Lake Baikal

Sunday, 15th July 2012

My initial, very brief post, was made on 16th July 2012:-

During Saturday night we’d arrived at Slyudyanka station where we’d remained until morning. So I awoke to find a rather handsome stone built station building on one side and four or five sidings with waiting freight trains on the other side. A diesel locomotive had replaced the electric traction which had brought us from Ulan Ude.

Well, there's a lot more to tell you, and a lot of pictures to post but that will have to wait.

Incidentally, I'm posting this from a restaurant in Irkutsk.

That's all I had time for but I'll try to expand a little now. The 'handsome stone built station building' at Slyudyanka should have alerted me to the importance of this area in the history of the Trans-Siberian Railway but I'm afraid I was completely ignorant of the significance of the Lake Baikal area.

The handsome station building, in pink and white marble, at Slyudyanka.

Lake Baikal is the oldest lake in the world (over 25 million years old), the deepest (5,387 feet) and one of the clearest. It's 395 miles long and 49 miles wide at its widest. It holds 20% of the world's unfrozen fresh water. It's rich in plantlife and animals, many of which are only found around Lake Baikal and is a World Heritage Site. In addition to a Wikipedia article here, there's an interesting site here and UNESCO's site here. Whilst over 330 rivers and streams flow into Lake Baikal, it is drained only by the Angara River which flows north through Irkutsk. In the 1960s, this river was dammed to provide hydro-electric power to the Irkutsk area.

It was only on my return that I learned a little about the construction of this part of the Trans-Siberian, known as the 'Circum-Baikal Railway'. I've written a brief description in The Completion of the Trans-Siberian Railway.

Around 7.00 a.m. our diesel locomotive set off from Slyudyanka with the the ten coaches of the 'Golden Eagle'. We proceeded along the main line past more sidings to Kultuk, where we diverged onto the 'Circum-Baikal Railway' for our journey of around 90 km to what is now the end of the line at Port Baikal. The sun was just rising above Lake Baikal on our right.

Sunrise over Lake Baikal.

Signs of industry fell behind us and we passed through attractive 'Alpine' scenery - pine trees, steep, rocky hillsides on our left and the placid waters of the Lake extending as far as we could see to our right.

Most of the time, the train was snaking on a rocky outcrop raised above the shore. From time to time, our route would take us slightly inland, leaving space for attractive wooden buildings next to the shore. One group of buildings at Sharyzhalgai was neatly painted in brown and yellow and labelled as a 'Resort House for the East Siberian Railway'. Near the buildings, there were usually a number of people, seriously attired for country pursuits. The shores of Lake Baikal are becoming popular with campers and holidaymakers. The variety of wild flowers we could spot from our train confirmed the richness of the flora around the Lake.

There are 39 tunnels on the way to Port Baikal, Galleries and numerous bridges either stone, steel girder or, inplaces, concrete. A variety of designs of tunnel portal are used, all in stone, and tunnel linings are also stone. I believe Italian stonemasons were recruited for this work.

The 'Golden Eagle' entering one of the tunnels.

After we'd been travelling for around two and a half hours, we passed through a very short tunnel (Number 13, 29.8 m), crossed a broad river and came to a stop near a small village, Polovina (sometimes written Polovinny). The only 'platform' was a short section of pre-cast concrete and the train had halted with the front door of passenger coach 1 aligned with this 'platform'. We were only allowed off by walking through the train and exiting at this door.

As soon as we came to a stand, I spotted a member of the train staff jumping off the train with a fishing rod. Later, I saw him return to the train, carrying a decent-sized fish. I don't know what it was, but Lake Baikal is famous for its Omul fish.

As we'd arrived, we'd passed a preserved 'Ea' class locomotive standing on what would have been the second track, before the line was singled. My first task was to survey this. This was one of the American-built locomotives supplied to Russia.

To reach the small beach, we had to cross the line in front of our locomotive. It had been suggested that we might wish to swim at this location but a simple test of the water temperature meant that I immediately abandoned this idea, although a few of the younger passengers did brave the waters. They did confirm that it was very, very cold. Not to be completely thwarted, I paddled in the Lake, and was joined by a couple of our passengers. The water was incredibly clear and, for some hours afterwards, I had a pleasant 'tingling' sensation in my feet.

