Yuryung-Khaya, Sakha Republic, Russian FederationTo the Tundra by Tank Truck: The Journey Not the Reindeer?
By the end of the previous day, Ed had organised our "surprise" tank expedition across the tundra to view two reindeer herds. It was not something either of us had expected we would want to do. After all, it was just to visit and watch some reindeer.... But Ed had convinced us that it would be a fabulous experience. And so far, despite some initial doubts on our part, he had been absolutely right about everything he had suggested for our trip. One thing, we were sure of - we would love the experience of travelling through the tundra. And perhaps once again, it may be the journey and not the destination. Or rather the reindeer herd in this case. How wrong we were....
There was however, just a minor problem. How would we pay for the journey as we were not carrying with us 60,000 rubles (around USD 800) in cash? There were of course no banks and we didn't bother asking the bleeding obvious. Of course, the tank driver wouldn't have the facilities for taking credit cards.... Ed kindly offered to loan us the money which he would transfer when he returned to Yakutsk.
But that was nearly two weeks away. By sheer fortune, Alan suddenly remembered he had a few thousand US dollars stored away in one of his bags. As you do... Would they suffice, asked Alan? No problem. This may seem a rather trite matter to mention but it is just one of the issues that can arise when you are stationed some 800 km north of the Russian Arctic Circle!
There was yet another potential problem; that of poor weather conditions. And there was as Ed said, every chance of the trip being cancelled if the weather was as bad as forecast. By then of course, we were itching to take on the expedition....
A Frightful Morning Dawns
We awoke early to a howling gale and flurrying snow. Visibility looked to be no more than 100 meters from the house. It was not quite a blizzard but from our experiences in Chukotka, it looked bad enough to have our journey cancelled. And disappointingly, it was apparently the only day during our short visit that the tank and its crew were available.
Ed, Roma and Katya however carried on as if everything was going to plan; Katya making us a good hot breakfast of freshly made pancakes, goulash, potatoes and pasta while Roma organised times for the driver to pick us up.
It seemed best for us not to even mention the obvious about the seemingly frightful weather conditions.
Alan and I are hopeless at eating very early in the morning. But this time, Ed would have none of our protestations, insisting on us eating a really substantial breakfast. "We will be out in the wilds of the tundra all day. There is no guarantee that we will be home until late in the afternoon, perhaps evening. And if anything goes wrong, it will be essential that you have started out with a full stomach" he asserted. If anything goes wrong? Looking out of the window I tried hard not to think about his words. After all, what could go wrong travelling in a Russian tank for goodness sake? Luckily, I adore Russian pancakes so I stuffed as many as I possibly could into myself before we left the kitchen. Alan did the same.
Getting dressed was yet another matter with Ed insisting that we wear "everything we had". The tank would be warm but we would probably be spending a long time out of the vehicle taking photos in temperatures that could drop to a bone chilling (or rather, bone killing) minus 60 C.
At the best of times, dressing in all our layers of Arctic gear was a nightmare. But on a full stomach it was sheer misery. Zips refused to do up, I lost one of my thermal mittens and couldn't find my ushanka. Alan was finding getting into his overcoat totally impossible.
There were lots of furious and unmentionable words until he realised it was indeed my coat and not his. Just a bit of a difference in size....
Stumbling to the doorway of the Tuprin house, we must have looked like astronaut nerds from another planet; our layers of two lots of extreme upper and lower thermals, padded trousers, fleecy tops, balaclavas, ushankas, scarves, two overcoats as well as our clutsy heavy snow boots, making it almost impossible to walk. Needless to say, things were at the least, "a bit tetchy".
Meanwhile Ed looked on patiently with that slightly bemused look we used to give our fumbling, fragile older relatives. Until of course, we became them ourselves....
Our Tank Trip Begins!
We had no idea what to expect of our hired State Reindeer Farm tank. I must admit, I was really expecting some sort of military vehicle with limited seat capacity and poor viewing. And after seeing the lack of windows in some of the heavy transport used in Kamchatka and experiencing the pathetic old windowless Trekol we had hired in Bilibino, I wondered about our chances of taking good photos en route to the reindeer. Our concerns were thankfully unfounded, and we were quite delighted when our impressive, sturdy yellow vehicle arrived.
