We were sorry to be leaving Magadan. It had been wonderful to return to the city and surrounds during early spring and simply fascinating to see it transmorphed from a bold and robust Russian city into an enchanting, mystical fairyland. We had been blessed to see Magadan at its very best; dazzling in brilliant sunshine under deep azure blue skies and shrouded by a massive coat of luxuriant silver snow. We could not have wished for more. It was perfect. Had we left our trip just a few weeks later when the snow began to melt, our visit may have been a completely different story. And our stay in Magadan had been both interesting and great fun. We had developed an especially close relationship with Valentina and Misha, and of course Alexei.
At Sokol Airport, Valentina presented me with a very special present - another half kilo of caviar. "You can take it back to Australia. Just keep it cold" she said. Well, it didn't quite get to Australia. I am ashamed to say that I had eaten it well and truly beforehand! Tearfully hugging each other we promised we would meet up once again, either in Australia or even back to Magadan. "We love you Valentina!" we called out as we parted ways. Local passengers looked startled. Valentina smiled, nodding. We knew we would be back....
HOW WE NEARLY MISSED OUR FLIGHT TO BILIBINO....
We should be used to Russian airports by now. But we have never quite got accustomed to the tedious amount of bureaucracy, nor have we learned which documents to present at which time. It seems to change on every visit. And there is always that terrifying chance of losing those flimsy Immigration Forms without which, one's life as a Russian tourist could become exceedingly tricky. Apart from having a strap on my backpack caught in the rollers on the security scanning equipment and holding up the queue for some ten minutes until the machine was opened and the bag freed, we survived the check in in ordeal with few issues. We were going relatively well, we thought...
There were four flights leaving Magadan that morning and the departure room was packed. Like all airports, passengers were absorbed on their phones or just sat looking down. Russian airports are not friendly places. We were however, slowly becoming accustomed to the Russian way of not being at all familiar until a relationship has been established; a custom which is almost the reverse in our home country.
Flights were not called. Not that it would have mattered as we would not have understood anyway. A long queue was forming at the departure doors but we dismissed it because most of the passengers were men wearing uniforms. Thinking it was perhaps a special plane for a mining company, we almost missed our precious flight to Bilibino....
Looking across snowy Sokol Airport runway, our little Iraero Air twin propeller Antonov aircraft looked totally insignificant. And it was. Built perhaps some fifty years ago, the ancient plane looked to be held together by a mess of corroding metal bolts. The inside was cramped and basic, with very limited overhead storage. Cabin baggage was stuffed in the central aisle, completely blocking the passage. My seat belt not only refused to adjust to a smaller size but it would not fasten. There was a lot of free seat belt so I just tied it together. After all I thought, if this heap of metal crashed, a seat belt wouldn't help much anyway.
Our three hour flight was thankfully uneventful. Just after take off, a glass of water was served to each passenger. As for other domestic flights in Far East Russia, we assumed that was the extent of the hospitality. However, to our surprise a thin, jaded flight attendant in a shabby Iraero Airlines uniform, somehow managed to stumble through the cluttered aisle to present us with a meal of greasy poached chicken, tinned peas, a slice of plastic wrapped cheese, some stale bread, a cake and a cup of coffee. A cool beer would have been nice but we were not complaining.
If we thought that the snow clad scenery from Khabarovsk to Magadan was remote and exotic, it was nothing compared with our flight path to Bilibino. On a clear day, we had brilliant views of the snow blanketed tundra below. There were no settlements at all that we could see, just endless kilometers of white mountainous terrain dissected by the occasional frozen river.
As our dilapidated aircraft shook and shuddered into Bilibino's Keperve'em Airport, we were astonished to see we were landing on a completely frozen, snow packed runway. We were so busy peering excitedly out at the foreign lunar landscape that we hadn't noticed that the rest of the passengers had miraculously morphed into bundles of fur and gortex; completely immersed in huge, lavish coats, fur hats, scarves and thick snow boots. When did they get time to get changed, we wondered? Of course there was no time for us to don our cold gear. Looking ridiculous in our t-shirts and thin trekking pants, we clumsily grabbed our coats, hats, scarves, mittens and backpacks and somehow managed to struggled down a precarious metal rung ladder which took us from the plane to the snow covered tarmac.
