Video: Into the Siberian Wild
Day 26, 8 September. It rained in the pitch-black night. I could imagine one could feel very, very alone out here. I did not allow that mindset and the next morning there was a beautiful sky. I did not look forward to the steep climb I passed some days ago. I discovered a path more at the beginning, which made the upward trail less steep. Turned right and went down, long stretch west, slow turn south and then around the corner to the right again. Could not find the right track around the corner, which made it very hard. Took the bow to the left, along loose rocks and along the hut. Not far away from the hut I took advantage of my previous camping spot, cleared from branches and little thorny roses.
Sign of the autumn at Yanchuy River
Day 27, 9 September. To prevent walking through the burned taiga I crossed the river early to the left. That turned out to be a good choice. I could not image the hunting path went over the north side because of a steep cliff along the water. The path would probably go over it. I reached the deep river cross quite quickly and at 16:00 I was really happy to reach the kayak and extra food. The fresh clothes had dried well under the roof of the hammock.
I was very excited that I had still a month left! I looked forward to go into the Kodar Mountains in the northeast. To get there I would have to peddle back to the Delakory bridge, hitch-hike to Novo Uyan and take the train to Taksimo. There I would peddle the downstream part of Muya River and hop into the Vitim northwards.
Nymphalis antiopa, ‘Rouwmantel’ in Dutch
Day 28, 10 September. I was not sure if I could peddle down all the way safely. The water was cold and some parts required serious attention. First I brought the almost emptied kayak to the problematic fast stream about two hundred metres downstream, where I left the boat ashore. Then I returned through the forest along the river to get the backpack. I got stuck at shallow part of the Yanchuy, and reached a fast current along a high cliff, gaining in confidence.
After a downstream voyage with spectaculair scenery I managed to almost reach the bridge at Delakory. The distance had taken five days paddling upstream. By accident the place I choose to stay overnight, was also the choise of two huntsmen, all caryying big guns. I found it impressive to meet guys who hunt and fish for their job. They were about fourty and fifty years old, married, lived in a town called Uayan and even camped when the temperature reached minus fifty below zero. Their strategy was to put huge chuncks of wood on the fire and sleep in the open air.
Day 29, 11 September. That night a strong wind passed the hills, almost opposite to the place where I was blown away about two weeks ago. But now I had taken my precautions by placing the tent on a sheltered spot. In the morning the sun broke through with some effort, enough to fill the battery for the videocamera. The first and second curves had some powerfull shivers. After meeting a friendly Russian who offered my something to eat and drink – as usual – I arrived at the Delakory bridge at about 17:00. It took two hours to fold the kayak into the packing mode. It took so long because I didn’t pay attention to the procedure, and because it was hot, full of blood sucking insects. Because it was already late I decided to put up the tent and sleep near the bridge.
Day 30, 12 September. In the early morning I had to wait a while for a hitch – hike and got some beer and a dried fish from a couple heading the other way. A Lada brought me to novo Uyan with all the gear at the roof – rack. At the station I met a guy who had made a gruelsome video with a bear. The bear suffered in a trap, and then they shot it. A friend of him asked why I was doing this trip alone, with a certain gesture as if any acitivity undertaken alone is worthless. I put up my shoulders to underscore the sillyness of his question.
At 14:00 I took the train to taksimo. The bear man travelled with me for a while. Reaching the mountain pass I tried to open the double glass window, when it cracked. Blood immediately dripped from my arms. The whole crew of the train came to help with a large first aid kit and solved the problem nicely, I must say. At about 17:00 an elderly lady got in the train. I asked it there was a hotel in Taksimo, but I ended up at her place, after I had paid a sum of money for the broken window.
Day 31, 13 September. The next day I bought three weeks of extra food, in several shops hidden in the concrete soviet buildings. It was scattered with little gardens, ocassionaly with a cow and a goat. I bought an extra memory stick for the camera and peniciline in case the wound would get nasty. Conversation with Sara went with a pen and paper. Sara tried to convince me that it was too dangerous to undertake the next stage of my trip. She was really, really concerned and got her doughter into the club of objectors to my plan.
