Lorino, Chukotka Autonomous Okrug, Russian FederationDAY 2 - A MOODY MORNING DAWNS
We woke to an overcast, moody morning; a strange mauve hue illuminating an otherwise benign pastel sky. In a centrally heated apartment in the centre of an Arctic town, it was surprisingly difficult to determine if the outside was warm, cold, freezing or even windy. There were none of the usual reference points or indicators; no flapping flags, swaying trees or even any wind blown grass to give any clues. Well - there was virtually no vegetation in the village...
We still had no idea as to when our journey to Cape Dezhnev may (or may not) happen. It was totally in the hands of the whale hunters. And although, we were in the dark about our itinerary for the next few days, we had faith that at least these highly skilled and experienced guys should know what they were doing. We would of course, have to trust their judgment.
Meanwhile, poor Alex was still receiving the most pessimistic phone calls not only from his father in Anadyr but also from his mother who was on business in Moscow. "They are telling me it is extremely dangerous. These seas can become treacherous in minutes. And there are fjords for kilometers along the coastline, making it impossible to moor and land if we have problems.... " he lamented.
The phone calls were obviously distressing. In the end we assured Alex we would totally understand if he decided to stay back at Lorino. It would not be the first time we would have stumbled through remote travel situations, not knowing the language. And we would feel better knowing that he was not under any danger due to what could well be a reckless decision to proceed to Dezhnev.
I didn't dare admit it, but after all the phone calls, I was thinking that staying back in Lorino with Alex was sounding like a pretty sensible option....
But again, there was no point in worrying. As we had to be in Lavrentiya on the Sunday for our (once per week) flight back to Anadyr, we only had another two days in which we could undertake the trip. And anything could happen weatherwise, couldn't it....?
After breakfast Mikhail dropped in for coffee, admitting to very much liking our coffee with its good dollop of сгущенка (sg-u-shonka)! On a more serious note, he advised that our trip to Cape Dezhnev was very likely to take place on one of the next two days when weather and sea conditions were predicted to be very calm.
"I'm afraid the trip will be challenging and very tiring for you. It's at least four hours one way and conditions could get very rough. The day after your trip, you will need to have a full day's rest. There will be no activities planned. Once again, I must tell you that this trip can be very dangerous. After all, the Bering Strait at Dezhnev is where the Arctic and Pacific Oceans converge. Temperature differentials can mean conditions can turn highly turbulent at any time.... Oh, and by the way for safety you will be travelling as a convoy. There will be at least two boats going."
Tiring? A full day's rest? Wouldn't we be sitting down in a boat? It sounded very reminiscent of the briefing we had from Beringia National Parks Director Vladimir B the day before we headed off on our voyage up the Bering Strait. The words were put more kindly, but the message was more ominous. Meanwhile, Alex was looking more than concerned.
Mikhail had spent a considerable amount of time in Lorino. In fact he actually lived there for some parts of the year and had developed a very close relationship with the community. And from our observations, he certainly had established a very good rapport with the local Chukchi whale hunters. An Anthropologist by profession, we are sure Mikhail would have found the village absolutely fascinating. He certainly appeared to love the life there.
Over coffee, Mikhail explained that the whale hunters met every morning to determine their hunting strategies for the next days. Interestingly, the gatherings were very well organised, tightly run, democratic affairs. Living may have been basic in Lorino but survival was a very sophisticated affair. And there was no doubting that the whale hunters, being the suppliers of virtually all the meat for the inhabitants of Lorino and some of the surrounding villages, were the most respected and wealthiest members of the community. And you could easily recognise their identity from their obvious pride, commanding manner, and even their assertive body language.
For us mere observers, two men in particular stood out as community leaders: a man called Aleksey Ottoy and another man we knew only as Edward. Alexei was reserved and detached, bearing a distinct air of "don't mess around with me". He was in fact quite formidable. Whereas it was the younger flashy Edward who drove fast up-market ATV's and who was always seen with wrap around designer sunglasses. There was no doubting that
Alexei was the senior leader and although we could not ascertain Edward's role, it appeared that he could have been a "deputy" to Aleksey. Similarly, Edward's sons were strong looking adolescent boys who also seemed to assert themselves as potential leaders. It was all very interesting to observe.
