8/3/2019 Common Sense and Whiskey, Chapter 1 - Lake Baikal,
Siberia
2/3
LAKE BAIKAL, SIBERIA
Like always, the eastern shore of Lake Baikal, the Sacred Lake,
the Pearl of Siberia,was shrouded in mist all the way up above the
peaks. Out on the water, in the morning,
the wind cast a determined late season chill.
The captain stood broad shouldered, square-faced and hale with a
crew-cut and aReebok jacket, and I liked him right away. Not a lick
of English, but he made us coffeewith water from a big painted
teapot below decks and offered pelmeni that we covetedbut politely
refused. Couldn't be sure we wouldn't be eating his own lunch.
Over the weekend the jetty at Listvyanka, a bedraggled tourist
town on the lake, hadbeen packed with trinket vendors and mongers
of exotic Siberian fish like omul andgrayling. On Monday morning it
stood deserted except for a drunken bottle recycler andthree or
four ships' mates and dockhands, loitering around stale cigarette
butts anddiscarded wrappers.
The new week crept up in autumnal dampness, the clouds in
stratified layers. Surveyingthe dock and our little ship, the
Poruchik, the Gilligan's Island theme edged into myhead. Ours was a
four-hour tour a simple west to east crossing of one of the
worldsgreat lakes.
The Poruchik, white, blue and red tricolor flapping above, was a
diesel-burning forty-footcruiser with two cabins below decks and a
separate galley and mess. Must have startedlife as a fishing boat
before they'd retrofitted it for charters, with benches, tables
andchairs, and there were liqueurs and vodka and a TV below.
Pine forest stretched around rocky outcrops up the hills along
shore. An hour after the
Poruchik set sail, we came alongside a settlement called Bolshoi
Koti, the last, tenuoushuman imprint, and then, north for miles of
lakeshore, lonely primeval forest reigned.
For some time the Poruchik aimed for a promontory that wasnt on
my map, and thenswung hard to starboard for the crossing. A low
blanket of gray from the west, fromIrkutsk, replaced the sunshine
of the last few days.
There were arrangements for later. Someone from Ulan Ude "will
meet you at Kluevka (aplace you are going to). This is definitely."
Made it seem like the Russian AutonomousRepublic of Buryatia was a
foreign country, not simply the other side of the lake. Andwho
knew, maybe it would be.
The temperature plunged when we swung away from the protection
of shore and intoopen water, and after an hour and forty minutes,
the mountains of the Ardaban Rangeon the far side of Baikal loomed
tantalizingly close, breaking above the clouds.
Back home, imagining exotic Siberia, I naively thought it would
be fun to "get out on thelake," like it would be fun to have a nice
piece of candy. But out in its gray middle, Baikalslapped me
humble, tossing and pounding the Poruchik to grab our attention and
insistthat it's a mighty inland sea. Finally, all you could do
onboard was just hold on.
8/3/2019 Common Sense and Whiskey, Chapter 1 - Lake Baikal,
Siberia
3/3
We ate a lunch of bread, tomatoes, sausage, cheese and onion
down below, and wishedwe hadn't.We went out for air.When I went
back down to clean up, bottles, plates andchairs littered the
floor.
Eventually we made the eastern shore, and found our way into
Ulan Ude with justenough time to walk to the parliament square
before dark. Kids giggled at a massive
Lenin head there. ("It looks really funny with snow on
top.")
The hotel still employed Soviet-era floor ladies, whose job it
was to mind your business.Ours drolly noted our extraordinary good
fortune. Because of environmentalconference with important
delegates (the lobby buzzed with them), theyd turned onthe hot
water.
The Lenin head at Ulan Ude.
So, a day at an old Soviet hotel in Ulan Ude and a quick trip
out to a Buddhistmonastery. Tomorrow wed climb onto a train to
Mongolia.Wed been on the road fordays. Just needed a little rest.We
were battered and a little worn as we slumped intochairs after
dinner and tuned in the ten o'clock news.
There was a sports report. It was interrupted by curious
pictures we didn't quiteunderstand - it was all in Russian, of
course - and then sports returned. Minutes laterthey interrupted
the sports again to show pictures of the second plane slamming into
theWorld Trade Center.
