Yanrakynnot, Russian FederationTO YANRAKYNNOT
An Early, Early Start From Rumilet Bay
We had made peace with the bear. It was not a comfortable night but the bear skin coat and extra sleeping bag "mattress" had at least allowed us a few hours of sleep. But waking at 4:00 am was a very early start.
Our most pressing concern however, was the question as to whether the weather was fine enough for us to make our journey north along the Bering Strait to our next destination of Yanrakynnot. The Beringia staff had continually reminded us that our journey was entirely weather dependent and there was every chance we could be delayed and have to spend another night or two at our infamous Rumilet Bay "Resort". A situation which didn't bear (excuse the pun) thinking about.
Alex's gifts to the gods must have worked. And I must admit that despite our skepticism, they continued to smile kindly upon us throughout our journey. As mentioned, any delays or missed flights would have been devastating for our tightly planned itinerary through Chukotka and the Russian Far East. Given our difficult schedule, it really was a miracle....
The day was again dismally bleak but at least it was not windy or pouring with rain. The good news was that we knew Vladimir and Nikolai were more than keen to take us so that they could return early to claim their walrus tusks from the corpse they found the day before on the shores of Yttygran Island.
We also knew that they had to return their boat to the Whale Research base on the other side of Rumilet Bay in time to be picked up by a Beringia Trekol and driven back to Provideniya. Even still, leaving at 4.30 am did seem very early....
As we choked down our breakfast of bread and cheese, Nikolai talked to us again about our accommodation at the Yanrakynnot school. It would not have been hard for him to notice we are not the camping types and that we were really hanging out for a hot shower, a decent meal - and some privacy. And of course Alex was as well. Nikolai was in fact, very upbeat about the school, explaining very precisely there were two separate bedrooms, a shower and toilet, and reiterated we would be provided with three cooked meals each day. After three days without a shower or proper food, we were very happy.
Toward Yanrakynnot
By 4:30 am our little boat, packed to the gunnels with all our luggage, fuel and five passengers, was ready to leave for Yanrakynnot. Thank goodness, I thought, we didn't have to share it with the rotting walrus. After not showering for three days, I am sure we smelt bad enough as it was.
Conditions were overcast but calm as we sped through the dark steely waters of the Seniavina Strait north to our next destination. Surrounding rock splattered shorelines of Yttygran and Arakamchechen Islands were shrouded in thick heavy fog, but to our relief, the visibility on the water was reasonably good.
At such an early hour, the bird and animal life was at its best. Flocks of shrieking, squawking birds were so dense they darkened the cloudy white skies; their noise deafening against the roar of our little boat's motor as it sped us north along the waterways of the Bering Strait. And there were whales everywhere. Many travelling in pairs, they trumpeted jets of water, snorting contentedly as they surged through the still dark waters. Near Arakamchechen Island, Vladimir slowed our boat down while we were surrounded by hundreds of shaggy headed, bug-eyed seals - all looking very surprised to see us humans.
We could well have been on another planet as we drifted through a wild life paradise. And our two Beringia friends were delighted too. The walrus corpse was still there, tusks and all.
Yanrakynnot Ahead!
After an hour of travelling Alan suddenly pointed excitedly toward what appeared to be a distant island settlement. It was not an island but the village of Yanrakynnot. We both took in a deep breath. It looked so much like our home village of Crowdy Head*, once an island itself but now like Yanrakynnot, joined to the mainland by an isthmus.
*Crowdy Head is located on the Mid North Coast of New South Wales, Australia.
A very long spit of gravelly sand stretched south from Yanrakynnot. Like so much of the coastline of the Bering Strait, the waterways were extraordinarily complex, featuring long semi-permanent spits, convoluted channels and not surprisingly very strong currents. And it took Vladimir some manoeuvering to steer our little boat into the channel and toward the shore. Along the beach and just before we moored at Yanrakynnot, we noticed what appeared to be another "whale bone alley" but from what we could see this one was far larger and much more complex in design. And this is what we saw as we sped toward Yanrakynnot village: https://youtu.be/IwdvKFD88uw
And then we saw the actual village itself. A series of tiny brightly painted cottages, huge satellite dishes and masses of coal and fuel storage drums dominated the shorelines of Yanrakynnot. As we moored onto a stony gravel beach, our first thoughts were how interesting the village looked - and how strangely familiar it felt. Not that it looked close-up anything like our own village of Crowdy Head, but we felt an almost instant affection for the tiny settlement. And at the time we were of course at sea level, and could see nothing of the village's truly exquisite setting. Nor for that matter, it's forlorn housing and poor infrastructure....
