A PLEASANT SLOW START TO OUR DAY
Alan was putting on a very brave face. After a virtually sleepless night, he was in considerable pain with what we suspected were a number of broken ribs. Valentina told us that it was most unusual to break bones in the soft deep snow and was convinced he must have fallen onto a broken tree branch. Looking concerned, she came armed with a large tube of Voltarin cream and a heap of pain killers. The combination would fix any pain she assured us. And it certainly did help - together with quite a few of the Voltarin tablets we had with us. Thank god for Valentina and Voltarin....
Just on dawn, I had taken a walk around the base camp and took some early morning photographs across the Sea of Okhotsk. The day was glorious; brilliant sunshine and a totally clear azure sky. In our home country of Australia, such bright sunny conditions even in mid winter, would almost certainly allow us to venture out for a short time without a coat - or even a jumper. But the arctic sunshine was deceptive. It took just minutes before my fingers clad only in under gloves were icy cold and aching.
It was to take us a long time to get used to the seriousness of the cold in Russian winters. We were forever being reminded that we were not zipped up properly or we needed to put our mittens on. Even people we didn't know would stop us in the street and try to pull our zips right up or tell us we needed to put our hats or mittens on.
At a chilly minus 22 C, Valentina considered the morning was far too cold for our planned dog sledding. Instead, she suggested that we drive along the Sea of Okhotsk road to the villages of Tauysk and Balagannoye, then drive on to Talon; a journey of some 154 kilometers. We had visited this pretty part of the coast during our 2017 travels when we caught the ferry over the Yana River to Tauysk and then to Balangannoye and Yansk. This time we would drive over the frozen river on an ice road (zimnik), the first of our zimnik travels in Russia. We had not however been all the way to Talon, literally the end of the road for the Okhotsk Sea route*. Her suggestion sounded good to us, especially the sore and sorry Alan.
* Plans were once in place to extend the road past Talon as far as the township of Okhotsk but like many projects following Perestroika, funds ran dry and well, it just didn't happen.
On an icy cold morning, we really appreciated a warming breakfast of hot pancakes and lots of coffee. And there was always bread and caviar - and lots of it too! To my delight, Valentina gave me my very own pot of caviar (about half a kilo!) to eat whenever I liked. When I asked her if she could spare such a large amount, she shrugged saying she had prepared ten kilos not long before we arrived and was pleased to have someone who liked it as much as I did. Ten kilos of caviar! For someone who pays $50 for just 100 grams back home in Australia, it was impossible imagine.... Oh, and best not to think about all those unborn fish children I devoured during our travels....
A slow start to the day gave us time to talk with our hosts and Alexei who always joined us in our cabin for meals. Valentina and Misha were of Ukrainian heritage; originally from Soviet Kazakhstan where they had met as students. And both are qualified engineers with a host of other associated higher degree qualifications. Valentina and Misha chose Magadan as their home and eight years ago bought a house on what is now the Magadan Base Camp site.
The couple has since put a huge amount of personal effort into building a tourist facility which includes a number of free standing cabins on land they lease from a government agency - we guess it is something like our Lands Department back home.
Our hosts explained that tight environmental controls have posed severe restrictions on what they what they can build and how they operate. They have only been allowed to erect "temporary homes", with no bathrooms or toilets and there is no on-line power or town water! In such an extreme environment, it has been really tough going for this pair to build and maintain a tourism business. But they are the most hard working people and their tenacity and sheer strength of mind is formidable. If anyone can make a go out of tourism in Magadan, Valentina and Misha certainly can.
A MORNING IN BALAGANNOE & TALON
Poor Misha always seemed to draw "the short straw". As we piled into Valentina's car for our drive to Talon, there was not enough cabin room for Misha so he had to squash up in what was like a boot section in the rear of the car. He was the most unbelievably patient and good natured man.
From Magtur Base Camp to the Tauysk, it was hard to recognise the road we had travelled along on that balmy day in August 2017.
Thick ice lined the road and the tiny crumbling villages of Novostroika, Nizhnearmausk and Jansky, pupated in their snowy cocoons, had almost disappeared from sight.
Driving across what appeared to be a wide flat snow field, Valentina explained that we were now on the zimnik which crossed the frozen Yana River. It was impossible to believe it was the very river we had caught our ferry across to Tauysk in summer the year before. The scenery was stark yet incredibly beautiful; an endless gorgeously pristine white "sea" of frozen ice and snow. The road was in wonderful condition; flat, smooth and obviously very well maintained. We could not help but wonder however, just how much ice was between us and the icy river water below. Best not to ask or think about it, we concluded....
To our surprise, a number of cars were parked just off to the side of the zimnik. Looking closer we could see lots of fishers equipped with ridiculously tiny rods and fishing from small ice holes they had drilled out by hand.
It sure didn't look very comfortable on a minus 20 C day sitting on a small wooden plank seat, fishing with crunchy ice underfoot. The good natured fishermen were surprisingly friendly, encouraging Alan and me to take some of their rods and try fishing for ourselves. An older man (probably much younger than us!) had caught quite few Smelt, known in Russian as Koreshka. Resembling a type of small Whiting, they are a prized catch for their eating qualities. Valentina told us to smell their flesh. A bit strange I thought. But to our surprise, they smelled distinctly of strong cucumber.
