WELCOME BACK TO MAGADAN AND THE KOLYMA...
If we thought flying over the snow embossed taiga (subarctic forest) into Khabarovsk was wondrous, it was nothing compared with the excitement of flying over thousands of kilometers of the white blanketed, rugged mountainous country of Magadan Oblast (also known as Kolyma Krai). Unlike the scenery around Khabarovsk, there were no signs of life below, not even the smallest settlement. Beautiful snow covered mountains were dissected by deep rivers, most of which were totally frozen over.
Author Oleg Kuvaev writes in his well known novel The Territory "(On arriving in Magadan) ...suddenly it will happen that your flight will not turn up on the planet you came from" He was right. A stark and uninhabited lunar landscape, the brazen surrounds of the once notorious Kolyma were breathtaking; sublime....
We were euphoric about returning to Magadan, a city and region with which we had surprisingly fallen in love during our travels in the Russian summer of 2017 - only some six months before. Yes, we had long pondered what it would look like in the bitterly cold snowy winter months. Our travel agent Valentina had told us the region had endured almost unheard of blizzards and heavy snow falls over winter, but we were totally unprepared for our landing on the snow covered, icy runway of Magadan's Sokol Airport. On a chilly minus 20 C day, Magadan looked foreign, almost unrecognisable.....
Alexei, our interpreter during our 2017 travels, was however entirely recognisable. Greeting us like long lost friends, our smiling friend showered us with bear hugs, back pats and vigorous handshakes. Oh, it was so good to be back in Magadan. But where was our good friend Valentina? Alexei could be somewhat cagey "Well..." he began. "Well, actually, I don't know. She was supposed to drive here from her home* today, but she has not arrived. There has been a lot of snow...." he added. "What do we do then?" we asked. "Well, we will have to follow Plan B" he replied uncertainly. "OK, but what is Plan B?" we asked. "I don't know....". Yes, that was what we remembered as classic Alexei....
PLAN B....
As it happened, Plan B ended up being a taxi trip to Magtur's office in Magadan city. Goodness only knew what Plan C would be if Valentina didn't turn up. After all, it was late in the day and a return trip with us to the Base Camp was looking unlikely.
* Valentina's "home" was the Magtur Base Camp, located about 120 kilometers west of Magadan city on the coastal road following the Sea of Okhotsk. It was to be our home for our time in Magadan for the following three days.
Waiting in Valentina's tiny office in the VM Central Hotel, Alexei looked worried. He had not been able to phone Valentina nor her husband Michael (Misha). It appeared both phones were out of communication range. Eventually Misha answered, saying that Valentina had left for Magadan very early that morning and he had heard nothing from her since.
He was understandably concerned. The road to Magadan winds through some treacherously steep, high passes and in light of recent blizzards and heavy snow he thought it was likely the mountainous passage could be blocked. There are only three roads** in all of Magadan Oblast, and needless to say, there are no bypass options. And if a car breaks down and there is no heating, it can very quickly become a fatal situation. "Are there rescue vehicles for people whose cars have broken down, in such cold conditions?" we asked Alexei. "I don't know" he replied.
**There are so few major roads in Magadan Oblast, many do not have names. Valentina's address was just "Magtur, 183 Road, Magadan".
Alexei suggested a walk around the surrounds of the hotel. But it was bitterly cold and the underfoot icy going. It was our very first experience of slipping over on the ice. And of course, we only were wearing our "on-the-aircraft-sneakers". After that experience, we lived in our snow boots.
Back in the warmth of Valentina's office, Alexei showed us a copy of a new Magadan travel guide book "Kolyma Modern Guide" which had just been published in both Russian and English. There is very little literature available in English in books or on-line about Magadan, and we were delighted that we would be able to purchase a copy while we were there.
Valentina turned up just on dark. Smiling warmly and totally unfazed, she had spent some 13 hours in a traffic jam as a result of the snow blocked road. It had apparently taken many hours before graders and snow blowers could enter the area and even more time to gouge a passageway to allow a very long stream of traffic to pass through.
There was no doubt about our Valentina. She is the toughest and most capable woman we have ever met. A true heroine and super role model! Little did we know that we were to witness even more of her strength and resourcefulness the following day....
"THERE IS SOMETHING MAGICAL ABOUT MAGADAN...."
As we thought, it was far too late to contemplate making the treacherous return journey back to Magtur Base Camp. Would we like to stay the night at the VM Central, Valentina asked us. We asked if we could instead stay at Golden House Hotel - if that wasn't not too much of a problem. Nothing was ever a problem for Valentina. Our accommodation was quickly organised and we were delighted to spend a night in our favourite Magadan hotel.