Getting dressed outside on a minus 44 C day was no fun. The other passengers looked on impassively as we struggled with zips which refused to do up; dropping our mittens and handkerchiefs on the ground while our noses ran uncontrollably, freezing in disgusting snotty stalagmites onto our scarves. Funnily enough, we never got much better at the "Getting-Dressed-For-Extreme-Cold" ritual. Sadly, we always presented a rather pathetic sight.... Ineptitude is a word that came to mind often; very often....
We waited for at least half an hour outside our aircraft until a very smartly dressed airport official was happy she had ticked off all the passengers. "Where's the frigg'n bus?" Alan hissed shivering, through clenched teeth. Well, there was none. Escorted by our fur hatted official, we merely walked some 800 meters to the Keperve'em terminal. Welcome to Chukotka!
WELCOME TO CHUKOTKA!
"Hi guys. You must be Wendy and Alan. I'm your guide Alex" a soft, slightly US accented voice greeted us. Yes, I guess we were not hard to spot. And neither was Alex. Armed with several huge bags of valenkis*, boots, overalls, coats and other associated cold weather clothing, he could barely walk under the load. We were loaded with our heavy luggage too. "Say, you guys scare me! I thought you needed clothing!" Alex exclaimed. There was no point in explaining. We were just being safe. And as it happened, it was just as well.
* Valenkis are felt boots, renown as being the warmest footwear available for Arctic Russia.
Keperverve'em Airport and village is located 38 kilometers from Bilibino, and connected by a gravel road. Well that is in summer when you can see it is gravel. Our friendly taxi driver and his young female partner also provided the mail and parcel delivery service for Bilibino town. Somehow he managed to push all our embarrassingly massive luggage into the boot of his cab and we headed off across a totally snow coated track to Bilibino. Our expectations for accommodation in Bilibino were not high. After all, it is a very small town located in one of the most remote places in Russia.
Our Severyanka Hotel, located on the second floor of an apartment building, was however very good. The staff who initially looked quite startled at the arrival of us foreigners, was very friendly and helpful and to our surprise assigned us a four room suite which included a bedroom, large lounge and living area, bathroom as well as a very functional kitchenette. The furnishings were simple but comfortable, and it was spotlessly clean. And although there was no Internet, we were more than happy.
Before Alex left us to settle in to our new accommodation, he had one request. Could he take a selfie photo of all us in our room? It sounded somewhat bizarre but we were happy to oblige.
Alex then explained that our Dalgeo Travel agents Elena and Tatiana had apparently requested that he send them a photo when we first arrived in Bilibino. It seems they wanted to be absolutely certain we had arrived! For some reason, they were being extraordinarily careful about us. We shrugged our shoulders and posed....
Back in our lovely suite, we pinched ourselves. We could hardly believe we had arrived in Chukotka after such a long journey - not only in terms of the seemingly never ending organisational difficulty, but also the distance from our home in Australia of a whopping 12,000 kilometers. After all, if we had travelled straight from our home to Bilibino, it would have taken us five consecutive days and involved five different flights. And here we were - having finally travelled to one of the most remote and wildest regions in all of Russia, well above the Arctic Circle and home to the most northern and eastern settlements in the country. It was an extraordinarily exciting moment. It was time to celebrate.
A glass of whisky, a packet of potato chips and Valentina's caviar was a somewhat unconventional but very enjoyable way to welcome the beginning of what was to be one of of the most exciting journeys of our lives. "Here's to Chukotka - at long last!" we toasted.
CHUKOTKA AUTONOMOUS OKRUG - AT A GLANCE
Chukotka is one of 89 federal subjects within the Russian Federation. Its capital city is Anadyr on the far south east of the Okrug.The distances out here are breathtaking. Chukotka covers a vast area of some 737,700 square kilometers, roughly the size of France and England combined. Chukotka spans some 1,400 kilometers in width from its western border on the Kolyma River in Siberia to the Bering Strait to the east, in places only kilometers from the Alaskan coastline. To the north lies the Arctic Ocean and to the south, the Koryak ranges of Kamchatka. Chukotka Okrug also includes the famous Wrangel, Herald and Ratmanov islands.