Ice fishing was surprisingly difficult. It was very cold and it didn't help wearing mittens either. Most of the fishermen were using tiny lures somewhat like a bait jig we used in Australia. It was they said, just a matter of jigging the lure.
Needless to say, we didn't even get a nibble and from what we could see not many of the fishermen were catching much either. It was interesting though, and certainly very different from any type of fishing we had experienced. Alan is not at all keen on fishing and it didn't take long before he was ensconced safely back in the warmth of Valentina's car!
While in Tauysk we thought about our trip in the summer of 2017 and how completely different the village was in winter. We recalled also our visit to the tiny Tauysk museum that was run by the lovely indigenous Even elder Mairyona Serofimouna. There we were most ceremoniously welcomed by Mayor of Tauysk Tatiana Nicolai. Tatiana was most interested in my travelogue and I remembered promising her and the musuem a copy when it was completed. And I will certainly do so, as soon as our new website has the facility to enable authors to publish hard copy books.
Beautiful Balagannoye (its curious name is derived from the word for Yakut dwellings or "Balagans") is a settlement of around 300 people - in summer. Built in a lovely location on the mouth of the Taui River, a tributary of the Yana, Balagannoye is in the summer season a lively place for local fishers.
Amazingly, Balagannoye was not at all recognisable to us in the icy winter conditions. Barely visible in massively deep layers of snow, many of the houses were obviously not inhabited. Most of the residents Valentina said, had left for the winter. We wandered around the village for a good while, seeing virtually no people at all. The only signs of habitation were fox prints in the deep snow. Snow seiged Balagannoye reminded us of a real ghost town; eerie and shrouded in white... A world away from its summer life.
As we drove to Talon, the depth of snow increased significantly. We had never witnessed such deep snow conditions. Uninhabited houses and motor vehicles almost totally covered, would obviously wait until the summer thaw before being freed of their icy prisons. A submerged fire engine looked ridiculously incongruous in the freezing conditions. Farm sheds capped with thick layers of marzipan snow looked like they were wearing crazy winter hats. How these structures didn't collapse under the immense weight, was beyond us. It was the deepest snow we were to see on all of our travels, even during our time in arctic Chukotka.
Talon is a relatively large settlement and is the administrative centre for the surrounding villages. It boasts some reasonably substantial and quite lovely chalet styled houses as well as the usual Soviet style block apartments.
Valentina told us there was a mine just outside of the town with some associated industry, and also some agricultural production of potatoes, beetroot and cabbages in the summer months. Like Balangannoye, we saw virtually no people and for all intents and purposes the town looked almost empty. Despite its abandoned appearance however Talon boasted an undeniable beauty. Elegant ice clad tree branches, long dripping icicles and dense masses of gleaming, pure white snow made for a wonderful almost Christmas-like scene. Only the ubiquitous deep orange stains of dog urine marred an otherwise super pristine environment.
Valentina had a friend in Talon who worked for the National Parks agency. Her house was very attractive, a chalet design with pretty blue trim and surrounded by giant deciduous larch trees. Outside a gorgeous blonde husky puppy greeted us like long lost friends. Valentina's friend was not home but Valentina managed to contact her by phone, asking if she and Misha could borrow some fuel.
It was just another thing we had not thought about for people living in such remote parts of Magadan. How on earth do people get fuel in winter? There were certainly no open petrol stations. Apparently the fuel is shipped in, in barrels and that co-operative borrowing is common. Like so many other remote, cold climate places we had visited, community co-operation is just not being nice to one another, it's all about survival.
Valentina's friend was happy to oblige and it was all fine as none of the outside buildings was locked. Once again it fell to the ever suffering Misha to bucket diesel into containers in our car. Now we realised why there was such little space for passengers....
HOW NOT TO RIDE A DOG SLED.....
Over a warming lunch of moose soup and pan fried, freshly caught salmon, we talked with Valentina and Misha about riding dog sleds, an activity in which I was to partake in the afternoon. "We will go when it's warmer, between 2.00 to 5.00 pm" interpreted Alexei.
Despite all his rude comments about dog sledding, Alan was disappointed. He was however far too sore from his damaged ribs to contemplate a dog sled ride and sadly resigned himself to an afternoon of reading - in the warmth of our cabin.
I have owned and ridden horses all my life and had no concerns about dog sledding. Surely all you do is sit there and steer them? I knew that the dogs tended to be very lively to begin with and I would need to use the sled brake to slow them down - but surely it couldn't be all that difficult? After all, they were dogs not large horses.... I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that it thought I would be sitting in the sled with a warm blanket over my knees and calling out "mush, mush". Yes, just like they do in the movies. And of course I would have reins to steer them, just like I always did with my horses.