The doughter, about twenty years old, had a taxidriver as a boyfriend, who brought me to the Muya river. I believe he tried to rip me off, which I told him, and asked to bring me at a safer spot along the river. I didn’t want to meet boozed Russians whilst camping and building up my kayak. I found a good tentspot in the nearby forest, and in the evening a car drove around, with a girls voice jelling my name. I checked if I had maybe forgotten something and undertook no action.
Day 32, 14 September. The first peddle strokes at Muya River. Turned out to be shallow with pebble banks only at the first two turns. Passed the wooden cabins at the south shore, two big turns and then along a narrow mountain range. There would be no boats until Ust Muya. Bright autumn colours. The weather improved and I found a terrific camping spot. Flat, sheltered, forest floor (now sand) and close to the kayak.
Day 33, 15 September. The neoprene trousers and shoes were frozen stiff in the morning. A pretty meandering stream along a small mountain range at the north, pine grown islands, splitting creeks that come together only after long distance, high river banks made of white sand. A pretty view on the larger mountain ranges north and south.
The shallow sandbanks required careful navigation. Getting stuck imposed the risk of being pushed over by the shallow stream, while walking over the banks was no option. I would immediately sank to the knees and further, because the freshly deposited sand was saturated with water. Something I already experienced the first day at the Angara River. Getting ashore was not easy and it took about two hours to find a tent place just before dark. At night I heard a machine like noise far away, contrasting to the utter silence.
High water levels, exhibit nr. A
Day 34, 16 September. The third day at River Muya. My aim was to reach the Vitim River today. I passed the small town of Ust Muya, then choose a deeper and narrower creek to the left. It was not easy to know if I had already reached the Vitim, until I entered another wide stream that was flowing to the left. I had reached Vitim River! It took a few hours to peddle a very large curve to the east over mirror like water. To the south, the eastern part of the Muyskiy Range and the Shaman Mountain could be clearly seen. I camped on a very large sandbank near the willow bushes to be sheltered from the wind. Ripples in the fine sand had already made me a little suspicious.
Day 35, 17 September. I woke up from a distant thunder stroke. A hissing sound, sand was moving quickly. Rain started bombarding the tent and the wind made it shake violently. Nevertheless I quickly fell asleep again. When I woke up in the morning a layer of fine sand had covered everything inside. Large thunderclouds had gathered at the southern mountain range. I went around a large curve and peddled north against wind that was picking up, creating considerable waves. Passed the mound of the Kuanda River that meanders all the way up into the mountains at the northeast, and went along three houses called Nelyaty. At the end of the day I had come close to edge of a huge area of mountains in the north. Camped on a dry riverbed of hardened mud, which contained many footprints of birds and little mammals.
There is always light above
View to the north
Day 36, 18 September. Today I had in mind to reach the Param Gorge, where the Vitim leaves the valley behind to head straight into the mountains. The water was very calm and there was no wind. I reached the entrance at about four. The river, still very quiet, entered the mountains. A small curve, the stream became wider. Ahead was the high slope of a mountain that would lead the river to the right. A rushing sound could be heard, although one had to listen carefully. I went to the other side of the river to reach the high sandy shore. Nearing the shore I was surprised by the speed of the water. I was almost being sucked into a narrow stream that would meet the steep wall in twenty meters, and curve sharply to the right to instantly become a fourth category monster.
For me there was only one option: tomorrow I would carry all my gear over land to more tranquil waters. It was late in the afternoon when I went up the sandy wall into the forest. Found a good place to stay overnight, and a path that would lead along the rapids. A scout of the path led me through the forest over a clear track, mud pools, a dry riverbed. I went left, and over large rocks to see the rapids from nearby.