Just about all of Chukotka lies above the Arctic Circle and the Okrug is home to one of the harshest climates and environments on earth. Locals joke "The weather is bad for one month, very bad for two months and absolutely wretched for the other nine months!" The average yearly temperature for Chukotka is below zero, averaging minus 4 C in the south to minus 12 C in the north. The coldest registered temperature recorded was minus 61 C in Omolon, near the Magadan border. The region is subject to extreme and volatile climatic changes due to the clash of Arctic and Eurasian cyclonic activity, and as mentioned, it is home to the much feared "Uzhak", the most ferocious hurricane known on earth.
Oh yes, and for good measure, Chukotka gets the fewest hours of sunshine in the world - a meagre 1,000 hours per year, as well as the highest yearly wind speed and the highest frequency of storms and hurricanes in Russia. Yes, it's a real fun place in which to exist...
Chukotka's terrain is mostly mountainous. In the central region lies the Anadyr Plateau and the Anyuy Mountains; the highest mountain being a nameless peak that rises 1,887 meters above sea level. The greater part of Chukotka is permafrost.
There are three natural vegetative zones in Chukokta: forest tundra, tundra and Arctic desert. Real forest however, is only found in the far west of the region. There are a staggering 8,000 different rivers in the Okrug, most of which are fed by melted snow. The largest is the Anadyr River measuring a length of some 1,500 kilometers and with an estuary of seven kilometers in width.
Despite its vast size however, Chukotka is one of the least inhabited places on earth, supporting a total population of less than 50,000 people. Indigenous inhabitants comprise a population of some 14,600 with 60 different ethic groups, including the Chukchi, Inuit, Even, Koryak, Churansky and Yukagir peoples. The official language is Russian although individual indigenous groups are endeavouring to maintain their individual culture and language.
Most of Chukokta's villages were historically located on the coast where plentiful amounts of fish were available to traditional settlers. More recently however, mining of the Okrug's rich resources has opened up the interior with newer towns such as Bilibino, Aliskero and Baranikha being founded and developed as urban centres.
Because of the severe climate, there are virtually no permanent roads. Ice roads are used for transport in the winter months but become impassable muskegs when the snow melts. Transport is mainly by air, or by sea in summer, and is very often dictated to by the extremely changeable and wild weather conditions. Reviving the Northern Sea Route across the Arctic Ocean has been essential for Chukotka and the Russian Far East in allowing significant reduction in times for shipping transport between Asia and Europe (transport from Beijing to Rotterdam taking 48 days via the Suez Canal route and only 35 days by the North Sea route).
Shipping to ports on the Arctic shoreline is only possible however during a short window of opportunity in the summer months, when the sea melts.
The harsh climate and very little arable land means that nearly all foodstuffs, goods and equipment must be "imported in from the Mainland"** Local foods comprise mostly fish, moose and reindeer meat.
In Chukotka, only maritime Chukchis and Inuit people are allowed to hunt for whale and walruss, but only in their traditional territory under the quotas of the International Whaling Commission.
** We noted with curiosity that local Chukoktans call any other part of Russia "The Mainland"; an obvious reflection of the absolute remoteness of the region.
The main economy today in Chukotka is the mining industry; the region being rich in metals such as gold, silver, copper, tin, tungsten, and mercury and well as coal and gas. Prospects for further economic development based on mining appear positive, but with such a severe climate and permafrost environment, costs especially transport, infrastructure, as well as power generation and maintenance in such an environment are extreme.
In light of this overview of Chukotka, one could well wonder how a population could live in such a wild, harsh and super remote location. Add it is not at all surprising that it is hardly a well trodden tourist destination. And why would anyone in their right mind want to live, let alone travel here? Well, that was exactly what we were there for: to explore this mysterious, stark and awesomely beautiful region, and to hopefully gain some sort of insight into how its people exist and how they go about their everyday lives. And we did...
