and fur hats. But on a bright autumn day like today, it is full of ‘fall’ colours and more reminiscent of Canada or New England, with orange and yellow trees, blue rivers and big mountains.
Siberia itself was not originally Russian territory. It was settled by the Russians from the 15th Century onwards, originally to prevent the Mongols and Tartars from re-establishing themselves. Later, the Russians kept hold of it purely for reasons of territorial expansion and a drive for the warm water trading ports of the Pacific.
The name of Siberia isn’t Russian either – it is thought to come from ‘Sebiyr’, which means The Sleeping Land in Tartar. Incredibly, Russia was once subject to Siberian rule. From 1240 to 1480, Russia was a subject state of the Mongols and their rule was policed locally for them by the Tartars – a people native to Siberia – who settled in Kazan.
People also have the idea that Siberia is permanently covered in snow, but it’s not. Siberia has blazing hot summers with average July/August temperatures of 26-28 deg C, so forest fires can be a real problem.
But the winters are viciously cold and Siberia is thought to be the coldest place on Earth – even colder than the poles – because of its elevation and distance from the ocean. In the north of Siberia, extreme winter lows of minus 62 deg C have been recorded and as low as minus 52 deg C has been recorded in the cities.
All of Siberia lies in Asia and the western borders are marked by the Ural Mountains, the southern borders are marked by the Altai Mountains (which we crossed early this morning) and the eastern borders by the Sayan Mountains. These mountain ranges effectively make an amazing atmospheric dam that contains the freezing air and keeps Siberia cold in winter.
The other things I have already noticed about Siberia is that everyone has a dog and it is also Lada city – I have a special affection for Ladas because I learned to drive in one and I always thought they were great budget motoring (and pretty reliable too).
This afternoon the gentle motion of the train lulled me to sleep for a while and when I woke, I was surrounded by gorgeous countryside, with mountains and birch trees on one side and a massive lake on the other side. Someone said it was called Goose Lake, though I am not sure if that’s right.
We watched the sun go down, tingeing the sandy-coloured tundra fiery red. There’s no dining car on this particular leg of the journey, so we joined the great masses in eating noodle soup, a locally-produced pot-noodle type thing, plus the cheese and crackers.
We have an amazing girl from Holland in our carriage. She decided to cycle from home to Beijing to watch some friends competing in the Olympic Games in August. So she has taken five months to go from Holland through Germany, Austria, the Czech Republic, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Iran, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazahkstan and into China.
On the way back, she has also visited Mongolia and is headed back to Moscow and possibly St Petersburg. Her bike is currently strapped on the tail-end of our carriage.
Tonight, we are headed towards Ulan Ude, which we should reach between 9pm and 10pm. Ulan-Ude (pronounced Ulan Uday) is the capital of Buryatia, a semi-autonomous region of Siberia. The Buryats are one of the native Asiatic peoples of Siberia and their ancestors lived here long before Russian settlers came from the west.
Buryat life was nomadic, like most of the steppe people of Siberia and central Asia. The Buryats would rotate from a winter stockade where they would spend the worst winter months to two or three different summer grazing locations.
Cossacks settled in Ulan-Ude from the 17th Century onwards, so today the city is full of Russian settlers and the Buryats are still largely nomadic.
We stopped briefly at Ulan-Ude and the temperature outside when I jumped down onto the platform was a mild 4 deg C. If you have time to look around Ulan Ude, the most popular things to visit are the giant Lenin head and the Ivolginsky Datsan, which is the centre of Buddhism in Russia.
Alas, we weren’t staying and there was nothing much happening on the platform, so I jumped back on the train and packed everything up because we are scheduled to get off quite early at Irkutsk in the morning and I plan to be totally organised.
As suspected, the carriage attendants woke us up at about 6.45am and made us strip our beds as soon as possible and give back our hand towels. Nikki and I managed a quick snack before the train stopped at Irkutsk at around 8am.
Our new guide Sergei was waiting almost right outside our carriage as we disembarked. We followed him through the station - which had lots of steps - and into the car park where our driver, Valery, was waiting. We popped our cases in the car and began the 120km drive to Bolshoe Goloustnoe, a remote village on the edge of Lake Baikal.
Above: Lake Baikal, which earns its nickname of the Pearl Of Siberia, because it is a gem.
Nikki was soon asleep on the drive, but I was astounded by the amazing colour of the trees as we drove through the frost-sharp Siberian countryside.
We stopped part-way through the route for a short break and there were ‘wish trees’ where people had tied short pieces of fabric to the lower branches and made a wish. I have also been finding lots of coins in the clearing by these trees and this is because people use really low denomination kopec coins to make a wish. It was minus 6 deg C at our forest stop, but bright and beautiful.
We continued a distance and Nikki and Sergei drifted back to sleep, but I was transfixed by the scenery, which reminded me a little of pictures I have seen of Canada, because it was all hills smothered in fabulous green and gold foliage.
We crested the hill and I could see the great watery mass of Baikal shimmering in the distance with Bolshoe Goloustnoe spread along the shore.
Valery continued about two-thirds of the way along the village road, before pulling up at the brightly-coloured wooden house of our host, Galena.
She was a very cheerful lady and had kindly cooked us breakfast, because around 10am is the normal breakfast time in this part of Siberia. So we sat down to buckwheat porridge, which Sergei explains is a traditional Russian dish, plus home-made pastries and thick apple jam.
After breakfast, we get to choose our bedrooms and they are all lovely, but we pick the smallest one next to the stove, in case it’s really cold. A traditional Siberian wooden izba such as this one has a stove right in the middle of the house, with the bedrooms, lounge and kitchen around it. There is also a further outer hallway for taking off shoes and coats etc.