Little verticals
Day 37, 19 September. I estimated it would be about one kilometer to reach more quite water on foot. I started with carrying the kayak and went straight where I had turned left yesterday. It took a while to find the entry to the tranquil water, over the large pebble stones and a large sandy shore. Here I left the boat to get the backpack.
When I returned there was one more go for the extra supplies, when I noticed a little motorboat that went upstream the river to clear some fishing nets. I did not dare to leave the boat and the backpack alone, so I waited until the two fishermen had cleared the nets, which took about an hour. One of the Russians invited me to join them camping on the other side of the river, and left to the other side. I felt there was no choise then to do the third and last walk for equipment. I packed the boat, went into the water and saw the Russians waving to me, so I went to meet them. Again there were half cut tomatoes with salt, cucumbers, onions, cooked fish and ofcourse vodka, placed on a wooden improvised table. The atmosphere was cheerful. When it was late I put up my tent, the older man objected and said I would sleep in the back of the truck, which seemed a bad idea to me. After one hour of talking with hands and feet he gave up, and watched me pitching the tent from beginning to end. He became more and more convinced about my idea, especially because he noticed the tent, the sleeping matress filled with down and the lightweight cooking equipment. It seems this equipment rarely reaches Russian hands.
Day 38, 20 September. That morning my head felt like a pancake. We had breakfast together, and meanwhile I investigated the guns that two of the men showed. I was impressed. Not much later I went into the water to continue the downstream route. I met two of the Russians not much further. They told that, as a rule, I should stay at the left side of the river as much as possible, to go around most of the whitewater. Meanwhile large mountains showed up in front of me and on the left, with fresh snow on top. The weather was drizzly with strokes of sunlight now and then.
Then, at a certain point, the river bent to the left, and a smaller stream divided to the right. This stream seemed to narrow and shallow, so I choose the main current. I heard a loud rushing noise, which I believed was just the water hitting the high walls at the left hand side. But the water went faster and then, suddenly, gathered into a narrow stream, a trap I could not escape anymore. The white waves in the corner turned out to be much larger than expected. The kayak slid to the side because of its length and smashed into a huge wave. I was still straight up, but my heart was beating like crazy. There came another one, even larger. With a reflex of my right paddleblade I could just keep up straight. I had succeeded and entered calmer water, but my body was shaking. I had entered the coordinates of this rapid in my GPS device, but completely forgot to take notice. Dumb, dumb.
Day 39, 21 September. I took off with good hope of a sunny day, but five minutes later a little blizzard came rushing down the mountains. The lack of a dry suit made me feel quite uncomfortable. There were some strong shivers and capsizing in the water would cause serious problems. Another blizard came over just when the river picked up speed and, and the strong wind almost blew the solar panel from the deck of the kayak. To keep it on the deck I had to paddle straight agains te wind, which meant I was not able to reach more quiet water. At the same time the wind kept me in the wild side of the river. I was already rather exausted when reaching a camping site at a level spot, a little valley where a river rushed into the Vitim. I found a hut, which I didn’t care to open, prefering the warmth of the tent with the safe warmth of the stove. In the evening the temperature already dropped to minus five.
Day 40, 22 September. It had been three days ago since I left the Param rapids behind. I was on my way to the Oron Lake. The first ten kilometres the river was calm. A large mountain showed up in the north. At an Island in the middle of the stream I turned right to pick up some speed. I passed a steep mountain range at the left hand side. The river split into equal sized streams with a large Island ahead. I checked the map to be certain. I had reached the point where to the left the Vitim continues northwards, and to the right the river gathers water directly from the Oron Lake. Both streams would meet again about ten kilometres north.
The clear water that gave entrance to the lake was shallow and, as it turned out, flowed with a high speed. I took quite some effort to peddle upstream for a considerable stretch, being careful not to hit the blades on the large pebbles. It was about three when I reached the sandy shore at the edge of the forest. Sheltered from the chilly wind I put up the tent on a nice level surface. Here I would refill the large backpack with supplies for a week, so that for a whole week everything I needed – gear, food, fuel for the stove – was in one bag, stowed in an easy to reach compartment of the kayak. A routine I had been repeating for many weeks.