On a snowy evening, we sat back in the hotel's cosy restaurant enjoying a gin and tonic whilst overlooking the sites and sounds of gorgeous Magadan in winter. Snow flakes fell softly; night lights reflecting curious pinkish hues on the snow encrusted surrounds. Relaxed and happy, we laughed that we were literally seeing the city through "rose coloured" glasses.
An English friend Mike Brown, who had lived and worked in Magadan, once said wistfully to us "There is something magical about Magadan". And there is.
An excellent meal ended a long but happy day. Almost unbelievably - here we were blissfully back in our beloved Magadan....
Note: My blog "Beyond Siberia: Russia's Eastern Eagle" covers our 2017 travels in Far East Russia to Primorye Krai, Kamchatka, Magadan Oblast, Sakha Republic and Khabarovskiy Krai. In this publication I have written extensively about the history, geography, economics and demography of Magadan Oblast. To read about Magadan, visit the blog at http://v2.travelark.org/travel-blog/crowdywendy/8
ON A FROSTY MORNING....
We woke the next morning to a brand new fall of thick snow; our hotel room windows almost half filled with a thick snowy mass. Cars parked outside overnight were housed in blankets of densely packed snow, almost like they were sporting comical marzipan pyjamas.
The city swathed in brilliant sunlight looked magnificent. Enjoying breakfast in the restaurant, we looked out onto the Holy Trinity Cathedral, its gold onion domes simply gleaming in the morning light. And the breakfast of eggs and bacon, followed by a dish of freshly made warm pancakes was very good. I was becoming dangerously addicted to Russian pancakes....
TO MAGTUR BASE CAMP ON THE SEA OF OKHOTSK
There was no doubt about it. Magadan certainly looked different in the heavy snow; much more attractive in fact. Driving out of town we passed the same miserable, broken down housing that we had driven past many times on our last travels. In the winter conditions however, the partially snow covered houses looked almost cute; snug and nearly buried in their snowy cocoons. Even the belching Magadan coal fired power station looked almost regal, with its rather elegant tall red and white chimneys.
Within half an hour out of town, the snow became extremely heavy, with large stacks piled some four meters in height on each the side of the road. As we ascended a steep mountainous slope, ominous stormy clouds appeared and icy wind blew fierce snow flurries against our windscreen. Valentina told us we were getting close to the section of road that had been blocked the day before. From her voice, it was obvious that she was concerned about getting through the road again this day.
Rounding a sharp bend, a car was parked precariously high up on one of the snowy banks. Groups of heavily dressed men battling a howling blizzarding wind were exchanging excited conversations, their shouts and gestures testament to some sort of disaster just ahead of us.
A snow covered figure appeared at Valentina's window. Apparently a van had become wedged in the passageway gouged out by the snow graders. There was, he said, nothing anyone could do to shift it....
Goodness knows what our Valentina said to him. But with a deep indignant snort, she thundered out of her car toward the unfortunate van. The surrounding men tried to ignore her, but it did not stop Valentina. All we could see from the safety of our car was a snow blown, pink jacketed figure talking non-stop and gesticulating wildly.
Our heroine apparently disgusted by the failed attempts, decided she would pull the van out herself. Somehow, she squeezed her car past several parked vehicles, grabbed the most massive tow rope we have ever seen, and proceeded to attach the trapped vehicle to our car. By then all we could see in the snow storm, was poor Valentina lying immersed in deep snow under both vehicles. We were impressed.
This amazing scene could have made a fantastically super feminist movie, I thought. "In deadly Siberian blizzard, valiant woman defies all odds. Where brave men failed, super woman Valentina saves the day!" It could have been great script but sadly, the theatre did not go quite to plan..... Within minutes, our car was bogged in deep snow completely blocking any access to the wedged in van. In saying that however, the male team was looking very impressed with Valentina's bold efforts, apparently asking her advice about what they should do next. Having met some very macho Russian men during our travels, we were well aware that Valentina's new reputation with these burly men was quite an achievement.
Finally the problem van was pulled out by an ancient looking Russian ex-army vehicle which was part of the by that stage, a very long queue. Known as a Uaz, these powerful snub nosed off-road vans have an amazing ability to survive the toughest conditions, and are widely accepted as the vehicle of choice in the worst arctic conditions.
The rest of our trip to Magtur Base Camp along the lovely Sea of Okhotsk was relatively uneventful. Once again, we marvelled at the day and night differences in the landscape from when we travelled the same path on that balmy summer day in 2017. Valentina told us that the Sea of Okhostk doesn't actually freeze right over in the winter months but it looked quite incongruous with its snow clad beaches and ice covered distant islands.