Vladimir and Nikolai were anxious to get going. As I helped Nikolai carry off our cases he turned to me and looking somewhat sad, said something along the lines of "We really hope you enjoy the rest of your trip and that it turns out better than the first part. We cannot believe how patient both of you have been....". Perplexed, I wondered just who was organising this trip....
IN YANRAKYNNOT
A Communication Breakdown OR Something Went Badly Askew....
A Special Note: I thought long and hard before I decided to include this incident in my blog. We believe it was some sort of communication breakdown - aka "head on clash of cultures" perhaps? But even now, we have no idea what the real story was.
At the outset, we had a wonderful trip with Kutkh Travel and we are to this day very appreciative of our tour and still very good friends with all three company directors. This is however, an example of what can go horribly wrong with different perceptions and perhaps a misunderstanding of what the trip involved.
And in fairness, we were warned it would be a difficult journey not only from the organisation's side, but would also present major challenges for our own endurance...
The incident was not really a big deal. But it was significant. The situation was quickly resolved. But only after a bit of stress.... To include it, runs the risk of creating poor image of our travel company - which would be unfair. But to exclude it, would mean that a lot of what happened following this morning would be out of context. And there were other incidents to come....
So, this is what happened:
On Our Arrival at Yanrakynnot School.....
Mikhail and the film crew who had been delayed the night before on their journey to Lorino, had called in to Yanrakynnot where they were accommodated at the local school. Leaving so late on that frightful evening, it was no surprise that at 5:30 am they were still there. What was a surprise was that no-one was there to greet us and it appeared that no-one had any idea that we were arriving.
To put it mildly, we were feeling like a "heap of shit". Having stayed in rough conditions at the "Resort", with little food and without a wash for three days together with a crazy early start, had taken a toll on our spirits. Dirty, hungry and miserable, all we wanted was a shower and something decent to eat. But it was not to be.
"Please don't talk so loudly. The film crew is asleep" whispered Alex. "Did you bring slippers with you? Oh no? Well, wash your shoes before you enter. We will just have to wait until everyone is up and ready".
The comment did not dignify a reply. We sat in stony silence for an hour or so before we asked if at the very least, we could get some coffee and something to eat. "Well, the cook has not turned up and there's no food. We will have to wait until the Principal comes". It was not a good start.
A few hours later, Yuliya turned up. An attractive, friendly and helpful woman, Yuliya was apparently the school Principal's personal assistant. Although she tried her very best to help us, there was nothing she could do until the film crew had left and we could take a shower - and as we assumed, move into the two rooms.
And then all hell broke loose. Alex took us to what we understood would be our sleeping quarters for the next two nights. "We can't sleep here!" we cried aghast as we were led into a huge dormitory filled with about fifty individual toddler's cots. In all honesty, the cots would have had difficulty in sleeping a ten year old child let alone the almost two meter Alan. Alex insisted that all we had to do was to place three cots together and we could then lie across them as one bed - gaps and all. And that is to say nothing of our toddlers' toilet, all of some 50 cm in height.... Not surprisingly, everything was made on a micro level for small children, even the chairs were only inches off the ground.**
But what about the school's two accommodation rooms we asked? It sounded very much like the film crew may have been staying for more than one night. The only response was that there was nowhere else to stay and that was it.
In fear of really "losing it", I found Mikhail. But during our conversation there appeared to be no resolution. As far as we could gather, this was where we were meant to stay for two nights and that was that. And then I did "lose it". And I'm sure the whole school heard it too.
Mikhail looked puzzled. Alex looked shocked. Yes, it had been quite a performance and I truly regretted having had to resort to such extremes. "Well," said Mikhail very slowly "You could travel on to Lorino where there is good accommodation and well, everything really...". We were however not in a negotiating mood and certainly not prepared to forgo our stay in Yanrakynnot. After all, we had missed our entire stay in Provideniya. We were just astounded that after all our careful planning, we had no reasonable accommodation. Or food for that matter.
After some silence, Mikhail said to Alan "Well, come and I'll show you your room". And with that, he and Alan walked off while I sat smoldering on my own. I decided to do a voice recording for my blog but the batteries were flat in my recorder. Yes, that was the last straw - until I remembered I had indeed brought with me some spare batteries! Maybe it was a god sent signal things would look up?