Valentina looked concerned at my frivolous assumptions. "Well no" interpreted Alexei. "You actually have no control at all. But the dogs know the trails. All you have to do is hang on and use the brake if the dogs are running too fast". No reins? No steering? Standing up on the sled? And calculating how many dogs I would need to not be totally out of control while I was hanging on for dear life....? Apparently four dogs would be more than enough given my size and weight. Snow mobiling was starting to look like a safe option....
As it happened, I was the only person to be dog sledding. In hindsight, with my total lack of control and for the safety of everyone else it was probably a good thing. The dogs were tethered and ready to be harnessed when Alexei and I found them at the very top of the hill behind the base camp; the same steep site where we started our snow mobiling the afternoon before. This is not frigg'n flat ground, I thought. How on earth do you hang on around these steep slopes? And I had a six, not four dog powered sled. I felt a sudden pang of acute unease... (see You Tube video at https://youtu.be/m87F1O3Aqoo "The Unease Before the Storm!).
Valentina would again lead the way - on a snow mobile. I would follow with my mega charged D6 powered sled followed by Misha who would pillion Alexei on another snow mobile.
Alexei interpreted how I was to use the brake. To my horror, it was not a hand brake but a centrally located device I needed to activate by taking my foot off one of the sleds.
We were off, rocketing down an initially low grade incline and then onto a steeper gradient, along the side of a very steep hill. To my horror, my sled would not keep on the track and kept slewing sideways off track and down the side of the slope. At one stage when my sled was well off the track, I was dangerously close to dragging the dogs sideways and down with me. Once back on the track the dogs again took off at the rate of knots.
I tried using the brake but each time I took my foot off the sled, I started to loose my balance. Small tree stumps lined the trails. By some miracle I didn't - on my forward journey that is - hit one. Hurtling off this blessed sled became a very real prospect. There was no point I realised in calling out to Valentina to slow down or stop. She could not hear me and even if she did, she wouldn't have understood my English. And I couldn't stop anyway.
By some act of god we eventually came to a clearing where Valentina whizzed around her snow mobile in a small half circle, effectively stopping my canine freight train. "Well done Wendy! You did a super job!" (in staying on I gathered) exclaimed Misha-from-the-rear-who-could-suddenly-speak-some-English. It was as well someone could talk as I was absolutely speechless from sheer terror.
I hoped the dogs would be tired for our return journey - but no. The homing instinct was far too strong. If anything I was travelling faster than ever, totally out of control and doing everything (except braking) to stay on board. For some reason, Valentina had stopped on the trail. All I remember is her eyes standing out on stalks as I hurtled toward her. The dogs only just missed her but my sled hit a small tree stump and off I flew, absurdly running sideways in thigh deep snow as my D6 team took off for home, the sled rocketing dangerously up into the air as it hit small shrubs and branches. "God, this thing is going to snap in two before the dogs get home", I shuddered.
No-one was impressed and I had hurt the upper muscles of both legs, bogging in the deep thick snow. But there was no way I could complain. I had really stuffed up and I knew it.
Misha eventually caught my uncontrollable mob. "Do you want to ride the sled home? The dogs will be tired now". No, I didn't. I took his snow mobile and Misha took the dogs. Thankfully neither the dogs nor the sled were damaged in the frenzied dash.
One a very cold late afternoon Valentina and Misha took another team for a run, while Alexei and I walked back to the camp. In the growing darkness however, we were unable to find our track back home. In desperation, we finally skidded on our bottoms down a very steep embankment and somehow skated down the now perilously icy trail to our cabin.
"Enjoyed yourself, darling?" Alan called out from his invalid's armchair. "No! I will never go f'ing dog sledding ever again" I growled stumbling into our living area as best as my injured thighs would allow. Alexei looked nearly as cold and wrecked as me. Sad and sorry sights, we both collapsed on the lounge while Alan burst out laughing.....
"DON'T TALK ABOUT THE DOG SLEDDING...." OR A LOVELY EVENING WITH FRIENDS
I am pleased to say that the evening did improve. Valentina had promised we would have special dinner of "Koreshka" or Smelt, the same fish we had seen the ice fishers catch that morning. And I promised to cook it for her. It was very funny for Valentina and I trying to cook together. Alexei had disappeared I had no idea of how long to cook the fish. Unlike the that which I catch and prepare at home, the fish was ungutted and cooked whole, with just a plain seasoned flour coating. I winced watching the blood oozing from the fish bellies. During our travels I came to realise that blood in food is anathema for us Australians.... The fish however was surprisingly delicious; the guts forming small cooked masses which allowed us to easily prise the delicate white flesh from the fish frame.
Alexei who was a non-drinker, told us that neither Valentina nor Misha drank alcohol either. But we decided on our last night at the Base Camp that we would like at least offer to share our vodka and beer. Well, Alexei may have been the best interpreter but in this instance he was wrong; very wrong.... We enjoyed a wonderful evening with our good friends. The food was fabulous, as was the company. Several bottles of vodka went down extremely well. And no-one mentioned the dog sledding.
But by the time we went to bed, I couldn't walk. Ahh, thank goodness for the Voltarin.....
Graham
2018-06-07
I realy feel sory for that dog sitting on ice warching the fishermen, hope they didn't stick to the ice when he stood up.