Jan braves the waters of Lake Baikal.

When we first stopped, I'd spotted a woman emerging from a 'bender' tent on the beach. There was something very business-like about her, so I was not surprised to see that she had set up a little souvenir stall next to the train. This is where I purchased the excellent guide book on the Circum-Baikal Railway referenced below.

There was still time for me to take a walk through the village - very quiet except for the clucking of a number of hens running free. The track led down to the bank of the Polovinnaya River we'd crossed on our arrival. On my way back, I exchanged greetings with an elderly man walking through the village.

It was now time to leave Polovina and continue to Port Baikal. With the 'switcher' design of locomotive, there's a catwalk, provided with a handrail, either side of the engine compartment. Interested guests were to be allowed to ride on the catwalk facing the Lake for a short while. We all clambered up enthusiastically and the train set off. As soon as we left Polovina, the train entered tunnel number 12. At 778.4 m in length, this is the longest tunnel on the line and, unusually, it is completely straight. Although it was rather noisy next to the engine compartment, I found it delightful with unobstructed views of the Lake. I wasn't worried when it started to rain but, all too soon, the train came to a stop and we were invited to rejoin the passenger coaches. A fascinating interlude.

Looking back along the train from our vantage point on the locomotive.

Next, we took lunch in the Restaurant Car and, after another enjoyable meal, we arrived at Port Baikal about half past one, where we had a little free time to explore. I was pleased to find a preserved water crane (from the era of steam traction), complete with its lamp housing which indicated to an approaching train when the crane had been swung so as to obstruct the line. There was also a preserved 'L' class 2-10-0 locomotive. But I had to rush back to the restored station building for an opportunity to look inside the Circum-Baikal Railway Museum. I would have happily spent longer in this small museum but Tatiana was anxious to get us all to the chartered ferry which would take us to Listvyanka at 2.30 p.m.

A model of Port Baikal around 1900, on display in the Circum-Baikal Railway Museum at Port Baikal. The Train Ferry 'Baikal' is in the foreground and the funnels of 'Angara' can just be seen behind.

Just a short walk from the restored station building, a sturdy-looking blue and white ferry was tied-up at the quay. Once the 'Golden Eagle' guests were all on board, the ferry headed out of the harbour. Almost all the wood of the original construction has gone, but the general layout of the jetties remains as built for the 'Baikal' and the 'Angara'. Our destination, Listvyana, lay on the other side of the broad Angara River but we cruised the long way round. As the shore receded and the swell increased, it was difficult to remember that we were on a lake, not the sea. As we approached our destination, we passed a Kometa 15 Hydrofoil (but not moving fast enough to left up properly on the 'Foils'). I gather this is a service between Irkutsk and Lake Baikal. BaikalNature have placed a video showing this craft here. Regular readers may remember that on my trip to Saint Petersburg last year, I became quite used to travelling around on Russian hydrofoils (my posts on that trip are here).

As we approached the quay, it seemed clear that Listvyanka is a resort destination and there were quite a few people around. There was a cafe on the shingle beach, a wandering singer playing the guitar and one young couple, well wrapped up against the wind off the Lake, determing to set on the shingle.

Listvyanka Beach.

A coach was waiting for us and we were soon taken to the nearby Lake Baikal Museum. Anna took us round the exhibits and explained just how special Lake Baikal is. There was also a large aquarium and captive Baikal freshwater seals which I'm no longer happy with. I realise such places are the only opportunity for most people to see these creatures but, nonetheless, it worries me.

The 'Golden Eagle' guests then split into two groups - one visited the open-air Museum of Wooden Architecture but, despite my interest in architecture, I went with the smaller group for a short hike up Chersky Mount. It was an easy hike and, although we couldn't see long distances, we had a splendid view of Port Baikal and our waiting train.

Port Baikal, viewed from Chersky Mount, on the opposite bank of the Angara River.