And they did. The long and short of it was that we were given the film crew's rooms and once they vacated, we were able to move in - as we had always assumed we would. God only knows what was going on.... Was there a change in heart about how many days the film crew was to stay at Yanrakynnot? Who knows....
Not long after, Victor the school Principal arrived - and the film crew finally departed. Very apologetic, the genial Victor did everything he could to help us, moving one of the beds and some of the furniture out of our room so that Alex could have his own accommodation. He then insisted on giving us a bottle of one of his own red wines and loaning us his personal coffee maker, while Yuliya grabbed a mop and cleaned our room. It was all a bit weird. We were very grateful though.
The rooms were basic but absolutely fine. We did have to share a shower and toilet with Alex but it was certainly much more satisfactory than lying across three children's cots. But how the twelve members of the film crew plus Mikhail managed to fit into the two rooms this size was beyond us. At that stage, a lot of things seemed beyond belief....
** Later the next day, a number of small children, some as young as just three years old, were accommodated in the same dormitory. Had we been staying there, we would have been sharing with around ten very small children.
We may have won the accommodation battle but we sure didn't win the food war.... Victor explained that the cook just hadn't shown up and well, there was no offer of any food. After a shower and some coffee and yes, the last of our stale bread and cheese, we decided to head off into town to stock up on our provisions and have a look around the village.
About Yanrakynnot
Yanrakynnot is named after the rocky outcrop upon which it stands. Meaning "detached land" in Chukchi, the former island is located in the Seniavina Strait at the base of the Venetken (Chukchi for "curved") spit adjacent to the coast of the Venetken Lagoon on the mouth of the Marich River. Most of the surrounding land is part of the Beringia National Park.
Transport to and from Yanrakynnot is usually by boat or helicopter, although there is a rough unpaved track to Provideniya some 80 kilometers to the south.
There is certainly not much available literature about remote Yanrakynnot. The village comprises a basic hospital, school, general store, post office, library and power station. Like many villages in the Russian far East, its population was devastated after the Soviet collapse. Today, less than 350 people reside in Yanrakynnot, most of whom are Chukchi. The main economy is based on whaling and fishing, although from what we understand those industries have diminished significantly in recent years.
Today, Yanrakynnot's main claim to fame is its stunning scenery, pristine environment (ignore the decaying buildings, rusting infrastructure and surrounding waste), its interesting long whaling history and its very own version of whalebone alley.
An Afternoon Walk Around Yanrakynnot
Alex was not at all happy about being in Yanrakynnot. It was he explained, a town full of drunkards; one of the worst villages in Chukotka for alcoholism. We breezed off his concerns, thinking he was just feeling tired and jaded after the morning's events....
On a cold and miserable afternoon, we headed off on our voyage around the village with our main mission to find the General Store. It was not hard to find. There is not a lot to Yanrakynnot. Deciding we would leave the more exciting part of buying food until the end, we wandered around the lonely unpaved streets of the village.
The first thing that struck us was the poverty. And then the lack of people. Like Novoye Chaplino, a lot of the housing comprised rows of square prefabricated cottages, painted in a wild variety of vibrant colours. Again, it seemed like a pathetic attempt to perhaps cheer up the little settlement. Other houses were in a serious state of decay; rotting timber and exposed broken pipes everywhere. Still inhabited, we wondered why some of the people were unlucky enough to live in these crumbling premises while others were more fortunate to live in houses that although small and modest, were at least in fairly new condition?
Other houses had smashed windows, some had massive holes in their walls while others had sheets of cladding hanging off. Was it the severe climate and often gale force winds we wondered? For a village located in the most stunning location, it was heart breaking to see the sheer neglect and broken infrastructure.
Eventually we did find some local people. A woman approached Alex asking him if we would be interested in her visiting us at the school and doing some sort of singing and dancing performance in her full indigenous dress. Alex gave her his phone number and said we would get back to her.
At another house, a man with a delightful smile leaned out over the tiny verandah of his home, asking Alex where we were from and what we were doing in Yanrakynnot. Anatoly was a lovely man. Now the only electrician in town, he talked to us at length about the demise of his village. Following the Soviet collapse, the once lively village had literally fallen on its knees. There used to be three electricians but with the dwindling population, they had left to find employment elsewhere. Even the whaling and fishing industries had diminished. Our interesting conversation lasted nearly an hour. We were very taken with Anatoly and his open friendliness.