Heading to Lake Oron
Day 41, 23 September. Large flakes of wet snow kept me inside the tent. Without a wetsuit it would be a bad idea to go up the lake. I organised my food, slept, and read a bit.
Day 42, 24 September. Early in the morning I cheered the clear blue sky. Yesterday wet snow showers forced me to stay in the tent. The sun was shining over the tops of the mountain range in the west. I had played with the thought to go east over the lake, meanwhile looking for a mountain to walk up and to leave the kayak behind. Bright green water plants hindered progress in the shallow water. Facing a head wind I reached a sheltered bay with fresh bear tracks on the muddy shore. Went round the steep slope to notice that the curve of the earth hided the far eastern shore under water. I realised that the two sounds of thunder I had just heard from far away, may very well be little earthquakes as there where no clouds, and it was followed by ripples in the lake.
I followed the cliffs to the left. A tricky swell rocked the boat although there was little wind. A Russian had warned me not to peddle all the way to the eastern shore as the wind could pick up severely. I imagined the waves could easily become spooky and dangerous so near the rocky cliffs. About half way I reached a pretty shore. Tall trees stood at the sandy beaches. Little streams hasted to join the lake. Dead trees had piled up in the deep clear water. It took another two hours to reach the mound of the Sygygta River. A stiff breeze came from the deep valley that lay behind.
A good start of the day
Under water world
Day 43, 25 September. The large dome shaped mountain showing up three days ago, had drawn my attention like a magnet. I imagined to aproach the top, with a widening view on the high peaks of the Kodar Range, a huge mountainous area with a thousand kilometers of deep taiga valleys. I would try to reach the first slopes by peddling upstream the Sygygta River, which has its source in Central Kodar about hundred fifty kilometers southeast.
I crossed the very shallow dead arm of the river and went over the lake again to reach the mouth of the Sygygta. The swell and the back wind pushed me at the sandy exit of the river and further upstream. Walked along two shallow rapids until, before the third rapid, I left the kayak behind. I went for a scout into the valley to the right, which seemed quite near. I still had not reached the entrance of the valley after an hour of walking along the edge of a slope, through dense bush and over rocks covered with thick moss. I decided to return.
On the way back my eyes where cached by colored stones in a little stream. At about five I reached the lake again. I felt lucky the wind had calmed down. It took an hour peddling along the steep cliffs to reach the valley south from the lake. Went ashore on the edge of the lake, as the mounding streams were too fast and shallow to enter by boat. Moose tracks came from a nearby birch forest that turned out to be a good place to stay for the night. Tomorrow I would walk into the valley to find an even better off track route to the dome mountain. At least, on the roadless map.
Coloured moss on a rock
Day 44, 26 September. I carried the kayak into the forest, hung the extra food in the tree and started walking over a dry riverbed where I imediately got caught by a piece of quicksand. I continued for a considerable stretch over round and colorfull rocks not far from the river. I hoped the weather would clear up, heading towards the slopes of the dome shaped mountain. The river was glacier blue. I was making good progress although the riverbank was steep, which forced me to walk through the forest. On occasions there was dense bush and swampy surface to walk over. There were only scattered traces of an animal track. In the sand there was the track of a moose, and more upstream the footprint of a bear. Before a dense willow bush I decided to put up the tent. Meanwhile the drizzle had turned into rain.
Shining lamp on a dead tree
Day 45, 27 September. More frequently the riverbanks became steeper, so I needed to go inland to make any progress along the river. I didn’t care to wear my rainclothes, so after a while I was soaked because of the wet leaves and branches. I reached the point where a smaller river entered the main river. To my discontent I discovered a very unleveled gorge with steep walls of about ten meters. There was no way I could continue. I went more upstream the smaller river to see if I was able to cross it, but the narrow valley was a little gorge itself, surrounded by agonising pine bushes.
