14 and 15 August. In Severobaikalsk, a town at the north shore of the Baikal lake, I spent two days at the rescue office to ask formal permission for my plan: two month kayakking and walking into the wilderness of Yakutia, Siberia. If anything may go wrong, they are the people to get you with a helicopter. Andrej, the chief of the office, only spoke Russian. So it was good to have Yura, a Russian who spoke fluent English with an American accent, to help me with translation.
Andrej had great worries about the huge marshlands of the Angara valley where you easily get lost, the walk over the mountainpass, and gold searchers in the Kodar Mountains who seemed to have a bad reputation. After a long debate and a small change in the route, Andrej agreed under the condition that I would call him every Friday to pass my GPS location.
Day one, 16 August. The taxi driver dropped me at the riverside of the Angara, and headed back to Novo Uyan. I assembled the kayak in the shade of the bridge and packed my gear. A Russian man who had been fishing asked about my plan. ‘Kamikaze’ was the only word I understood clearly.
The first peddle strokes. It was warm and humid. I steered the boat against the slow stream. Ahead were electricity cables, children played at the bridge. The first signs of civilisation after the river had flown from its source two hundred kilometres north – east in the Mountains. I steered the boat to the south. The river seemed well willing to lead me along high trees, a curve, sandbanks, deeper and deeper into unknown territory.
Day two, 15 August. My aim was to reach the little creek that connects the Angara with Kotera River at the end of the day. Steadily I approached the GPS coordinate of the entrance of the creek, until I noticed to pass the coordinate at a distance of more than three kilometres. I was at the wrong river! I stopped at a sandbank. By chance the sandbank, and the sharp bend of this smaller river, could be easily traced on the satellite image stored in my camera. What went wrong? About 15 kilometres upstream I choose not to enter a seemingly insignificant stream to the left, which would however steadily grow into the main Angara over a length of about sixty kilometres. I used the last sunlight to peddle downstream the river that would mound into the Angara anyhow.
Day three, 16 August. At the other side of the river, a motorboat with three fishermen turned left into a stream somewhat hidden behind the trees. Passing along they greeted and offered a huge freshly caught pike. I politely refused and asked if the stream at the other side lead to the Kotera. They shook their heads; one of them pointed straight forward. I followed their advice and after some hours I wondered why it took so long to reach the Angara.
I discovered two typical shapes in the river that I could locate on the satellite pictures. I was on the Angara but way too much downstream. But where did I enter the Angara? Had I been on the Angara from the beginning? Had my GPS been inaccurate? And if so, where was the connection with the Kotera? I turned and went upstream. A little desperate I arrived at the sandbank in the sharp river curve at 19:00.
Day four, 17 August. I went downstream again with fierce strokes and reached my previous camping spot within little more than an hour. I had solved the puzzle. The hardly visible stream at the other side was the river Angara! With good spirit I went upstream the clear and shallow water. Finally I was heading towards the Muyiski range vaguely visible in the distance. It took a few hours to reach the unmistakable sands three hundred metres from the entrance of the connecting creek. I took a swim, called my mother.
An hour later I entered the narrow gateway and spent half of the way walking, sometimes dragging and pushing the kayak over the sandy riverbed. At about 18:00 I reached the end of the creek to discover that both the smaller and larger passage were blocked with wood. Two men who were picking berries in the forest helped me carrying the kayak and the gear over the little stretch of land, to the riverside of the Kotera.
Day five, 18 August. Lots of rain had come down last night, accompanied by loud thunder. Although the morning was rather clear it started raining after spotting a Crane bird later that day. In Dutch it is named Kraanvogel (tap bird), something to take literally. I noticed large spruce trunks that stood as spears in the riverbed, being pushed into the riverbed diagonally. Searching for a tent place on a sandbank I noticed many bear tracks. Tracks of a Glutton were at the other side of the river.
I found a good place near the next sandbank on the grass. Scary amounts of midgets though. A Vole mouse was rustling around my tent, pulling at the lines and trying to move the water bottles that lay outside for some reason. Probably gathering insulation materials for the coming winter. I captured the animal in a cooking pan to release it the next morning. I didn’t want it to keep me busy all night.
Day six, 19 August. Rain kept me in the tent the whole day. Reading, sleeping. I cached another vole. There were at least two of them. Accidently killed one when it pushed the lid on the pan to hard when it tried to escape.