With its massive caterpillar tracks and tri-segmented body, the mighty beast reminded me somewhat of a giant arthropod. The tank, or rather tank-truck, comprised a dual passenger compartment in the front, a central section presumably used as sleeping quarters and a huge covered carrying capacity in the rear - probably we guessed for transporting equipment and reindeer carcasses. Best of all, the front windscreen was the full width of the compartment.
Driver Nikolay, Roma's brother Ivan and another young man Igor were to join us for the day. I must say we were a bit surprised there were so many of us but as Ed explained, we would need the two non-drivers as pilots to help guide Nikolay through the roadless tundra. And we were soon to find out why. It was all sounding like the most extraordinary adventure; something that could be well out of "The Dangerous Book for Older Travellers' Yearbook".
Very soon we were off on our expedition, following the misty roads through the little village of Yuryung-Khaya. In no time, we reached the outskirts of the settlement and the beginning of the wilds of the vast tundra. A light snow powdered our vision.
At Alan's insistence, I sat in the front next to Ivan and driver Nikolay, while Alan, Ed and Igor sat in the rear compartment. This was the trip of a lifetime and there was no way we were going to miss out on taking the best photos possible for our blog. And although we were tightly packed in, the tank was warm and comfortable; while outside temperatures hovered around minus 30 C.
And very soon, there was nothing; no dwellings, no roads, no trees, no vegetation of any kind at all. And certainly no vehicles. Or reindeers come to that.... Just sheets of snow-covered, featureless flat plains; a bleak lunarscape where there are no shadows and where land, horizon and sky become seamlessly blended as one.
Meanwhile, Ivan and Nikolay were concentrating hard on finding their way to our first reindeer herd. A virtual white-out, it must have been extremely difficult to navigate our massive unwieldy tank.
The countryside was not all flat. In several instances because of the virtual lack of vision, Nikolay had to stop the vehicle to allow Ivan or Igor to alight and test the ground in front of us. Not only were we driving over roadless lands, we were also traversing frozen lakes and muskeg. And it was vital that the going in front was stable enough to take our tank. In a land of total whiteness with no definition nor any land marks to use as reference points, it was even to us passengers, very disorientating.
A Word About the Tundra
During our journey north, we had travelled through a diversity of Arctic biomes; the taiga (forest), the taiga-tundra or tree-line (stunted, sparse forest transition zone) and now the treeless tundra (refer entry "To Saskylakh: Cruis'n up the Frozen Anabar River" http://v2.travelark.org/travel-blog-entry/crowdywendy/13/1598759776).
The tundra (a word derived from the Saami* language meaning "treeless") defines a zone where vegetative growth is limited by extremes of low temperature and short growing seasons.
*The Saami are an indigenous group from northern Scandinavia and far north-western Russia.
Tundra refers to those regions where the subsoil is entirely permafrost. The soil is frozen from 25 to 90 cm in depth, making it impossible for tree growth. Even the sturdy, well adapted Larch species are unable to sustain life in the tundra. Typically, the tundra vegetation comprises dwarf shrubs, sedges and grasses, mosses and lichens. Animal life includes reindeer, musk ox, Arctic hare, Arctic fox, snowy owl, lemmings and closer toward the coast, polar bears. Interestingly, while the biodiversity of plant and animal life is low, the amount of wildlife is surprisingly high.
In Russia, the tundra occupies about 10% of the total land mass, extending from the Finnish border in the far west to the Bering Coast and northern Kamchatka in the far east of the country. Here the landscape is stark and frozen for much of the year; typically featuring large areas of bare ground and rocky outcrops. Unlike other biomes such as the taiga, the Arctic tundra is defined more by its low summer temperatures than by its low winter extremes. For example, far lower temperature extremes are found in the taiga forests of areas well south of the Russian tundra.