More uphill the pine bushes became higher, with sturdy branches I was unable to push away from me. There were large and loose rocks, grown with a thick layer of moss. I could have broken my legs a hundred times. My foot slid into a hole, I lost balance and tried to grab a branch that broke immediately. Here I was, hundreds of kilometers from civilisation, soaked to the skin, and pushed to the floor by my own backpack. When this happened a second time, I decided to call it a day, to go back to my previous camping spot. Also this time the Siberian mountains would not let me explore their world: Yuri – Siberian mountains: 0 – 2.
Day 46, 29 September. I walked back through the forest, over sandbanks and the slippery large pebbles. Navigation in the many dry riverbeds was not easy. Finally the lake was closeby. The food was still hanging in the tree, and the boat was also still there. I remembered a book of Jack Vance, the Crazy planet of Chay, where a man is dropped on a large planet and tries hard to find a spaceship to go back to earth. Without the kayak I would not get back to the civilised world.
Day 47, 30 September. I carried the kayak to the lake, filled it with gear and went off on my way back to the Vitim. Paddling along the south shore there was a considerable swell from the changing wind. Taking advantage of some sheltered bays I reached the shallow mound of the lake at about four. From the wooden house I had already seen at the way outward, came smoke from the chimneys. The house had a satellite disc on the roof and it was well painted as if someone had really put some effort. People where sitting outside and one or two of them made gestures to get ashore. Among them was a woman.
She went away for a walk into the house when Yura, as he presented himself, draw a bottle of vodka from inside his jacket. ‘General’ he pointed to the empty seat, mimicing the stripes on the shoulder with two fingers. The men were laughing and making jokes and before she came back the bottle slid into the jacket, which repeated several times. Later I understood that the woman was the head of customs office for the administrive district of Irkutsk, which I had just entered from the automnous republic of Buratya. I was strongly advised to sleep inside the house because of the fresh bear tracks, but escaped the unbearable heat to sleep in the adjoining shelter.
Autumn Oron Lake
Day 48, 1 October. Today the head of the district, two biologists, and Yura and Alex (who lived in the same town, but had nothing to do with it) would go downstream the Vitim with their motorboats to Bodaybo. The two male officers would stay, living here all year round even in the mids of winter when the temperature reaches -50 degrees Celcius.
I went up very early in the morning to be on the water before the crew would come into action. But one of the biologists was already awake and told it was not allowed to peddle in the nature reserve on my own. They would bring me forty kilometers downstream to Amalayk at the border of the reserve, where I could continue. I fiercely objected. It would take three hours to dismantle and build up the kayak again. And what was the point? The other biologist had also woken up and mimiced handcuffs. When I mimiced hands that held two bars, he nodded and I stopped objecting.
At ten I was brought inside the main room of the hut to fill in the forms. The male and female officer had a quarrel about how to interpret my profession and the purpose of my trip. Meanwhile all the others had entered the room, a little unpatient. ‘They mean to say why are you here!’ Alex said and everybody laughed. The male officer mumbled and by way of protest, threw the form in the plants at the windowsill. At twelve we stood at the frozen shore were to my discontent, Yura and Alex were placing the empty kayak crosswise on their small motorboat. ‘Njet, njet! Kaput!’ I jelled. ‘Only forty kilometers’ Yura said. ‘Njet hundred meters!’ I replied but my complaints were of no use.
With great speed we went over the river, steering careful to prevent both ends of the kayak to hit the surface. We went ashore just before the dangerous Amalyk rapids and helped eachother to get the boats to more quiet water, almost stumbling over curious round holes in the rockplate, and said goodbye. Just before I reached Amalyk, a settlement of three houses, the river turned wild and I had to use great effort to stear the boat to the right to escape a rushing whitewater section.