Day seven, 20 August. The weather had improved somewhat. While packing the kayak I spotted a dear who went swimming over the river, about twenty meters away. A minute later I saw a wolf at about the same distance. We stared at each other. It had a brownish colour and was not very large. It had the appearance of a normal, pretty dog. I whistled. It looked at me as if rather surprised, and went on. Probably the wolf was following the dear, the dear trying to shake of the wolf by swimming over the river.
The progression that day was about 20 kilometres over the very meandering river. Sandbanks, trees, nice views on the northerly mountains were passing by. Found a camping spot in a rather dense forest high up the riverside. A drizzle came from the sky.
Day eight, 21 August: floating trees. The water level had risen a good meter. I returned to my tent and when I came back to put the camping stuff in the kayak, the water had risen even a half meter higher. The riverside was steep and the level area beneath was about navel deep. The water was rather cold while packing went slowly. Lost an elastic cord for using on the deck of my kayak. The river flowed quickly. A mass of water transported complete trees, pine, birch and large trunks of dead wood around the corner. Crossing the outer stream was a hazardous undertaking. It took timing and many fierce strokes to get to the inner side of the stream where the water flowed more gently.
Day nine, 22 August. I woke up when the sunshine warmed my tent. The boat lay crippled between some branches because the water level had fallen more than a meter. No damage though. I noticed the first pebble stones, a sign that the river flows more quickly. The next curve I could just make it to the inner bend of the stream, where another mounding river added some extra flow. If I would be drawn into the outher, faster stream, the tree roots and branches would shurely make an end to my trip.
I stopped at the next bend but decided to continue. I ended up wading through the strong current along a big tree. When I decided to go backwards again, the carrier that was attached on the deck of the boat got stuck behind a branch. The stream was now pushing the kayak sideways against the wood and I could just get things straightened to prevent severe damage. I decided to camp and make a fire against the midges and to save some fuel for the stove.
Day ten, 23 August. It would only take a few curves to reach Delakory. A name on the map, near the road alongside the first elevations of the Muyiski Mountains. I crossed a really fast flowing part of the river without any problems. But not much further a large tree blocked the inner bend of the stream. I peddled into sheltered water behind the tree chunks to take a look of what was around the corner. I decided that a river cross would imply red zone danger. The freshly deposited trees directed the stream with great force to the other side of the river where large amounts of soil plunged into the water and the occasional footloose tree, removed by the stream with a cracking noise.
At the pebble bank I organised my hiking gear with food for a week and left the kayak in the nearby forest. That afternoon I started a tiresome walk along the river, which had deposited piles of dead trees hundreds of meters into the forest.
Day eleven, 24 August. An animal track led me along the river to the track of a car. A little swamp, then the road went up into a dry pine forest with trees that seemed to have suffered wildfire. It was hot. The long sand track led me northwards to the main road. From there I walked to the two wooden houses named Delakory and reached the nearby bridge. A car track led to the river, I turned left to follow a narrow walking trail. The Search and Rescue Agency had informed me about this trail, a hunting path that goes along the Janshui River to the watershed of the Muya river, all the way along the Muya to end at the town of Taksimo; a length of three hundred kilometres. Walked three kilometres to find a camping spot near the river. I was struck by surprise to see a motorboat descending the river.
The first day of a long walk
Day twelve, 25 August. The day started with the ascent of a high cliff. Many larger and smaller tracks went upwards through the forest. Occasionally had to crawl under a tree that had fallen over the track. At the top of the cliff the lonely mountains near Yaksay in the south were clearly visible. At the other side between the trees I could see a glimpse of the enormous lowlands that stretch to the west. I went down and discovered I had gone too far north from the river. I went back, traced the correct path and turned left to continue.
Here I got in doubt. The river down the valley seemed accessible by kayak, while the trail would show some serious up and down elevation. My feet were hurting in the rubber boots, it was hot and my backpack felt extremely heavy. If I would peddle all the way back to Kyocera, I would have to pass the nearby road anyhow, to get back to Novo Uyan. I decided to return and camped at the beginning of the trail near the car track.
Walking along Kotera River
Day thirteen, 26 August. I went up early. It took an hour to get to the sandy car track, an hour to the animal trail and another hour to reach the kayak. Very glad to see everything was still there and untouched. Already anticipating a downstream route to Kyocera, I noticed the water level had dropped significantly. The stream had lost its aggression. I managed to reach the calmer side of the river. Hooray! I was still possible to reach the Janshui River all the way by kayak. In the afternoon I enjoyed the easy progression along the forest to the right, which had caused so much hardship. A full moon left the mountain edge, off to sail the evening sky.