We also noted with some sadness, the many deserted villages that had once thrived before Perestroika. Mostly fishing and fish processing communities, most of the inhabitants were forced to leave when the Soviet political and economic system reversed almost overnight, and government subsidies for these isolated communities ceased. During our travels we were to have many conversations with older Russian people, many of whom were understandably sorry to have seen the demise of the Russian Soviet system.
MAGTUR BASE CAMP
Misha (Michael) met us at the base camp. We had met him briefly last year on our day trip to the Sea of Okhotsk but had not had the chance to get to know him. I guess it didn't help that we didn't speak any Russian. An unassuming gentle natured man, Misha was to become our male equivalent of our heroine Valentina. Was there anything this competent and extremely hard working couple could not handle? Seemingly not.... The ultra helpful Misha scooped up our luggage and despite our desperate protestations, simply leapt up the steep icy hill to the cabins with all bags as if he was carrying nothing at all. We were horrified. The baggage weighed nearly 40 kilograms....
Magtur Base Camp is located on a steep hillside with splendid views across the Sea of Othostk. Its spectacular beauty and isolation continues to remind us of our own tiny village of Crowdy Head on the Mid North Coast of New South Wales, Australia. The camp comprises a series of individual wooden cabins and a dining house as well as Valentina and Misha's permanent home. Oh, and course accommodation for their twenty five dog family!
We had lunch at the Base Camp on our day trip the previous year. It brought back some very lovely memories of enjoying our meal with a team of Russian people who had made a special pilgrimage back to Magadan; and all of whom had connections with the Kolyma's sad gulag past. We recalled wonderful conversations with the group via a young couple Svetlana and Ruslen, both of whom spoke perfect English - and of course Ruslen generously sharing his only bottle of vodka. It had been a very special and memorable occasion.
ALAN'S ENCOUNTER WITH A WAYWARD SNOW MOBILE....
Our three room cabin, comprising a bedroom, living and dining area, and a tiny kitchenette was basic but warm and comfortable. Misha hurried around us, making sure the kerosene heater was working while Valentina made us a substantial lunch. Her meals were always very good - and by our standards, absolutely huge. There was always homemade soup, followed by salad, bread and then a meat or fish course - or two.... And best of all, there was always a bowl of Valentina's home prepared salmon caviar. It was bliss for me and yet another addiction that has cost me dearly since I have been back home!
Our mission that afternoon was to go snow mobiling around their property. It sounded like great fun. Valentina seriously inspected our clothing. As she said, we would be outside in temperatures of nearly minus 20 C for around five hours. Our Under Armour Base Four military quality thermal underwear passed her eagle eyes, but she was adamant we would have to wear the special ski overalls she would provide us. This was our first encounter with trying to prise ourselves into cold weather gear. And I don't think we ever overcame our complete ineptitude with wrestling the dressing and undressing process. Either our zips would not do up, our hats would not fasten or we would constantly drop our gloves and mittens. And that is to say nothing of trying to blow our constantly running noses which to our disgust froze immediately, usually onto our scarves rather than our handkerchiefs....
Feeling like the much famed Michelin Men in our many layers of clothing, Valentina was finally convinced we were ready for our snow mobile adventures.
Firstly, however we had to meet the dog family, of which there were many members. Mostly Siberian huskies, these beautiful china blue-eyed, super friendly animals were all bred - and very much loved - by Valentina and Misha. And apparently, there were three other females inside her house ready to whelp at any time.....We often wondered how dogs could withstand the icy snow on their paws. It certainly didn't seem to worry them. They were the happiest animals and over the next two days we even became familiar with who was who - Bella, Irina, Niko, Sara, Elf, Max, Mita......
Valentina and Misha said the snow mobiles were very easy to drive. After all, they were very stable and there were only stop and go functions. Later I cursed that I had not asked about a handbrake.... And as Alan was to find out the hard way, they are not quite as stable as we were told.....
To our concern, the countryside surrounding the base camp was steep; very steep. For some irrational reason, I was convinced we would be riding on a totally flat surface, something like a frozen lake, I had thought. I had no concept that we would be riding up and down steep mountainous slopes with few made tracks - and frigg'n trees!
Our practice run was a very small circuit in the only flat area on the property. It was fun but the steering was not easy. I would have liked more time to practice but Valentina was concerned we should get going, claiming in these temperatures there were only a few hours when it was "warm enough" to be riding. And so we set off in fine style; Valentina leading followed by me, then Alan and Misha-the-pick-up-man pillioning Alexei in the rear. And of course, all the dogs came too.
I had not counted on the steepness of the slopes, nor the ability of a snow mobile to cruise sideways and downwards off track. And as mentioned the steering was unwieldy, with delayed responses something like driving a boat. Quite frankly, on the steep slopes I found it quite terrifying. Needless to say, in single file and with the noise of the snow mobiles, I couldn't ask Alan how he was faring. I just concentrated on meticulously following Valentina who seemed to be rocketing at a great pace under trees and over small water courses.