Another constant feature shaping the tundra is the alternate freezing and thawing of the ground. Permafrost retards downward movement of water through the soil, and consequently the lower lands of the tundra become saturated and boggy (muskeg) during the summer thaws. In other instances, large areas of lakes form; in some regions the lacy environment being almost more lake than land. Conversely, precipitation tends to be very low, almost desert-like** with only 150 to 250 mm (6 to 10 inches) of rain per year. Although the rainfall is low, evaporation however is minimal, further enhancing the retention of bogs, marshes and lakes.
**Note: Despite the very low precipitation, the tundra is distinct from the biome of the Arctic (Polar) Desert which exists even further north, at latitudes higher than 75 degrees N. Here the environment is permanently capped by thick ice cover. Arctic Deserts, unlike the tundra, cannot support plant or animal life, although certain micro-organisms related to cyanobacteria have been found.
A major threat to the tundra is global warming, causing the permafrost to melt. About one third of the world's soil-bound carbon lies in the taiga and tundra regions. And when permafrost melting occurs, it releases carbon in the form of carbon monoxide and methane, two important greenhouse gases.
Interestingly, Roma had told us about what he described as clear evidence of global warming in the Anabar Ulus with permafrost melts and the introduction of bird life such as crows, who formerly were never found as far north as Yuryung-Khaya. It was certainly not the first time we had heard of global warming concerns during our travels in Arctic Russia.
Viktor's Camp
After around 40 minutes of difficult driving through a thick opaque fog, dark flecks barely visible on the horizon revealed our first reindeer herd.
As we came closer, the animals did not appear to be fearful of our vehicle, cantering along ahead of us and thoughtfully taking us to reindeer herder Viktor's camp. It was our first sighting of an Arctic reindeer herd and we were surprised at just how thrilling a moment it was. It was very special.
The small herd stayed tightly together, all looking like adults and in varying forms of average to poor condition. Many looked to have just shed their antlers. A howling wind blew. Flurries of snow were almost blinding. There was no shelter of any form, anywhere. Goodness knows how any animal could survive these conditions. In the far milky distance we could just make out some tiny dwellings - Viktor's camp.
Viktor like Roma, worked for the State Reindeer Farm. His camp was basic. Very basic. Comprising just one small balok, a couple of low tents, a few sleds and a pile of frozen gutted reindeer carcasses, it was not the most salubrious nor comfortable of surrounds.
Herder Viktor was not a young man but he certainly must have been tough. Like the reindeers, it was difficult to imagine how even on a short-term basis, a person survived these exposed, frigid conditions, let alone the sheer isolation. And from what we could see, Viktor lived alone in his camp.
For animal tragics, the sight of so many dead reindeer bodies was pretty confronting. It didn't however, seem to have much impact on the live reindeer who wandered calmly about the camp seemingly ignoring their slaughtered relatives.
Conditions were icy and heavy snow shrouded our views of the reindeer and camp. Viktor however was welcoming, posing for photo shots and quite happy for us to look inside and photograph his balok. A tiny humble abode, it comprised only a pullout mattress, a small table and chairs and of course a fuel heater. There was a primitive radio but we saw no other forms of communication. There was certainly no television! One would assume he was equipped with at least a satellite phone...
We did not have the opportunity to mix with the reindeer, most of whom had wandered off some distance from the camp. There was obviously business going on between our tank crew and Viktor and from the conversations it appeared we would be returning to the camp on our journey back to Yuryung-Khaya.
Finding the Elusive Second Herd: A Long and Arduous Journey
Conditions were worsening. The wind was becoming gale force and as far as we could see, there was virtually no visibility. We guessed Nikolay was driving according to satellite co-ordinates but how that was working in such a complete white-out was beyond us.
Meanwhile poor Ivan and Igor were spending a lot of time on foot outside trying their best to navigate suitable routes for our tank. So many times, we had to turn back due to impossible terrain. But Nikolay was determined to test every possible option. By now, we were entering steep areas with V-shaped valleys and dangerous escarpments. At this stage, Igor and Ivan's job was to ensure we didn't encounter any unseen cliff faces where even our sturdy tank could come to grief.