There is no bathroom in the house and traditionally there would be no running water, though there is an internal sink here for washing your hands and brushing your teeth. The toilet is of the long-drop composting type and is right at the end of the garden. It doesn’t smell at all and seems very efficient.
The garden also contains the banya (sauna) and the well, as well as lots of flowers and herbs. Fishing nets hang on one side of a building and fresh omul fish from Lake Baikal are drying in a row in the sun on one of the outbuildings. They are the Siberian version of small salmon.
Above: Omul fish, a staple part of the local diet, drying in the sun on Galena’s wall.
Having explored the house and garden, we unpacked a little before going for a walk around the village with Sergei. He takes us right to the shore of Lake Baikal and then to the old church on the lakeside. We climb the hill to a vantage point and sit down.
Here, we have the most amazing view over what is virtually the narrowest point of Lake Baikal – the far shore is approximately 40km away and its mountains are covered in snow.
After a while, we got up and walked through the woodland and Sergei showed us how they ate larch needles – I sampled them and found they taste a bit lemony at this stage of the autumn. Apparently they are sharper-flavoured in spring.
We got talking about our families and Sergei has two daughters aged 21 and 14, but his wife died of cancer three years ago, aged just 37. I could have wept, because as well as Jeremy, I have lost two other young friends to different forms of cancer, aged 23 and 42.
Hearing Sergei talk about the loss of his wife and the effect it had on him and his daughters reminds me of the Earl Mountbatten Hospice and just how lucky we are on the Isle Of Wight to have somewhere that helps the families of terminally-ill people to prepare for what lies ahead.
We went across to look at the river, which seemed even colder to my fingers than Lake Baikal and Sergei told us of how he was born inside the Arctic Circle and rode horses when he was growing up. When he was 18, he was conscripted into the Russian Army and served at a camp in the Gobi Desert in Mongolia. Although he now lives in Irkutsk, he would love to return to the Gobi one day and visit his former base.
We walked back through the village to Galena’s house in the early afternoon sun. On entering, we found she was just serving up lunch, including schee, which is a traditional soup eaten with dollops of mayonnaise, plus pasta and meatballs with sliced tomato and freshly-made coleslaw, followed by pastries, biscuit and sweets. Wow!
After lunch, Nikki decided to have a little nap (I think she’s got my cold), while I took a walk down to the shore with the idea of having a paddle. I had my travel towel with me and while paddling, I started thinking that it wasn’t too cold, so I stripped down to my knickers and went in.
I ducked down under the water right up to my neck, counted to eight or so and decided it was very cold really – must be minus something, so I got out, dried myself carefully and re-dressed, minus the wet knickers. Then I sat in the sunshine and texted Mum and Hugh.
The local dogs came over, plunged into the lake for a drink and then lay down in the sun beside me. I sat day-dreaming as I looked out over the vast shimmering lake.
Lake Baikal is one of the wonders of the natural world. Many people describe it as the most voluminous lake in the world by virtue of the fact it is the deepest lake on the planet and measures more than one mile in depth. Incredibly, it holds more than one-fifth of the world’s fresh water and it has a surface area the size of Belgium.
It is some 636km long and is home to some 2,630 species of flora and fauna, around 75 per cent of which are not found anywhere else in the world, so it is an ecological gem, as well as a visual one.
In winter, the lake freezes over with ice more than a metre thick and cars can drive across it, while in summer, its crystalline depths are transparent to a depth of 40 metres and its shores are ringed with the brilliant colours of seasonal wildflowers.
I find myself thinking about Tracey’s party, who have gone to the nearby village of Listvyanka, which is also on the shore of Lake Baikal and is known for its beautiful wooden izbas. Hope they are having a dip in the lake too!
Legend has it that those brave enough to take a dip in Baikal will add years to their life. If you put a hand or a foot into the water, you will gain an extra five years, whereas if you submerge your whole body – as I have done – you will add at least another 25 years of life. It is an interesting thought.
By 4pm, I decided to return home and I found a little shop on the way, so I bought some Baikal vodka to toast our colds later.
Back at the izba, Nikki and I got ready for our initiation into the banya, which is a Russian version of a sauna. It consisted of three rooms, a cool one, a medium one and a hot one. It was unusual in that you could wash your hair and body in the hot area, splash yourself down with cold water, lay out in the heat, splash down with cold water again and so on – a really lovely experience.
Afterwards, I returned to the izba to do a little bit of writing – the first today. Siberia is also proving to be an assault on my senses, but in another way. There is still brilliant blue sky, complete silence, a warm sun and startling foliage colours including green, gold and orange. But everywhere you tread you will also crush herbs growing underfoot, so it is fabulously fragrant too.
What with a day just ambling around in the countryside, a dip in the mighty Baikal, a banya and a comfortable bed that isn’t moving, I felt deeply relaxed tonight. You really can get away from it all here.
Galena had cooked a fabulous dinner including pelmeni (stuffed dumplings) and then we all had three toasts of Baikal vodka and followed the tradition of dipping the ring finger of the right hand into the vodka and laying a drop on the table for great Baikal, flicking a few drops into the air for the spirits and then placing a drop on our hearts for a wish.
After that, we got the DVD player going with a film about Lake Baikal and we were about 15 minutes into it when the fuse blew, plunging us into darkness. Galena went to the fusebox, I grabbed a torch and followed her and we soon had it sorted out.
Sergei decided he would like to go to bed and Galena lives in one of the outside buildings, so they bade us goodnight and Nikki and I finished the film on our own, before going to bed at about 10.30pm. I was asleep in minutes.
Above: My bed at Galena’s in Bolshoe Goloustnoe. Note the carpets used on the walls for insulation.