Although, being summer, there was no snow, the ski-lift was nevertheless running so most of us decided, for variety, to descend using the ski-lift. By the time we were back in our People Carrier, it had started to rain so we were not sure what would happen to the advertised Barbeque Dinner.

The location was a resort village in wooded country quite near the Angara River. Although food, including the local Omul fish, was being cooked outside, we ate in a large wooden conservatory with a long table and benches to sit on. The Omul, related to salmon, is only found in Lake Baikal and I found its delicate flavour preferable to salmon.

It was a very jolly meal but Tatiana had one more surprise for us. On our last evening in Mongolia we had missed the advertised folk performance in Ulaan Baatar through being stuck in a traffic jam. So she had engaged a Buryat man and woman in traditional dress to sing and play for us. Both artists were good but I think the versatility of the man (pipe, fiddle, jaw's harp and 'mouth music') 'blew us away'.

The musical concert at Listvyanka finished a splendid meal.

In a very mellow mood, we rejoined the road transport for the short journey to the nearest ferry jetty, where our ferry was waiting to take us back to Port Baikal. As we approached the quay, we had the welcome sight of the familiar blue coaches of the 'Golden Eagle'.

Port Baikal, with the 'Golden Eagle' waiting to take us back along the Circum-Baikal Line to Slyudyanka.

As I re-joined our train, I noticed a modern diesel multiple unit waiting on the adjacent line, presumably part of the limited tourist service along this very special line. During the night, our train returned us to Slyudyanka after a very special day around Lake Baikal.

Photographs:-

The 'Golden Eagle' train.
Slyudianka Station, East Siberian Railway.
The Circum-Baikal Railway.
Plinthed 'Ea' Class at Polovina.
Port Baikal.
Circum-Baikal Railway Museum, Port Baikal.
Listvyanka, Lake Baikal.
Concert in Listvyanka.

References:-

'The Circum-Baikal Railway: A Concise Guide Book (3rd edition)' by A.K. Chertilov translated Ye. Luganskaya (Artizdat, Irkutsk) ISBN 978-5-93765-044-3.

[Additional material added 1st August 2012, 8th August 2012].

Into Russia

Saturday, 14th July 2012

The rather austere station building at Sukhe Baatar.

Despite being late to bed last night and losing an hour through changing time zones, it was an early start for we were asked to have our documents ready for inspection by the Mongolian authorities at 7.0 a.m. I got up and dressed just after six and ordered black tea with milk and sugar which arrived with an assortment of biscuits. We arrived at Sukhe Baatar around right time, having travelled 380 km from Ulaan Bataar overnight. We had made various stops stops at passing loops to allow trains travelling in the opposite direction to pass. The cabin attendant had collected my Mongolian Customs form and a pleasant uniformed girl from immigration collected my passport and Departure Card.

Once formalities had been completed, we were invited to the restaurant car for breakfast. In addition to a cold buffet, there were a number of hot items cooked to order. I selected porridge and a plain omelette, accompanied by more black tea with milk and sugar and a glass of orange juice. During the meal, a heavy ‘thump’ seemed to indicate that we were changing engines (the Russian autocoupler requires reasonable force to engage correctly). After a short delay, the train moved off, with a number of soldiers and railway staff dotted along the platform standing rigidly at the salute.

The impressive station building at Naushki.

We covered another 23 km to the first Russian station, Nauski. This time, my passport was collected by a uniformed male immigration officer. After a delay, the stamped passports were returned to the Cabin Attendant and we were then allowed to wander on the platform. By the time I emerged into the sunshine on the wide platform, the locomotive which had brought us into the station was long gone and it was some time before a large diesel electric locomotive (half of a twin-section design) backed onto the train to take us forward towards Ulan Ude. Shortly after we set off, lunch was served in the restaurant car and the pattern of travel on the 'Golden Eagle' started to become established. After the meal there was a lecture by our expert speaker Professor George Munro.

The 'Golden Eagle' train leaves Shaluty.