We wondered how these community leaders worked in with local government authorities. And how did they co-operate with the Beringia National Parks personnel with respect to any tensions with hunting versus the park's conservation scheme? We were to observe a little of this interaction that day. But our observations were certainly inconclusive... And to this day, we still have no real idea other than an educated guess as to who "rules the roost"....
A TRIP TO MECHIGMEN
Across the Calm, Glassy Waters of Mechigmen Bay
Well, one thing was clear that morning. We were not going to Dezhnev. Instead to our somewhat disappointment Alex informed us that Andrey was taking us to the abandoned remains of Mechigmen, an ancient whaling village on the other side of Mechigmen Bay. I must say we were not overly keen to don cold weather gear again - or to travel anywhere other than Dezhnev by boat. We were well and truly over trying to clamber aboard small vessels and well, just boats in general.... A quiet scenic drive and a picnic would have suited us better. But there was no point in complaining. Oh, and there were virtually no roads to drive around Lorino on anyway...
Andrey's tiny 3 meter aluminium boat was still moored on the gravel beach of Mechigmen Spit where it was left on that sombre dark evening we first arrived on the shores of Lorino. Now in the daylight, we could see more of the elegant, long narrow spit and a number of small fishers' shacks along the lonely shoreline. For some reason I was reminded of the bathers' huts at Brighton in the UK. I thought with amusement about my friend Jo's comments about the Rumilet Bay Resort "That sure ain't no resort, dude". Yes, like the Resort "it sure weren't no Brighton Beach"!
Mechigmen Bay however, had its own ambiance; a definite remote beauty and a huge feeling of space. The solitude was breathtaking. It was hard to imagine that we were in fact on the shores of the famous Bering Strait, and indeed the Arctic Ocean.
Just before we set off, we noticed a jacket and what looked (to me) like a casing of a musical instrument left on the gravelly sand. "Andrey, what's that you've left behind?" I called out. "Oh, it's my shot gun" he replied. A good thing we weren't in charge. We didn't even bring any lunch, let alone think about having to take a shot gun. I guess Australians are just not used to thinking about bears. Or shot guns for that matter....
At last packed and ready to go, we somehow clambered aboard. I hoped no-one was watching as I floundered onto the bow like a beached walrus..... As Andrey gunned his little boat, I looked back to the lonely shores; Lorino disappearing into the distance. There were no other settlements in sight, just a few derelict shacks. It seemed odd there were no trees and even stranger, nor any signs of life.
Once again, I had pride of place in the front of our boat next to Andrey. He really was a lovely man; polite, thoughtful and considerate. And even though we didn't understand a lot of what was said, he was really quite a funny person. Alex, who had been kindly helping with my Russian language skills said "OK, let's practice some Russian. Wendy, ask Andrey how he is". Taking a deep breath I said in my best Russian "как у тея дела" - pronounced something "kark-u-teya-dela" or simply "how are you" but in a slightly formal tone. To my disappointment Andrey simply answered "OK". "Bugger" I thought. "How am I ever going to converse in Russian when people always answer in English?". Even at the shop the evening before, when I tried to say how much sliced meat we wanted to buy, the young woman at the counter said "Oh, about five hundred grams?".
My other bit of learning was how to wear a warm hat when you are out to sea without it slipping over your face. My woolly one annoyingly kept flopping down over my eyes. Looking at Andrey, I noticed he had placed his beanie over the top of his cap, the peak acting as a "shelf" to stop the beanie from falling down and of course acting as a sun visor. So simple....
As we sped across the glassy bay, we chatted animatedly. Perhaps going out on Andrey's boat was not such a bad decision after all. I turned to see Alex and Alan looking happy and relaxed in the back of the boat. At least we were not forging waves this day. I had given up speaking my pathetic Russian and tentatively asked Andrey what the trip to Cape Dezhnev was like. After all, I assumed he would be coming with us, perhaps even driving one of the boats. "I don't know. I've never been there." he answered in perfect English. Rocked to the core, I wondered again about the recklessness of undertaking this crazy trip. After all, Andrey was born, bred and had spent all his life in Lorino. And he came from a long ancestry of Lorino dwellers. And if he had never been there, what the hell were we doing? I was pleased Alan and Alex had not heard the conversation.