Day fourteen, 27 August. A strong shiver made further progression impossible because of a fallen tree. I decided to go over the other side along a fan of mounding shallow rivers, pulling the kayak over one of these streams over an elevation of more than a metre. Walked and peddled a smaller river into the next curve.
Went along the first considerable waves I had seen during this trip, followed by another one. On and on it went, hopping in and out the kayak about twenty times. Mostly walking alongside the river, splashing through the shallow water over round slippery stones that caused a little glide at every step. I finally found a camping place in a dense forest above the steep riverside, about hundred meters before the bridge.
Day fifteen, 28 August. Early in the morning the usual strong wind rushed down the valley. Quickly I went to the river and discovered the solar panel, left loosely on a branch, had not been blown into the stream: what a relief! At the bridge I decided to wait for anyone to inflate the rubber tires of my carrier. A car stopped with four Russian tourists and two guides who fixed the problem with a foot pump. Around the first corner upstream I met them again. They invited me for lunch: bread, meat soup, vegetables and vodka.
At about 17:00 I was on my way again, a little tipsy of the vodka. Passed the cliff I climbed three days ago. Turned to the right and then a straight section of some kilometres. I noticed there was more water in the boat then usual, which I related to a ripping sound when I peddled along a rock an hour ago. I went ashore, took all the gear from the kayak and turned it up side down to discover a rip of at least five centimetres in the fabric. I smeared a layer of glue over the edges, which should hold. Being at a rather unlevelled location I hung the hammock between two birch trees in the forest just above the high riverside.
Day sixteen, 29 August. That night a thunderstorm headed towards my direction from the north – east. The wind already caused the roof of the hammock to move and enabled rain to get into the sleeping bag. I got my tent and found a place between the thin spruce trees. The trunks that lay scattered over the forest floor were a fearsome reminder of previous gusts from the same direction. By now the trees were moving violently. I had to get out of here before I was hit by timber. In the early twilight in the pouring rain, I got all my stuff in the kayak. To make things worse the valve of the sleeping mattress had trouble releasing the air and as such, slowing down the whole escape process. Managed to reach the sheltered other side of the river. Secured the boat at the rocks, put up my tent and fell into a deep sleep. Rain showers were passing over all day.
Day seventeen, 30 August. I went along the shallow mound of a small, rushing river at the left. After a curve to the left I walked along a low cliff. Peddled to the other side, walked over a rock plate quite easily, then peddled a rather long stretch towards the mountain near Yaksay. At the left hand side the forests were very transparent because they contained more trees dead than alive, struck by wildfire it seemed. Called my mother during lunch. Reached the place were another equally large river attaches to the Kotera. I found an ok camping spot on a sandbank. Nice surroundings while the weather improved. Although I felt warm just before sleeping, my legs were tingling from the regular walks in the cold water, something I had experienced for several days now.
Day eighteen, 31 august. Along the Yaksay mountain there was a strong white water section. Behind was a calm part with good peddling. Saw a tiger striped beetle I managed to get on camera. Entered a pretty landscape of small steep hills after a long curve. Caught a glimpse of a far away mountain peak in the Muyakanskiy Range, covered in snow.
Two men in rubber boats came down the river. Alexander and Alexander, they planned to sleep nearby hut. Not much more was left from the deserted mining settlement of Yaksay. Two fisher- / huntsmen were showing up. They had brought 2 x Alex all the way upstream the Kotera with a motorboat and came to say hello. In the evening the temperature came close to freezing for the first time.
Day nineteen, 1 September. I reached the Janshui early in the afternoon. The sky was blue. I walked along the fast rushing mound and peddled a shallow section. In the first sharp bend to the right the river showed comparable enthusiasm but now both sides of the river were going fast. I choose tot use the easy turning water at the right hand side just before the current, to go ashore and carry everything about twenty meters over land. Turned out to be a smart move, but behind the next curve I encountered another obstacle. This time I could not outsmart the strong current, again at both sides of the river. Went back a little and to the other side.
Carried everything up the steep and rather high riverside, the kayak included. Tomorrow I would start to walk to the source of the Muya River. I washed and changed clothes, and made a little fire to stove the three fish I got from 2x Alex. Accidently deleted all the pictures I made with the spare camera, including the beetle, 2x Alex and some good views of the Angara valley. Dumb, dumb.