At one particularly steep incline, the tank actually bogged in a deep slurry of ice. Nikolay reversed several times, then revved the vehicle trying to force our way up what appeared to be an almost vertical slope. At one stage the tank lurched terrifyingly to one side. We must have begun to look concerned. And justifiably so. "These tanks can't turn over. It's just impossible!" asserted a not-so-reassuring Ed. Our non-reply was a dead giveaway that we weren't quite so sure....
After several attempts, Nikolay gave up on the incline and instead forged our tank into an adjacent steep gully. Alan and I said nothing but it was seemingly crazy trying quite this hard and engaging in what appeared to be becoming reckless driving, just to find the reindeer. Meanwhile, Ed chatted animatedly, in an effort I'm sure to keep us distracted.
By then we had been travelling for another hour and still there was no sighting of the reindeer. I had even begun to feel a bit guilty thinking that perhaps we had "forced" these herder guys out into the tundra wilds in an attempt to provide us with a viewing of the herds.
But by this time however, it was not difficult to realise that this was no mere tourist ride, nor reckless "hooning" on the part of our team. It was of course, necessary and deadly serious business to check on the herd. And all part of the day-to-day lives of the State Reindeer Farm staff....
Sighting of the Second Reindeer Herd
After another hour of tough driving, there was still no sighting of the herd. Nor may I add, any signs of life, trails or animal footprints. By this stage, I did wonder whether we would ever find them.
Nikolay and Ivan suddenly leant forward, pointing into the distance. And there they were. The stunning sight of some 3,000 reindeer, spread out over at least a kilometer of the tundra wilds. It is really very difficult to describe our feelings at sighting such an enormous herd. In the stark surrounds without a horizon nor even any shadows, they appeared as a monochrome etching almost floating in the white tundra light. It was, we would have to admit, quite an emotional experience.
Instead of being fearful, the reindeer were amazingly inquisitive and friendly. For animals left to their own devices for such long periods of time, they actually seemed very pleased to see us. And especially so, when we had to relieve ourselves. Much to our shock, the reindeer delighted in eating our frozen urine; giving away any semblance of what we had thought was a private moment! Ed was quick to explain that the reindeer are salt depleted and any form of salt, even frozen pee, was very attractive to them. Here is a BBC video of what I mean! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_VH8tFDd7g
Like Viktor's herd, many of the males had, or were shedding antlers; bloody holes on their foreheads testament to a recent loss. Most of the animals were tagged and all of them were itching for a scratch and being petted. We noted that they all seemed in pretty good condition and quite a deal healthier than those we had observed in the first herd. Here is a video of the friendly herd: https://youtu.be/gu6h7MkVED0
One large stag was very friendly, posing for photographs and insisting on being taken notice of. As you can see, he appears in most photos Ed took of us!
Nikolay caught one animal. I must say the young reindeer was not too keen on being restrained but he quickly relaxed and allowed us to photograph him. I must say he does however, look a bit bewildered in the photo.... The reindeer are not exactly wild, being subject to regular counts and being tagged and inoculated against anthrax on a yearly basis. We certainly kept well away from asking any details about slaughtering.
We were really lucky. It was cold but not really bitter. Conditions had calmed and we must have spent over an hour with the herd. To our surprise, we were loving every minute. Even the skeptical Alan....
Introducing the Reindeer
Reindeer (Rangifer tarandus), known as Caribou in North America, are a species of deer which are circumpolar in distribution throughout the Arctic, sub-Arctic tundra, taiga and mountainous regions of northern Europe, Siberia and North America. These hardy creatures have developed unique and fascinating adaptations to cope with their extreme environment.
It is not uncommon for the social reindeer to form huge "super-herds", feeding and moving together following food sources, and travelling south some thousands of kilometers when food is scarce in the winter season. The Taymyr Peninsula adjacent to Anabar Ulus, is home to the largest herd of migrating reindeer in the world, with numbers estimated up to one million.