A Colony of Walrus
After about forty minutes travel we came across to the other side of Mechigmen Bay, nearing the site of the ancient village of Mechigmen. As we approached the shoreline, Andrey slowed our boat down, signaling us to stop talking. In front was a large colony of enormous male walrus sunning themselves on the gravel beach. Fortunately, as our little boat glided imperceptively across the smooth water, the walrus did not seem to even notice our presense.
It was an astounding sight to be so close yet not disturb these magnificent animals. I remember Andrey was so careful not to cause any disruption which might cause a "stampede alarm" and harm the smaller animals, that he would not even let us talk. Thanks to his patience, we did get some good photos even though we were quite a respectable distance away. Eventually, these big creatures saw us and sprayed into the air forming a protective steam screen, so effective we could barely see them. Finally they lunged into the calm waters of Mechigmen Bay, some even swimming quite close to our boat. And despite their massive clumsy bodies, they were highly accomplished swimmers.
The Ancient Site of Mechigmen - Spotting The Hunters
Some fifteen minutes later we sighted a ramshackle Beringia Parks hut on the far shores of the Mechigmen Spit, home to the former village of Mechigmen. Andrey moored our little boat and somehow we all clambered off onto the beach, as usual my inadequately short boots filling up with water.
Andrey was completely distracted. Standing on the bow of his boat, he aimed his binoculars into the far distance. "He can see hunters." whispered Alex. And on the horizon, we could just make out a line of around twelve men, all armed with large shot guns. Andrey determinedly marched to the hut, and unlocking it dragged out a ladder so that he could climb up and onto the roof for a better view. "What would they be hunting on land?" we wondered?
Andrey, at last satisfied with his sighting, silently beckoned us to follow him through long grass and toward the site of the remains of Mechigmen village. It was a bit hard not to notice he had his large long range shot gun strapped to his shoulders. But there was no explanation about the hunters; who they were and what they were doing. I wondered why Andrey had his gun. We assumed it was for protection against bears. But it was not a good feel to be in the vicinity of the armed hunters who may not know we were there. All we could tell was that our journey to Mechigmen was no joke. Andrey was deadly serious, stopping every few meters to survey the scene around us.
The Whale Bone Remains of Mechigmen
It was not all that easy to find the remains of Mechigmen in the low shrubs and surprisingly lush tall grass of the flat, marshy spit. There was seemingly no defined pathway, and it was very easy to bog in the peaty muskeg.
Following Andrey for about two hundred meters inland from the Beringia Hut, we came across some tall whale bone relics, each buried vertically into the ground and very reminiscent of what we had witnessed at Whale Bone Alley on Yttygran Island and Yanrakynnot some days before. Some particularly noticeable bones contained curious carved square holes at the very top of their post-like structures. We also observed a number of depressions topped by umbrella-like rib bone structures. Like Yttygran and Yanrakynnot, the ground was littered with the skulls and jawbones of both bow head and grey wales.
As we drew closer, Andrey told us about the nature of the village remains, pointing out that the bone covered depressions were the remains of the ancient subterranean houses; the rib bones forming the support for sod covered skin "roofs". After all, there is no wood in the tundra, except that which washes up on the shores. He also drew our attention to the ubiquitous meat storage pits. Andrey further explained that the vertical whales’ bones with the square holes were used to support beams which once held the walrus skin boats of the whale hunters.
The Masigmit People and the Ancient Village of Masik
One interesting school of thought is that the whale bone sites at Yttygran, Yanrakynnot and a number of other locations along the waterways of the Senyavin and Bering Straits were built by a discrete indigenous group of people known loosely as the "Masigmit"; their alleged homeland being the village of "Masik" (now known as Mechigmen), on the very shores of Mechimegmen Bay1.
1 Chlenov et al,"Whale Alley - A Site on the Chukchi Peninsular, Siberia", Penn Museum, Pennsylvania University (1984)
According to Chlenov's paper, anecdotal evidence from recordings of (the then) present-day Eskimos of the area who retained the memory of these people, suggested that it was the Masigmit who over the centuries, erected the bones and skulls in special formations at various sites along the coastline. The tribe apparently eventually merged with the Eskimo communities of the of the northern sides of the peninsular.