As we left, we asked Alex "Well what do people do here then?" "They just drink" he replied solemnly. Even then, we thought he was exaggerating.
Nearly back to our school "hotel" we were met by a bunch of very friendly children. A bundle of life, they looked to be having a great time in the local playground. A tiny waif of a girl dressed in a pink outfit caught our eye. She would not have been more than three years of age, and she was simply filthy. Not the kind of day to day superficial mud and dirt you see on kids but the accumulated grime of years. A face much older than her tender years, the young girl peered seriously at us. It was not a look of disdain or even one of judgment. She just kept looking intently at us as if she was processing just who we might be. On closer observation, all the kids were really dirty - but they certainly gave every impression that they were happy - and free.
Soon, a large group of adults appeared. They were curious and very friendly but unlike the kids they were all "happy drunk". Perhaps it was just a celebration party we had run into, we thought. But from there on, all the people who came to talk with us (via Alex's interpretation, of course) were pretty well inebriated; some not just merry but virtually legless. For people like us who love nothing more than a quiet drink, it was quite a shock.
We still did not believe Alex, thinking these encounters may have been just co-incidental. Well that is, until the next day when we saw the photos we took of us with the locals.... And it was not at all surprising that Alex was uncomfortable in Yanrakynnot. After all, he was a proud young Chukchi man and these were his people....
I am truly sorry I didn't take any photos of the General Store. But sometimes, and especially being foreigners, there are situations when it is just not appropriate. We were lucky to find the store had a good range of stock as we were out of nearly every bit of food we had (well, for good reasons, the second package of sausages was not opened....). Happily we stocked up as best we could on bread, biscuits, cheese, jam and coffee - even buying some fruit, vegetables and hallelujah, two dozen eggs! But there was no milk for our coffee. Alan found a container of "long life" milk but the use by sticker said February 2015! "Well, it's supposed to be 'long life'" insisted a desperate Alan. We bought it anyway....
An Evening with Victor, Yuliya and Vadim. "Please Tell Your Country That Russians Are Good People, Nice People - and That Chukotka is Good..."
Yuliya was keen for us to meet her husband Vadim. A professional fisherman, Vadim had set nets across the channel just opposite the school. Yuliya insisted on inviting us in the late afternoon to watch the netting which would hopefully contain some females from which she could harvest some salmon roe. "I make 'five minute caviar' and I want to show you how it is done". Say no more. I simply adore caviar....
Just before we left to watch the netting process, Alex and I ran into Victor who asked if everything was OK. I took the opportunity there and then to ask if there was any possibility of getting a cooked meal that evening. "Of course. I will cook for you. It will be a pleasure" He purred. "Would turkey with buck wheat be alright?". What a question! After four days without proper food, it sounded like heaven on earth.... But why for goodness sake, did we have to resort to asking for food? Meanwhile the packaged sausages sat incubating with some tubs of yoghurt, with no refrigeration....
To our delight Yuliya and Vadim did net quite a few big salmon trout, apparently known by the somewhat amusing name of "Dolly Varden". And luckily some were females so we watched with interest while Yuliya made her "five minute caviar".
In the school kitchen using an old shuttlecock racquet as a makeshift sieve, Yuliya worked carefully to remove and separate the roe from its protective skin. She then added a saturated salt solution, let it stand for five minutes then strained it. Voila, Five Minute Caviar! And it was delicious.
Victor's turkey and buckwheat was fabulous and I can't tell you how much we enjoyed a good hot meal again. Yuliya and her lovely husband Vadim joined us for dinner. They were great company and together with a bottle of good vodka supplied by the generous Victor, we thoroughly enjoyed our evening.
After our meal, Victor asked what we had planned for the next day. Well, nothing as it happened... "I'll call up the boys and they can take you on a drive around the surrounds of Yanrakynnot. Oh, and by the way, you will be on ATV quad bikes. Is that OK?". We were not sure who "the boys" were but it sounded good to us. We had never ridden quad bikes but they couldn't be more difficult than riding snow mobiles, could they?
Just before we finished for the evening, Yuliya suddenly blurted “Tell me, why do people from the West dislike Russian people? We are good people. Russia is a good country. Chukotka is good! Please tell your people!”. It was all true and we knew it. That's one of the reasons I write blogs. But her comment was also very sad. We promised we would pass on her message. And of course, we have.