And suddenly from behind, I heard a loud cry of distress. It was not Alan calling out but Misha who was running toward the back of my snow mobile. Looking behind, all I could see was two skinny legs poking into the air. To my horror, they were not Alan's legs but the two sleds of Alan's snow mobile. It had apparently overturned and poor Alan was lying unseen beneath what was a quite a heavy machine.
It was a good thing that Misha was very strong as Alan could not lift the snow mobile off himself, his leg wedged beneath at a most peculiar angle. To my relief I heard Alan laughing and assuring Misha he was alright. Of course, I had no idea how to disengage the gears on my snow mobile to keep it stationary, and was not game enough to get off to help him.
How the hell did he roll his snow mobile I wondered? After all, Valentina and I had ridden over the exact same ground ahead of him. As it happened, Alan's vehicle had hit a deep snow drift and when one of the sleds went down, the snow mobile rolled over. In hindsight, it was not surprising. We were travelling over snow some meters in depth covering small bushes and shrubby low lie cedars. It was no wonder there were snow drifts around the vegetation below. But there was no time to talk. We were off again - for me at the rate of knots - although I am sure it felt a lot faster than it was.
All of us got bogged several times, and each time poor Misha had to drag us out. In the freezing conditions, it must have been hell for him. But he never once complained or told us how useless we were. I guess sometimes it helps not to speak each other's language.
About another five kilometers into our journey, a really steep incline faced us. To my horror, Valentina gunned it, skidding and sliding on her way to the top. I stupidly followed only to find I had not gone fast enough and there I was bogged half way up the incline. This time I really cursed for not knowing how to put the hand brake on. Perhaps there wasn't one? Misha, Alexei and Alan were a long way behind and so I had to sit precariously on the blessed snow mobile, on the almost vertical incline holding the machine together with the brake on the handlebars. In the freezing conditions, my hands grasping the brake began to ache unbearably. This was not a lot of fun....
It took quite some time for Misha to arrive then free the snow mobile which thankfully, he took back to the bottom of the slope. In the meantime, Valentina decided she didn't want to face the downward journey and so poor Misha had to ride her snow mobile down himself.
I had wrongly thought there was a track beyond the top of the incline. Thank god I got bogged.... After seeing Misha hurtle Valentina's snow mobile down to the bottom, I knew there was no way I could have managed it.
To my relief, it was time to stop for a cup of welcome tea. Perhaps we were going home after this, I thought hopefully. "Do you want to try some snow shoes?" asked Valentina. We sighed but decided we should try the snow shoes on - which took poor Misha forever to adjust. This man was a frigg'n super hero.... Walking in snow shoes was no mean feat. Like walking with two tennis racquets attached to our feet, we were constantly walking on our shoes and falling over. But we stuck it out for quite a while before we agreed - it sure was time to head off home.
Our ride home to the base camp was thankfully uneventful. I had no time to ask Alan how he was faring but he was still aboard his snow mobile so I guessed he was OK. Our return route was flatter and I expect we were getting used to our snow mobiles. As I relaxed, I began to really enjoy the experience. It was rather lovely; even exhilerating. And I had time to look around and over the stunning views of Amakhtonskiy Bay and the Sea of Okhotsk. Were we really in Russia, crazily snow mobiling around these mountains?
Over dinner Alan looked fine. He said he had no pain and he was in extraordinarily good humour. I was most impressed with his calmness. After all I wondered, how many 80 year old first time snow mobilers are there around - let alone one who rolls his snow mobile?
At ten to twelve that night, Alan woke in agony. His lower back muscles had gone into terrible spasms and to our horror, he was unable to walk. All I remember is him crawling on all fours over to the little indoor toilet. Valentina's house was quite a long way from us and up a very dark and steep icy incline. Furthermore, we had no phone coverage at the camp. Anyway, we thought - what could they do for us? With a Herculean effort, Alan dragged himself into a chair where he spent the night. Thank goodness, I had hurt my back just before we left and had taken a packet of Voltarin pain killers with me. We usually do not have any such medication with us.
Somehow, Alan managed to sleep upright. He had actually broken two or three of his lower ribs which was to give him a lot of pain over the next weeks. It was not the first time he had broken ribs when we were travelling.... Remember the fall on a slippery bathroom floor in Morocco I shuddered. Dozing off, I remember thinking "Well, at least it will make for a good blog entry. 'Eighty year old man rolls snow mobile in remote Siberian taiga - and survives'".....
Note: Special thanks to Valentina for some of the photos !
2025-02-07