About 200 km beyond Naushki, we stopped at the wayside station of Shaluty, where we were to disembark for a coach trip. I found it a little disconcerting to watch our train (with all our possessions) depart for Ulan Ude without us. We boarded a modern coach and drove through a mainly rural area to the 'Old Believers' village. The Russian Orthodox Church suffered a schism around 1666 when Patriarch Nikon attempted to introduce certain liturgical changes. Those who renounced these changes became 'Old Believers' ('Torbogatai') and they retain their separate identity today. There's a useful 'Wikipedia' article on the 'Old Believers' here.

The 'Old Believers' village we arrived at had a long main street lined with gaily-painted wooden dwellings decorated with fretwork. We were met by one of the villagers in the colourful traditional dress and introduced to a similarly-attired elderly lady who invited us to look around her house and garden. I'm always a bit self-conscious in these situations poking around peoples' houses and taking pictures but it's invariably interesting.

This 'Old Believer' invited us into her home.

Next, we walked a short distance to a museum housed in a former schoolroom which is seeking to preserve artefacts from the traditional lifestyle which is increasingly threatened by modern developments. They've amassed a wonderful collection of objects which jostle for space and kept us intrigued for some time as the Priest's son explained a little about the objects in Russian which was then translated into English for our benefit.

The museum was crowded with exhibits.

We crossed the road to visit the village church where the twinkle-eyed bearded priest described some of the history of the 'Old Believers' including that during the Communist era, again in Russian with translation.

With plenty to ponder, we were led back across the road to a community centre or church hall where a splendid meal had been laid out on long tables for us. After the meal, we were entertained by singing and then a couple from our party, Kari and Ed, were 'volunteered' for a marriage celebration. It was all very good-natured and we were sorry to say goodbye to our hosts and board our waiting coach.

Villagers entertained us with their singing.

The coach then drove us to Ulan Ude where we hoped our train would be waiting. We paused biefly in the Central Square to see some of the municipal buildings and a huge bust of Lenin before driving to the railway station where our train was obediently waiting in the late evening sun. Within an hour, we were on the move, travelling west, for a leg of 338 km whilst we slept.

Photographs:-

The 'Golden Eagle' train.
Sukhe Baatar Station.
Naushki station.
Shaluty station.
'Old Believers' Village.
Ulan Ude.
Ulan Ude station.

Additional material added 1st August 2012.

Leaving Ulaan Baatar - The Reality

Friday, 13th July 2012

Before losing my internet connection, I gave a brief note of what was to happen.:-

“I suspect I may be out of touch after this post, so I'll briefly tell you what we're doing today, our last day in Ulaan Baatar. We should visit the Gandantegchinlen Khiil, a Buddhist Monastery then tour the Museum of Mongolian National History. Next, we travel out of the city to Terelj National Pak where we should have lunch. On our return to the city, we may have some free time (it all depends upon the traffic) before our final meal in Ulaaqn Baatar at the 'Square' Restaurant where a Folk Performance is offered. Later this evening we will board our 'Golden Eagle' train for Moscow and travel towards the Russian border overnight”.

Not being very superstitious, I hadn’t given serious thought to the date being Friday the thirteenth. Oh well.

The day started well enough with breakfast at the Kempinsky. Tatiana, the Tour Manager, had suggested we took a reasonable breakfast as we were unlikely to get lunch until around 2.0 p.m. Our main luggage was being taken straight to our train so I just had with me a small rucksack with my computer and the usual bits and pieces.

The Main Temple at the Gandantegchinlen Khiil Monastery

We drove through the city to visit the large Buddhist Monastery called Gandantegchinlen Khiid. The Tibetan form of Buddhism was introduced into Mongolia in past times, largely for political reasons by the rulers. In the last century, when Mongolia became a Socialist State, religion was ruthlessly crushed. Monasteries and temples were razed to the ground and tens of thousands of religious people were killed. It is only since the peaceful revolution in the 1990s that freedom of religion has been restored. A survey found that 53% of the population claimed to be Buddhist and most of the rest had no religious belief. All other religions make up just a few per cent of the total. Looking at the number of Mongolians visiting the Monastery to worship confirmed that Buddhism is still an important force. There are prayer wheels everywhere around the site and in the main temple, large and small but, in general, they were not built to the high standard I’d admired in Bhutan. The architecture is generally traditional Chinese Style, similar to the Bogd Khaan Palace Museum we’d visited the day before.