INTRODUCING ALEX
We liked Alex the minute we met him. It was just as well as we were to spend a lot of time together, often in very close quarters. A fine featured, handsome young man, Alex was an indigenous Chukcha. Fiercely proud of his heritage, he generously provided us with a valuable insight not only into the Chukchi culture and way of life, but also a unique understanding of the day to day realities of life for all those living in the extreme, remote conditions of Arctic Chukotka.
Interestingly Alex was educated in Nome, Alaska. Yes, of course that accounted for his slight American accent and often very western mannerisms and terms of speech - and most disarming for us, his expert usage of the English language. It was a great background for being a travel guide and we knew we were very privileged to have not only a local English speaking Chukchi guide, but also one who had an surprisingly good understanding of western idiosyncracies. In fact, during our conversations with Alex, we were very often reminded of our own idioms and sometimes crazy Australian style of speaking. And every now and then Alex would correct our English or ask us difficult questions about language terminology and complex grammar; even quite technical questions such as the use of the dreaded conjugated verbs!
Alex was a great guide. He had a good sense of humour, was easy going and interestingly for a such a young person, was acutely sensitive to our requirements.
For most of our travels in Chukotka, we virtually lived together sharing kitchens, preparation of food, meals and transport. And on occasions we were stranded together - such as the 16 hours we spent in a Trekol (6WD) on our troubled and hazardous 360 kilometer ice road journey from Bilibino to Pevek, and also in Pevek where we were stranded together for some eight days before we could fly out to the blizzard engulfed city of Anadyr. There are not many people who could live in such close proximity with the odd bit of stress, without some sort of disagreement or tension. But to our delight, we got on famously.
OUR FIRST EVENING IN BILIBINO & THE UNFORGETTABLE EKATERINA
In the early evening Alex came to our room to brief us about our Chukotka trip and our first evening in Bilibino. Arriving late in the day, we had not had the opportunity to explore the town; our only impressions being our views of the snow drowned rows of almost identical but brightly painted Soviet styled buildings in the front of our hotel building. From what we could see, there appeared to be no roads, only patterns of deep tracks etched through the snow which appeared to act as links between the buildings. There was very little signage and of course what was there, we could not read. It was for us, a very foreign environment.
Alex was excited that by accident he had met an indigenous woman who was visiting Bilibino from her home town of Omolon, on the Magadan border in the very south of Chukotka. Ekaterina, a well known elder who was engaged in indigenous community work across the Okrug, had said she would be delighted to meet and talk with us that evening. It was even more co-incidental that she was a friend of Alex's mother who was also a well known community representative and anchor for a local Anadyr Chukchi radio program. He had organised a traditional dinner at the local community centre where we would also be meeting several members of the local Chukchi community. It sounded like a fabulous opportunity.
Just before we left that evening, Alex asked "Is there anything you don't eat?" Remembering one of Ed Vallance's*** blogs where he described in exquisite detail the sensation of warm fresh reindeer blood trickling down his throat, I hastily blurted "We are fine with anything except blood".
As it happened, it was just as well I did....
*** Edward Adrian-Valance is Managing Director of Arctic Russia Travel and an avid blog writer.
Our walk to the community centre that evening was a very new experience for us. The dressing preparation ritual however, was perhaps the most educational. It took us forever to wrench on our thermals, coats, hats, boots, gloves only to find to our dismay that we could not zip ourselves up in our jackets with our mittens on. And to our annoyance we kept dropping bits and pieces, which Alex patiently picked up behind us.
Alex had taken great pains to inspect us to ensure we were suitably attired before we left. To my disgust, he also insisted that I wear the hat he had brought for me - something that resembled some of the chewed rats that our cats so often bring home. Alan looked just as hilarious in his cossack styled fur hat, adding even more inches to his already considerable height. Of course we knew it was not a fashion exhibition, but we really did look ridiculous. Yes, like Australians dressed in Russian clothes....