YANRAKYNNOT DAY 2 - FUN AND NEAR DISASTERS.....
The Sad Alcohol Problems of Yanrakynnot
Alex was right. Sadly, a large percentage of Yanrakynnot's population suffer the debilitating consequences of alcoholism. It was quite shocking to witness a community so broken, the lives of its people were torn in tatters.
In fact, it reminded us much of our own indigenous Aboriginal people whose history and circumstances are somewhat the same.
The Chukotka indigenous people were not a "Stolen Generation" in the same way our own Aborigines were. But similarly, the Russian government for what was probably thought to be all the "right" reasons, had radically changed the culture and traditional lifestyle of the ethnic Chukchi and Eskimos. During and long after the Soviet era indigenous people were collectivised and moved into central villages. And up until quite recently their children were forcibly sent to Russian boarding schools, often many thousands of kilometers away from their homeland. There they were not allowed to use their ethnic languages nor practice their culture. Russian language was compulsory for all students. And although their environment was undeniably tough, they were exposed to relatively modern ways - heated housing, television and radio. The isolation and change of culture had a devastating effect on the young people and their families, whose lives were to change forever.
The educated children then returned to their families who still practised traditional ways of life, often still living in primitive yarangas or huts, and carrying out subsistence hunting or fishing. Not surprisingly, the children no longer fitted the lifestyle; the resulting clash of culture and alienisation between parents and children leading to widespread community breakdown and in many instances, to alcoholism.
As a widespread and unintended result, reindeer herds were left unattended and the local whalers and fishers gave up their livelihood to live on social benefits - and alcohol. Non-viable villages were declared abandoned by the government and left to rot. And they are all still there today. Sadly, Russia must claim an unwanted fame to more deserted buildings and rusting iron than any other country we have seen....
Over dinner the evening before, Victor had discussed at length the disturbing social problems suffered by the majority of indigenous Chukchis in Yanrakynnot. Originally from "the mainland", Victor had come to Yanrakynnot as the school Principal only about six months before. His wife was still "back in Russia" he told us. "Why Yanrakynnot?" we asked. "I just love children. These children need care and I am doing everything I can to help them", he replied. His eyes misted over as he told us that many of the children were fed and housed at the school because their parents were too sick with alcoholism to look after them. Without the school food and lodgings, and the care of the staff, it was unimaginable what would happen to these kids in such a remote and harsh environment.
Yuliya and Vadim were also from "the mainland". Like Victor, Yuliya also played an active role in looking after the children. While we were there she had received an urgent call to visit a very sick child with a raging temperature. Yuliya took the child to the village hospital and then organised a helicopter to take her to Provideniya. It was a tough life for everyone in Yanrakynnot. And both Victor and Yuliya were not judgmental; carefully explaining that the community of Yanrakynnot comprised fine people whose circumstances were beyond them. There was no doubting in our minds either that the Victors and Yuliyas of the world were good people too. Yes Yuliya, you are absolutely right....
Yanrakynnot was a terrible case study of a community that had completely collapsed. And it didn't help that funding had diminished for the school, the anchor for the survival of the village inhabitants. It was the passion of people like Victor and Yuliya that did give us some hope for the future of this tiny picturesque village.
A BETTER START TO THE DAY....
Things were certainly looking up. Not only did we have access to the school internet but we had eggs for breakfast! The former cook had not turned up (he was apparently on a two week drinking binge) and another young guy was cooking meals for the children. There was no talk of him cooking for us so we took matters into our own hands and much to his obvious displeasure, made our breakfast in the spacious school kitchen - carefully keeping well out of his way I might add.....
The once impressive stainless steel kitchen was in a state of disrepair. Only two of the six stove hotplates worked and even they were falling apart. But there was a series of bain marie, a big walk in refrigerator and a large bench freezer. It was such a shame to see so many appliances broken or not working that could be fixed so simply. But we certainly were not complaining. A hot breakfast was bliss.
The day was going well. To my delight, I had found our two lots of plastic sausages had incubated so much, they had gassed their packaging and were doomed for the garbage bin, as were the blown tubs of unrefrigerated yoghurt. Alex who was keen on the sausages, did not share my amusement....
It was understandable in such cold climates that the need for refrigeration is limited only to the very few warmer months. But it sure was necessary at this time of the year.