Most of the buildings were of wooden construction but the main temple had massive main walls of brick, similar to buildings I’d seen in China. The huge Buddha figure in the main temple is a replacement for the earlier one destroyed by the Communists. The walls of the Main Temple were crammed with tall shelving carrying perhaps thousands of individual Buddha figures. I went into the teaching room where a number of young monks were chanting religious texts. Large bookcases held important books in the old style of rectangular pages with the text hand-written.

A huge new temple is under construction. I would have happily spent longer in the precincts of the Monastery but we moved on by bus to the Museum of Mongolian National History where we spent a little over an hour. There was still a festival atmosphere in the adjacent Shukhe Baatar Square and a brass band was playing outside the Museum for a time.

View of Shukhe Baatar Square from the steps of the Museum of Mongolian National History.

We set off again in the bus to leave the city and drive to the Terelj National Park. In normal circumstances, the journey would have taken 90 minutes but it was clear that these were not normal circumstance. We moved very slowly for kilometre after kilometre until we feared we’d never get to our destination. We did arrive, but almost two hours late and, by this time, the weather had turned wet. Near the entrance to the National Park there were lots of holiday chalets and people just camping on the banks of the river, either in tents or rather smart-looking camper vans.

Holiday chalets near the entrance to Terelj National Park.

A few kilometres further on, we turned onto a dirt road with signs advertising a number of holiday camps at various distances from the junction. The first camp was a number of holiday chalets with steeply-pitched roofs, reminiscent of those I’d seen in the Carpathian Mountains during my trip to the Ukraine.

The second camp had a number of almost-traditional Ger structures. I say almost-traditional because they were rather well-appointed to suit tourist tastes, built on a flat concrete base with fairly elaborate doors and a glazed ‘lantern roof’ to admit more light. Our driver parked the bus on the wet grass(it had been raining earlier but had virtually stopped by the time we trooped off the bus) and we made our way first to a modern toilet block and then to a very large Ger which was arranged as a restaurant. There was a table for 10, a table for 8 and two tables set for 4 diners. A number of tables remained unused so they can cater for larger groups when necessary. Each table had a white tablecloth with cutlery and glasses laid out and the high-backed chairs had white covers. The wooden structure supporting the large tent cover was extensively carved and elegant (electric) chandeliers hung from the roof. Once our group had settled into our impressive surroundings, an enjoyable meal was served by the friendly staff.

We had lunch in this large, well-appointed Ger.

By the time we emerged from the Ger to board the bus, the rain had stopped, but it remained overcast. Next, we were to visit the traditional Ger of one of the nomadic farmers. We drove to a semi-permant village with a number of Ger and wooden stockades forming a series of yards. Baggi got off the bus to enquire the whereabouts of the farmer we were to visit, to be told by one of the villagers that he’d moved. Having obtained directions, we moved about 1 km to an isolated Ger with a number of horses nearby. The horses were either ‘hobbled’ on the front legs by the head rope or the headrope was ‘hitched’ to a wire run between two vertical posts.

The farmer emerged from the Ger, wearing his traditional hat, and invited us inside. Various seating units which can double as beds were arranged against the curved tent wall, alternating with various storage chests, all decorated in traditional, painted designs. The ground was covered by a series of carpets (this Ger was erected directly onto the grass, as is traditional) and the effect was spacious and inviting. We were offered the traditional drink – mare’s milk encouraged to ferment. The alcohol level depends on the type of grass and Baggi suggested that, at that time of year, it would only be around 3% but could be over twice that strength. The drink looked like milk and was served in bowls (made in China). It had a slightly sour taste with a slight ‘kick’ and, to my surprise, I emptied my bowl. Some of our group declined.

The farmer offered us 'Kumis' (fermented mare's milk).

After discussing the nomadic life of these people, continually moving to new pastures to feed the horse, sheep and goats that they tend (with Baggi translating), we moved outside to admire the horses and some of us elected for horse riding.