The ancient settlement of Masik is thought to have stretched for more than one kilometer from the south-west to the north-east, in large ovoid formations along the direction of the spit which fringed the shores of now dry interior lakes. Although largely inconclusive, it is thought that the settlers were accomplished whale hunters who had a rich ritual tradition, which included the custom of setting into the ground pairs and double pairs of whale skulls. It was also observed that unlike other sites, Masik contained a relatively large proportion of grey whale skulls and bones.
Chlenov also made reference to the sighting of seven large subterranean "houses". According to Chlenov, the average diameter of the "houses" was about eight meters and were thought to be special "men's houses" (also known in Eskimo communities as "karigis", communal or men's houses). It made good sense. The houses would have a considerable degree of insulation from the soil, out of the wind and weather and would also be well camouflaged. But where did the women live, I wondered?
The site apparently was occupied full time until the end of the 19th century, and was finally closed by authorities in the 1950's.
Mrs Gynon's Reindeer Burgers
As an afterthought, Alex had taken some food with us but it was pretty meagre and we were sure getting sick of stale bread and cheese. Andrey in true form pulled a "picnic table" out of the Beringia hut, found some rocks to sit on and generously offered us some bread rolls and some sort of meat burgers that his wife had kindly made for us. They were moist, spicy and simply delicious. It was unexpected but we were very appreciative, and thoroughly enjoyed our lunch.
A volley of shots stopped Andrey in his tracks. And it certainly stopped us eating. Concerned he again climbed up onto the roof of the hut peering through his binoculars. "The hunters are shooting walrus" said Alex quietly. He knew we were animal tragics and that the news would upset us. Which it did. And try as we might to accept that killing these lovely animals for the village meat supply was totally justifiable, it certainly put an end to enjoying our lunch - which of course was reindeer meat.... And the shots went on and on. Andrey just looked resigned.
After lunch Alex decided to collect some berries for our "dessert", showing us how to identify the black shushke, cloud berries and blue berries, and how to avoid the poisonous red wolf berries which formed charming oval carpets of brilliant red foliage. He even found some wild peas and some small mushrooms he called "foxes". Alex said he found the berries absolutely delicious. An accomplished berry picker, he managed to provide us with a heap of berries as well as eat an astonishing amount himself in a very short space of time. We laughed, saying that the Chukchis were obviously very short of decent food to enjoy some thing as bland as shushke and blue berries. And it was probably true too....
Interestingly, even though it was mid-summer, already the tundra vegetation was showing signs of its winter preparation. Foliage was turning colourful tones of vibrant reds, yellows and orange and surprisingly some plants were beginning to drop leaves. You forget how severe the long cold months are in Chukotka. As we searched for berries, playful ground squirrels darted in front of us. If it wasn't for the constant gunfire, it would have been a very pleasant afternoon.
In Search of Bald Face, Big Eared Bears
The rest of our afternoon was spent motoring around the islands and lovely coastline of Mechigmen Bay. Andrey was especially keen for us to sight some bears, in particular some he described as being genetically different from other bears in the region, in that they had strange bald faces and especially large ears. But try as hard as he did, we did not see any bears at all. There were however plenty of cheeky seals and of course an abundant amount of sea birds.
It didn't matter anyway. We were enjoying a lazy day on the beautiful calm waters of Mechigmen Bay. In the late afternoon storms loomed on the horizon, the last rays of brilliant sunlight piercing a darkened, ominous cloud filled sky, illuminating the steep cliffs of the shoreline. It was truly sublime....
Motoring "home" to Lorino, we came across a young couple with a team of twelve Siberian Huskies pulling their sled along the shoreline. The friendly couple waved to us before allowing their dogs to wade into the water and drink from the bay. And then they were off at a great pace along the gravel beach and into the distance. It was an amazing sight and a wonderful way to end our day trip. Here is the dog team: https://youtu.be/PGVb0SwduCg
Despite our initial apprehensions, we had really enjoyed our day. On our arrival back at our apartment, we found that Lena had cooked the salmon and some vegetables all ready for our dinner. Alex enjoyed an evening with his Chukchi friends and we enjoyed a very quiet night. It had been a good day. Unless you were a walrus, that is....
2025-05-23