More distressing was that Alan's "long life" milk with a use by date of February 2015 had experienced a much longer life than recommended by its supplier, and when poured into our coffee was just a series of stormy clots. Needless to say, it suffered the same fate as the sausages. Similarly, the biscuits we bought at the general store were rancid but we kept them anyway as our supplies were so low - and goodness knows when or where we were to stock up next.
Things may have been on the improve but the day was not without some difficulties and near disasters. The first happened when Alan, standing on one foot to do his shoe laces up, over balanced and fell - right on my foot. Swollen and black and blue from bruising, I could barely put any weight on it for days to come. "Well, you should have kept out of my way" snarled my unsympathetic friend.
A Wild Morning Excursion on ATV Quad Bikes!
Victor, true to his word had organised for the two school guards Petra and Vladimir to take us out on their all-terrain vehicle (ATV) quad bikes. A sad reflection on the amount of petty alcohol related crime in Yanrakynnot, the two young guys were employed to guard the school for 24 hours per day. It was only then that we realised the damaged village housing and our room's broken windows were not due the severe climate, but were the result of local hooliganism.
The two quad bikes were very impressive, both upmarket 550 cc Chinese Linhai's. Alan was told he was to pillion on Petra's large bike. Meanwhile, Alex and I shared Vladimir's vehicle, with me having the luxury of a front passenger seat while poor Alex bounced around in the metal trailer behind.
On a bitterly cold and overcast morning, we set off in fine style. A real "petrol head" Petra "gunned" his bike and with Alan hanging on for dear life, roared ahead of us, up and through the village. As their bike skidded around a muddy bend, I took a deep breath as Alan and Petra got covered in thick black peaty spray. "Alan would be loving this" I thought grimly.... But from where I sat it did look very funny. This is the rough muskeg countryside and you can just see Alan in the distance! https://youtu.be/JO8OE7SuKRw
Vladimir was a much more sedate driver which was just as well for Alex as there was no suspension in the trailer and nothing for him to hang onto. Even in the front seat there were no handles to grip and it was very easy to become airborne as the ATV lurched its way through the thick black muskeg. Just taking photos was perilous, having to hold on with just one hand. You could certainly appreciate the need for ATV's, and even then we got bogged.
On the outskirts of the village we passed through endless piles of rubbish - rusting metal drums, pipes, old housing and obvious putrescibles. At times, the smell was enough to make you wretch. Vladimir told us on our return journey it was also the site for the dumping of raw sewage waste...
Later on, and when we thought carefully about the Russian Far East, it became obvious to us that there is no option for rubbish disposal. With the lack of roads, transport and infrastructure, it is out of the question to collect and pile up waste, let alone recycle. Even the cost of collecting and moving it into one spot would be prohibitive. But it sure didn't help the image of poor Yanrakynnot. It was a great pity to see such masses of rubbish in an otherwise exquisitely pretty, pristine setting.
The harsh rocky tundra country however was fascinating. There were no trees at all, just sodden peaty ground covered with gramineous grasses, reeds, sedges and masses of wispy white cotton weed; ghostly tresses blowing horizontal in the blasting gale force wind. Enduring permafrost, snow covered winters and devastating blizzards, these tiny deceptively delicate looking plants must be some of the hardiest species on earth.
By then, Alan and Petra were just specks on a barren horizon; razor sharp images silhouetted against a lonely black obelisk, a monument to Vice-Admiral Stepan Makarov. The climb to the monument was extraordinarily steep and it took all Vladimir's skills to "gun" the ATV enough to make it safely to the top of the almost vertical incline. To my surprise Alan was still smiling, obviously quite enjoying his newly found ATV adventures. I didn't bother to tell him the back of him was covered in thick greasy black mud.
Marakov's curious obelisk monument topped with a ship's bell, boasted stunning views out and over Yanrakynnot village and the Seniavina Strait. There are several monuments found across Russia that are dedicated to Marakov, but I am unable to find a reference as to the reason for the one erected at Yanrakyynot. Maybe there isn't one?
Born in 1848, Marakov was a highly accomplished and decorated commander of the Imperial Russian Navy. A brilliant and innovative naval architect, inventor, tactician and ship designer, he was also a pioneering Russian oceanographer. Marakov designed torpedo boats and some of the first mine-laying ships. He also designed and built the first icebreaker Ermak to explore the Arctic.
We wandered around the obelisk site finding several old graves, one which was recently adorned with a wreath of plastic flowers. "Whose grave is this?" we asked. No-one knew. But given its prominent site, it obviously belonged to a villager of some importance.