I was quite surprised that we were provided with riding hats and gaiters before being allocated to our mounts. I had a grey. Mongolian horses are quite small but, as we saw in the Naadam horse racing, can be fast. I’m afraid our hosts led us on foot by the headropes so we didn’t have a chance to ‘explore the envelope’ but all the horses were sure-footed and willing so we had a very enjoyable ride back to the Camp where we’d taken lunch.

Our group of riders about to set off.

I’d have been happy to spend much longer here but, after a chance to visit the Camp washroom, we were back on the bus and headed off towards Ulaan Baatar.

We paused at one of the stone ‘cairns’ we’d seen in various places around Mongolia, called 'Ovoo'. A vertical wooden pole is provided, which you walk round three times in a clockwise direction, throwing a small stone towards the pole, producing the cairn effect. Various flags and pieces of fabric were tied to the pole and other offerings had been added to the stone heap. I was intrigued by a miniature prayer wheel happily spinning on its own, electrically-driven probably from a small photo-voltaic panel in the base. Later, I saw the same thing mounted on the dashboard of cars. I was reminded of the water-driven prayer wheels in Bhutan.

Before leaving the National Park, we stopped at this 'Ovoo'.

As we continued, the traffic became heavier and by the time we were about 20 km from the city, it stopped completely. A few drivers continued happily using the wrong side of the road, others drove along the verge and the more adventurous just headed off across the adjacent fields, either picking out existing tracksw or starting new ones. Whilst there were some ‘off-road’ vehicles, most of the cars attempting these manoeuvres were standard saloons. We’d come to a standstill on a bridge over a fairly wide stream so vehicles attempting to by-pass the jam had the problem of crossing the stream which they solved by driving down a steep bank, fording the stream and powering up the opposite bank before bumping out of sight ahead of us.

When roads become gridlocked, Mongolian drivers are quite happy to go 'off-road'.

Our problem was that we had no information about when we would move. A few police cars had come from behind us with their red and blue lights on and overtaken us on the wrong side of the road but they were never seen again. Our 50-seater coach was too large to attempt any off-road driving so we just sat there, devoid of information. As time went on, we became more anxious. We'd been promised dinner in Ulaan Baatar before joining the 'Golden Eagle' train for our epic journey, but that clearly would not happen. Baggi walked to a shop to provide some snacks for us and we already had plenty of bottled water.

Fortunately, Tatiana, the Tour Leader, had a working mobile and, in conjunction with the Ground Handling Agents in Ulaan Baatar, they came up with a solution. Two 'people carriers' were despatched from the city by a different route on the other side of the railway which ran parallel to us. They couldn't meet up with us because, although there was a road, it passed under the railway by a bridge too small for the people carriers (and, of course, far too small for the bus). The driver managed a fairly spectacular U-turn to reach the 'road' (more of a track) leading to this bridge and he managed to get within a couple of hundred yards of the bridge. By now it was dark and, following the earlier heavy rain, the track was partially flooded. But nobody complained as we trekked on foot to the bridge, illuminated by the headlights of the waiting 'people carriers' on the other side. We were divided up between the two vehicles and set off in convoy at speed on a twisting minor road which led us back to the city. We arrived at Ulaan Baatar station and, with some sadness, said goodbye to Baggi and our Mongolian friends.

Tatiana, of course, travelled on the train with us. Once we'd located our cabins, we were invited to the Restaurant Car for a rather belated dinner, in lieu of the meal which had been planned to take place in the city hours before. To our amazement, the train was able to depart on time at 22:50 local time. And so, our interesting time in Ulaan Baatar came to an end, with rather more of an adventure than we had expected.

Photographs:

Gandantegchinlen Khiil Buddhist Monastery
Pictures of Ulaan Baatar
Pictures around Ulaan Baatar
Terelj National Park

References:

'Guidebook to locales connected with the life of Zanabazar, First Bogd Gegeen of Mongolia' by Don Croner, Polar Star Press (ISBN 0-9779553-0-3). This book has a section on the Gandantegchinlen Khiil Monastery.
'History of Mongolia' by Baabar, Nepko Publishing.