Reindeer are unique in that they are totally covered in fur from their nose to the soles of their feet, enabling them to forage through snow for lichen and mosses, and also for their hooves to gain a good grip on frozen ground, ice, mud and snow.
Their specialised nose fur covering and increased blood vessels also help to warm incoming cold air before it reaches their lungs. And for this reason, some reindeer really do have red noses!
Reindeer also possess an acute sense of smell, helping them to find food hidden under snow, sense danger and recognise location. For this reason, they always try to travel against the wind.
Their larger crescent-shaped cloven hooves compared with deer or moose, can splay out to enable them to travel readily through bogs, mud or deep snow. Reindeer hooves also adapt to the season. In summer when the ground is soft and wet, their footpads become spongey and provide extra traction. In winter the pads shrink and tighten, exposing the rim of the hoof which cuts into the ice and crusted snow to prevent the animal from slipping. It also allows then to dig down (an activity known as cratering) through snow to obtain lichen.
Reindeer eat mosses, ferns, grasses and shoots of shrubs. In winter lichens and fungi are their main source of food. An average adult consumes around four to eight kilos of vegetation per day. Reindeer are also well known for having a liking for hallucinogenic fungi such as the mushroom-like Amanita muscaria. While inducing unusual behaviours, unlike human consumption, the mushrooms are not toxic to the species. Interestingly, reindeer herders have long collected reindeer urine as a safer way of consuming the mushroom hallucinogen. A totally understandable addiction for both reindeer and humans during an Arctic winter....
Reindeer pelt has two layers of fur: a dense woolly undercoat and a longer haired overcoat consisting of hollow air-filled follicles; trapped air between and also inside the hair providing exceptional insulation. For this reason, reindeer are known to swim high rather like floating out of water; their coat acting as a kind of supporting "life- jacket".
Reindeer are the masters of heat exchange, a highly efficient means of minimising heat loss through the skin's surface. Their body heat in being recycled rather than lost, means that their hearts do not have to pump as rapidly to maintain a constant body core temperature and hence metabolic rate. Similar mechanisms are found in other cold living animals such as fox and moose.
Reindeer eyes change colour from green in summer to deep blue in winter. Due to the extremely limited light in the far northern winter, reindeer eyes need to be far more sensitive to light in winter than in summer; the blue colour in the darkest months helping them scatter more incoming light and hence enabling better vision.
Reindeer is the only cervid (hoofed) species in which the females can grow antlers as well as the males. Antlers are shed in early to mid-winter for males, and after calving for females. They begin to grow again on males in March to April, whereas the females re-grow theirs in May to June. Antlered females tend to acquire the highest ranks in feeding hierarchy, gaining access to the best forage areas. Not surprisingly, they are healthier than non-antlered females, and have healthier calves.
Another fascinating fact about reindeer adaptation is their ability to make clicking sounds as they walk. The sounds originate from tendons snapping over sesamoid bones in their hooves and may be audible from ten meters away. The phenomenon is apparently an adaptation for non-vocal acoustic communication and thought to be a mechanism to help keep herds in contact, especially during snow storms and blizzards.
Reindeer are the only known deer species to be domesticated. They are used as beasts of burden (in the case of the Dolgan people for riding and for pulling sledges) as well as being farmed for their milk, meat and hides.
In Yuryung-Khaya, most meat is transported south to the diamond mining population. Any surplus is sent to Saskylakh or used for the Dolgan people's own consumption.
Personal Encounters with a Special Reindeer
Fictional Santa Claus
Until we travelled to Chukotka in winter, neither Alan nor I had any experience with reindeer. Well, that is with the exception as children with the notion of the much-famed fictional Santa Claus and his team of eight reindeer, of which Rudolph was of course the starred leader.
Interestingly, Santa's reindeer were first mentioned in 1821 when New York printer William Gilley published a 16-page booklet "A New Year's Present to the Little Ones from Five to Twelve" written by an anonymous author:
"Old Santa Claus with much delight
His reindeer drives this frosty night.