It was far too cold to stand around and soon we were off again to another look out; Alan and Petra flying at the rate of knots down the perilous incline. I was pleased I was with Vladimir but even still there were times when I thought we may either fall out of the ATV or tip the thing over.
It's hard to believe in a totally open environment of "sheer nothingness" that we could lose Petra and Alan. But we did. After some twenty minutes of looking for him across the wide expanse of unchartered territory where we had to make our own road through the muskeg quagmire, even the unflappable Vladimir was looking concerned.
Then at last in the far distance, we could just make out a tiny dot perched on a steep ridge. Here the terrain was mostly barren with just ground cover berry plants, mosses and lichens and mud; lots of it. As we flew toward the higher ground we swept over rough tile shaped schist making our journey extraordinarily rough and frigg'n uncomfortable, especially for Alex. But this was really wild country and despite the roughness, I was loving the experience
Alan didn't look quite so chipper this time. Stumbling painfully over the rough rocky terrain and looking somewhat pale, he hissed to me "God, I have nothing to hang on to. It's really hairy!". Yes, we could see that. And I think I heard Alex gently asking Petra if he could slow down his driving just a little.
The views at the top of the peak were spectacular, overlooking the wonderful curved Venetken Spit and lagoon, and out over the Seniavina Strait to the distant Arakamchechen Island. Alex, Vladimir and Petra walked right to the edge of the vertical escarpment which fell away toward the wild waters below. But with our sore feet we were having trouble even walking; the rocky terrain cruelly eating into the soles of our thin rubber boots and the gale force wind so strong it was almost blowing us horizontal. But what an experience!
Petra and Vladimir were really getting into things too. After all, a day off work to hoon around the wild surrounds would be great fun; much better than the monotony of guarding the school day and night. Would we like to visit the whale bones site, they asked. Of course! We were really getting into things too.
And we were off at the rate of knots yet again. And of course Petra overtook and once again we lost them from sight. But perhaps they were going marginally slower than before! Here they are overtaking us: https://youtu.be/3gWuaDrqoMs
The Yanrakynnot whale bones were nothing less than spectacular. Literally hundreds of bow head whale jaw bones, ribs and even vertebrae stood in silent rows along the shoreline; the very sight we had seen on our boat trip just the day before. But that unfortunate morning seemed like years ago. It felt like we had been in Yanrakynnot forever. Which is what "special places" do for you. I have no idea how to explain a sudden attachment to a city or a village, but for us it is a very real phenomenon; almost spiritual....
But back to the whale bones. I have searched the literature and as mentioned there is very little reference to Yanrakynnot, let alone it's very own "whale bone alley". We assumed that the bones were placed there in ancient times but as there were so many, we wondered whether locals were placing more there as they caught them. Vladimir and Petra didn't seem to know the historic significance of the bones either. We did see a stripped whale carcass on the beach as we drove back to the village, evidence that there are still some whaling families at Yanrakynnot.
We spent an hour or so fossicking around the site before being taken - at great speed of course - back to our school "hotel". But before we left the bones, Alex asked if there was some sort of cushion he could sit on. Sitting on the floor of the trailer must have been murder. We were highly amused when Vladimir just picked up a whale bone vertebrate section and tossed it in the trailer for Alex to sit on. How practical!
This time it was Alex and I who became "lost" as Vladimir took us a long way around the beach alongside the lagoon, before dropping us off. It had been a wonderful day, and we had thoroughly enjoyed our ATV adventures. Thanks to Victor, Vladimir and Petra our second day in Yanrakynnot had left lovely lasting memories for us. How lucky were we to find this tiny forgotten Chukchi settlement - and if only for just for a very short time, connect with the villagers?
Alex Rows Me to an Island OR A Near Nasty Incident....
Victor seemed as chuffed as we were to have enjoyed our morning so much. And it was good of him to organise it for us. We thanked him profusely.
"The cook has made some soup but I'm afraid it doesn't taste too good. But you are welcome to it. Oh, and you need to add salt!". Eggs for breakfast and soup for lunch? This was almost too much. Victor was right. The soup didn't taste like much but it was hot food and it sure beat dry bread and cheese. Oh, and we found a valuable salt supply....
Alex was restless. "Let's go for a boat ride across to the spit island.