Dinosaur – like footprints
Day 49, 2 October. In the morning the temperature reached minus twelve degrees Celcius. The weather was clear whith a pleasant shunshine. To reach the town of Bodaybo on schedule it was nescesary to peddle 250 kilometers in six days, which meant fifty kilometers each day. That would be easy if the river would keep its pace. From this point however the Vitim bends to the east without rapids or whitewater, away from the high Kodar range, until it mounds into the Lena River six hundred kilometers downstream. Also challenging was the two kilograms shortage of food because of a miscalculation. I camped high up a narrow sandbank, a littlebit nervous about possible winds from the south.
Subtile orange
Day 50, 3 October: The river went straight south for a long stretch, and then turned west. The clear nights had created a thin layer of ice where I wanted to get on land. A walk of about two hundred meters brought me to a good campspot that I cleared from knee high plants. The low sun had been unable to charge the batteries of the camera, so there are no pictures of the pretty area.
Day 51, 4 October. The river went north for about 40 kilometers. I passed a few wooden houses with the name Butuya. The weather was dull, with drizzle and the occasional snowflake. When I looked back the mountains of the central Delyun-Uranskiy Range were vagely visable. Behind a northern bend I stayed overnight. It seemed the autumn was nearing its end, so all in all it had lasted for about a week.
Day 52, 5 October. Sleet came down in heavy packs. Normally I would have stayed in the tent, but I had no other option than to reach Bodaybo today, because tomorrow at 13:00 an airplane would bring me to Irkutsk. A boat with two Russians came close by and one of them asked something I did not understand. The river made several interesting curves and meanwhile I met more Russians underway, asking me if I liked to drink. Yes, water, tea, coffee, I replied in my best Russian. At about five I reached the last curve and finally got a view on two cranes to the right side of the river, the harbour of Bodaybo. Reaching the town I had to find a place to get on land. I went some more downstream behind a little dam with a strong current.
A square building showed up, a shabby industrial building made of corrugated metal, standing on metal poles in the water. Three meters higher there was a little window. I yelled ‘hello!’ from the kayak. A man with a sigarette looked out. Our conversation was not the best, and he went back, I guessed, to what was his office. I went on land behind the building, where to my discontent the soil was extremely muddy. Walking over a small and simple bridge I tried to make further contact with the officer to ask if he could call Yura to pick me up. That was the deal he had made in the cabin at the Oron lake. After yelling for about five minutes, the man pointed me to the door enter the building. Inside a loud noise was produced be a large machine, which had something to do with the large pipes that came from the building, reaching the shore and going up the high riverbank.
Inside the officer called Yura who picked me up two hours later. He brought me to the only hotel of the town, a fancy hotel with a wirlpool and three visitors. They were sales people for the goldmining industry, a booming business in Bodaybo, and were interested to hear about my adventures. That evening I organised my gear for transport the next morning.
Day 53, 6 October. Dry snow was coming down. It was freezing. The keeper of the hotel brought me at the Airport, where I showed the ticket I had already bought. Surprised to see a westerner in these regions, the woman behind the desk asked how I got to Bodaybo. She was puzzled because of the answer and asked for a permission I did not have. At that moment Alexander came in and explained the whole story, and that we had met at the Oron lake. One of the officers couldn’t resist a broad smile, and after some more talking I was on to the little aircraft. The plain took off with a loud propeller noise, and while gaining speed, chuncks of mud hit the windows. After a flight of two hours the plain landed in Irkutsk.
When I left the airplane, two man with really large hats asked if I could come with them, where a woman of the immigration office began to ask questions. Why I could not show registration forms? Well because in two months, I only slept in registrated place once, in Taksimo. So where have you been sleeping? In a tent. The girl that helped her with translation looked up positively surprised. ‘I see you have got a business visa. Who has invited you into Russia?’ I had no answer to that. I just bought it in the Netherlands. After one hour of writing down the locations I visited every single day, she let me go, and helped me to bring my gear to a locker at the other side of the street nearby. She was impressed that I could speak french and we said ‘daswiedaanieja’, goodbye.
Map of the route, click to enlarge.
THE END