O'er chimney tops, and tracks of snow,
To bring his yearly gifts to you."
His reindeer drives this frosty night.
O'er chimney tops, and tracks of snow,
To bring his yearly gifts to you."
Two years later, in 1823, the Troy Sentinal published the well-known poem A Visit from St Nicholas, more commonly known as "Twas the Night Before Christmas"; the poem featuring eight flying reindeer pulling Santa's sleigh. More than 100 years later, Rudolph was named and became a legend.
Poor Rudolph however, was misnamed. The animal must have been female as at Christmas time the females would be the only reindeer to have antlers. Rudolphina?
Yashka, the Orphaned Reindeer from Chukotka
I expect it does sound somewhat unusual that we met and fell in love with a pet reindeer on our first visit to Pevek, Chukotka in the winter of 2018. After all, reindeer are used either as beasts of burden or as a food source. But not Yashka. He was family. (Refer "Stranded in Pevek: A Reindeer Called Yashka" http://v2.travelark.org/travel-blog-entry/crowdywendy/9/1532595652)
One snowy afternoon during our visit, gregarious local travel guide Igor Ranav took us out to his base camp out of town for lunch and an afternoon of snowmobiling. Here we had the fortune of not only meeting his wife Tatiana and friend Vladimir, but also his beloved Siberian Huskies and an engaging young reindeer called Yashka.
An orphan, the baby
Yashka was raised on a bottle by the eccentric couple and had lived all his life with
their dogs in a garage in their apartment block. Yes, a reindeer living in an
apartment! Yashka, not
surprisingly, thought he was a dog and behaved accordingly. And Yashka, like all modern kids, had his own hip circle of friends and of course, a plasma TV!
It was hard not to fall in love with this comical, little reindeer. And since then we have remained good friends with Igor and Tatiana. And of course, Yashka.
During our next visit to Chukotka just five months after, we were to re-unite with Yashka who by then had his adult antlers and while still adorable, wasn't quite so cuddly.
Sadly, in 2019 Yashka was accidentally killed in a road accident. Igor and Tatiana were understandably devastated. As were we. It had been a wonderful experience.
Back on the "Road" Again....
We were sorry to be leaving our friendly herd. They had a lot more Arctic winter to endure and we hoped they made it safely. It was hard to imagine how a single reindeer could forage enough moss and lichen in the winter months to sustain its health.
By then we had been travelling by tank for around three hours. It is not possible to work out how far we travelled as because of the difficult terrain, we had constantly reversed and re-tracked our route. But it must have been around 100 km or so.
Late in the afternoon on our return to Yuryung-Khaya, we re-visited Viktor's camp, only an hour's drive from where the main herd was located. Here the team collected the pile of frozen reindeer carcasses we had seen on our forward journey. It was certainly heavy, hard and dirty work. Meanwhile, poor weather had again set in, making for arduous work in a cruel, bitterly cold, gale-force wind.
A lot of offal remained and I guessed there would be wolves or at least birds of prey to clean it up in the summer thaw. But apparently, there were far fewer wolves around these days following a bounty of 60,000 rubles per wolf being imposed by the government. Even still, as Roma had told us, it was necessary for the State Farm team to check regularly on their herds.
As we drove back to Yuryung-Khaya, blizzard-like conditions set in. We could barely decipher the buildings as we drove back through the village.
Back in the Tuprin's warm and cosy cottage, Katya had prepared bowls of steaming hot soup and sandwiches all ready for our return. After a long day out in the tundra, I can't tell you how welcome the food was! We were by then starving hungry. Ed had certainly been right of course, to advise us to eat well before our trip. He had also been spot on about the fabulous experience of visiting the reindeer herds.
We had been so fortunate to have made the journey. And after such effort, to find the two herds. It was one of the most extraordinary experiences we have encountered, and we loved every minute. Well, except perhaps when we thought the tank was about to roll on the steep incline!
But how much more extraordinary could our experiences become? Well, in just a couple of days, we were to find out.....
2025-05-22