There is a boat which Victor said we can use. And I'll row. I am an experienced rower. My dad is a fisherman in Anadyr you know". Alan declined, saying he had had enough adventures for the day. Against my better judgment, I gave in and went with Alex. After all, the channel looked calm and the island was just a short distance from the school.
The "boat" was in fact an inflatable rubber dinghy which to me looked a bit flaccid. "It will be fine. I'm used to rowing" Alex assured me. I agreed as long as he was prepared to do the rowing. There was a story where through my lack of rowing skills I nearly drowned Alan one dark winter night back home at a place called Shark Bay. It was a very near death incident (NDI) for Alan and one I didn't want to repeat. But that's another story a very long time ago.... I knew full well however that Alan would not have forgotten. "You two be very careful" he warned....
Heaving the dinghy into the water was quite an effort and the island was miles further across the channel than it looked. But the trip over was uneventful, with Alex doing a fine job of rowing.
The island was quite bizarre, with yet another series of whale bones and most surprisingly what looked like a soccer ground with a set of goal posts at the back of the bones. But it had a quiet serenity and great atmosphere. We sat and chatted happily as we watched a distant storm approach. It really was quite surreal.
Alex was good company and it was very pleasant to sit in the tundra grass amongst the whale bones, looking back to Arakamchechen Island and the famous Bering Strait; a place which was just a dream not long before. The storm was coming faster than we thought, with spears of jagged fork lightning piercing the ever darkening skyline. It was time to leave.
You would not be surprised that the row back didn't go quite to plan. The tide must have changed and a fierce current was flowing. Alex did everything he could to steer our little dinghy toward the school but in no time we were being washed hopelessly backwards and toward the mouth of the spit entry to the Bering Strait. With a herculean effort Alex managed to turn our boat toward the shore but the journey seemed to take forever with our boat going sideward more than forward. Even the confident Alex was looking concerned. Finally we made the trip, landing several hundred meters downstream from the school.
The climb back up the cliff to the school carrying our boat was arduous. And when we finally reached the school, Alex flopped to the ground exhausted.
Alan ran down to greet us. He had been watching through our window and was becoming really concerned as he saw us float dangerously close to being washed out to sea. His main concern was how he could get help. After all, he could not speak any Russian. I hadn't thought of that but surely he could have pointed to someone.... But I guess to whom? There was no-one at the school by then. Even Vladimir and Petra had disappeared.
Alex collapsed. I needed a vodka.
And Just to Cap Off an Eventful Day: Another NDI OR Sort of....
Yes, it had been just too good to have had a hot breakfast and lunch. Victor had left for the day and there was no food other than our stale bread and cheese. We were told eggs are quite a rarity at the general store and we wanted to keep them for breakfast, if we could.
Just before Alex and I left on our epic journey, I fortunately remembered seeing the grumpy cook place one of Vadim's fish into the bench freezer. I recalled it well as I was appalled (as an avid fishing woman) he had just thrown it head and all into a loose plastic bag with the tail exposed and hanging out. "I'm going to dig that fish out. It can't be totally frozen and I'll cook it for our dinner. I'm frigg'n starving and sick to death of stale bread" I asserted. Alex was horrified. It was not our fish he protested. I took no notice.
I was right. The big salmon was not completely frozen and I managed to thaw it totally in some warmish water. In no time, I had it filleted and dredged in flour. We found some of our Provideniya bought potatoes, carrots and cooking oil and voila - a decent hot meal.
But I was to be punished for my theft. As we finished the washing up, I put some of the left over fish in the walk-in refrigerator. Alan and Alex were about to make their way back to our room and were just leaving the kitchen. To my horror the door slammed shut. In the freezing pitch darkness I couldn't find any door handle and a terrible total panic set in.
Banging and screaming as hard as I could, there was no response from my friends. Anyone who knows Alan will know full well that he never worries about me - and thankfully so as I tend to do some rather late night fishing... It was probably only ten minutes or so that I was locked in but it was a truly horrible experience. I guess I would have been found an hour or so later if it hadn't been for Alex. Both he and Alan had thought my muffled shrieks were a child crying in another room. God help me....
Relieved to be set free, in the light I noticed there was an escape button on the inside of the door. But in the total darkness, how would anyone find it who didn't know? I must tell Victor I resolved. And have another vodka.... After all, tomorrow was another day and one which promised to be full of more adventures - our 80 kilometer trip through the open Arctic waters of the Bering Strait to Lorino.
2025-05-23