On a freezing minus 44 degree C evening, it was quite an experience just to walk the short distance to the centre. The pathways were perilously slippery and veering off the tracks only just a little meant we often sank thigh deep in very soft snow. Like being in a snowy equivalent of quick sand, we just kept on sinking.
Alex on the other hand seemed to skip along, never slipping or falling into holes like we did. Interestingly, the main sensation of cold was not in our bodies, but on our faces. Our eyelashes froze and our cheeks ached. We soon learnt to encapsulate our noses and cheeks in our woollen scarves, but our breath rapidly froze onto the scarves making it quite difficult to breathe!
We were greeted with great warmth at the community centre by a team of local Chukchi women and some of their children. Sasha, Larissa and Elena made a great fuss of us. They were all Chukchi locals who contributed to their community through the centre, obviously a wonderful venue for their activities.
Sasha (a diminutive of the name Alexandra), an attractive and bright young woman, spoke a little English and adopted the role as an unofficial hostess for the evening. Very formally she presented me with a piece of paper carefully written by one of the children "For good keepsake to our friends from Australia. Bilibino, March 15 2018. Temperature minus 44 C. Dima, 5 years old". Sasha then explained that we were the first Australians they had received in Bilibino and that over dinner she and the other women would like not only to tell us about their town of Bilibino but also to talk to us about Australia. But first we had to meet Ekaterina.
Ekaterina, a diminutive part Yukagir, part Even woman dressed in colourful traditional clothing greeted us with much enthusiasm. She may have been tiny in stature, but she was formidable in terms of knowledge and experience, and was obviously treated with great respect by the other women. At 75 years of age, the proud Ekaterina looked considerably older than her years but she certainly was not one to be taken lightly. Through Alex's translation, she spoke to us for some considerable time about her people and their way of life from early Soviet days to the present. It was fascinating. And how fortunate were we to meet this impressive woman, who was so well read and disarmingly knowledgeable even to the extent she knew a surprising amount about our Australian aborigines.
I might add here that we were to learn a lot about the local people of Chukotka. Without wanting to sound arrogant, we were constantly surprised by the educational standards, knowledge and sophistication of the people living in one of the remotest and harshest environments in the world.
We were treated to a very special meal comprising mostly reindeer meat: raw liver and lung, and some lightly seared heart meat. A huge meaty skeleton adorned one end of the table but thankfully it was given to Alex to gnaw upon. Alan and I are not big meat eaters but I must say we did well to graciously eat our way through much of the meal. It was the beginning of my passion for cucumbers, a vegetable which I have hated all my life.... At least I could hide a bit of the meat in the middle of two slices.
During our meal, the women asked some really interesting questions about our country, and especially about our Australian aborigines. Does it snow in Australia?
What sort of meat do we eat? Do we like eating so many vegetables?
Thankfully the subject of drinking blood didn't arise. We were to learn later from Alex that Sasha had been astonished that we would not drink blood "What? Why is that?" she had asked incredulously. "They eat meat don't they?" It was an interesting question and another reminder of our anathema of any sight of blood in our food.
When we considered Sasha's view, she had a good point. But I was very glad of Ed Vallance's blog description....
By some strange curiosity, our conversation turned to homosexuality. God forbid, I have no idea how or why.... Our friends were however hugely interested in Australia's recent referendum in favour of gay marriage. Why did we need such laws they asked? Thinking how wonderfully open minded they were all being, we chatted away for some considerable time about how, in our opinion it was such a break though for our often maligned gay community. We were however abruptly stopped in our tracks when Ekaterina wearily shook her head saying "Well, we don't need those sorts of rules because we just don't have homosexuality here". It was time to change the topic.
Twenty cups of tea later, it was time to leave. Sasha told us that she and the women often sat up until 2.00 am at the centre chatting over a huge number of cups of tea. But we were all exhausted, especially Alex who had to interpret for some hours. It had been a very special evening; warm, friendly and so interesting. And such a priviledge for us.
Sadly for us, Ekaterina was returning back to Omalon but we would see the other women on a tour of Bilibino town the following day.
"See you tomorrow!" called Sasha in perfect English as we left.
geoff
2018-07-04
once again an awesome account of your amazing trip - well done