Day twenty, 2 September. I spent some hours to organise the hiking gear and food for a week. I left the drying clothes to hang under the roof of the hammock. At about 17:00 I was on my way eastwards to find the hunting trail. The backpack didn’t feel that heavy and my feet were actually quite ok. Obviously it takes some time to regain the hiking strength and to become more ‘tritt sicher’ as they say in the Austrian mountains. A path led me to the river and stopped. I started a river cross, assuming it was part of the route.
Deeper than expected (as always) the river almost tackled my legs because I had not taken off my pants. With shaking legs I just got to the other side. A good path went further over an open area for a while and then went left into dens bushes and an open forest along the river. I called my uncle at the shore and found a tent place back in the forest.
Day 21, 3 September. The picture of the map I took at the Search & Rescue Agency showed the trail ran along the northern riverside. I therefore crossed the river; over a shallow spot I had already noticed the previous day. I could hardly find a track and went up a hill to steer clear of the dense bushes at the river edge. That I would regret. I went up the hill and immediately got to know Russian fire struck taiga. Fallen tree trunks three layers deep covered by plants, made progression extremely difficult.
After one hour I stood on the pebbles along the river again, sweating, having progressed maybe half a kilometre. I still had not overcome my mistake of two days ago, when I accidently deleted all the pictures I made with the spare camera. To make up for the loss I was even keener on all the pretty things around me. My eye fell on little stones in the clear water of the stream, while having my lunch. In a curve to the left I cached a large Rainbow trout. I forgot the take camera so I was back here an hour later. Camped at a nice spot close to the river.
Pebbles for lunch
Thymallus thymallus, ‘Vlagzalm’ in Dutch
Day 22, 4 September. Soon the mist around the hills was vanished by the sun. Passed a nearby hut with its doors open. The trail followed the right turn of the river along the steep, forested riverside and then a difficult section in the turn to the left. There I noticed wolf tracks in the sand, and bear tracks. Crispy fresh it seemed. A little cautious I went on over a clear track through open forest, turning more left to arrive at the river for a lunch break. From there the path went up and turned slowly to the right. Straight east far a while through Larch forest and then went up and up, until one could here the river rushing far down the valley. It went even higher meanwhile turning to the left. Had a great view on the most westerly mountain in the Muyakanskiy Range, measuring 2.700 metres. The downhill bend towards to the river was very, very steep. Went along stones, marsh and sands to find a place for my tent.
Fragile clouds over the Russian taiga
Day 23, 5 September. The aim was to get at the foot of the 2.700 high mountain I call the Watcher for the ease. A long walk through a swamp, to far from the river. Then along a wide right hand curve, from there straight towards the mountain. A hut, and to a point were two rivers come together. Took the one from the left but went back to the one that had come from the right. Walked through a typical streambed at the foot of the Watcher Mountain. Placed my tent just when it started to rain. Felt a bit unheimish especially because I just arrived in a new landscape.
Blue berries in the marshlands, where rubber boots saved my day
Day 24, 6 September. The tent was wet of the cold rain. Maybe a hundreds meters higher there was snow on the hills. I expected to have a rain day in the tent but Sun managed to get trough. Had to walk with the GT trousers and jacket the first time during this trip. Lost a part of the ski poles that I used. The path went along some steep hills and I decided to cross the river to find a more level animal track, which worked out. The river became more and more wild and almost impossible to pass. Should have stayed at the north slopes. I camped in a dry riverbed. Had been warned that it could be chilly out here and that turned out to be true. Seen the amount of food left (4 day’s) and the jungle like surroundings it seemed dangerous to push to the east too much. Came up with the plan to walk the mountain south of the Watcher Mountain and return to the kayak.
Near the mountain pass and Muya River
Day 25, 7 September. I went up a little and left my backpack in the forest, and made a GPS waypoint to retrieve the backpack. A steep off track way up through the forest, then a ridge that would go all the way up to the top of the Mountain. A path for little animals: they could easily manoeuvre through the low and dense mountain spruce. I had more trouble with that, also because a thin layer of wet snow covered the ground. Already had a good view on the mountains and hills around me. Further up I got stuck in the denser mountain spruce and the even more annoying dwarf birch, that is much more hard en knobbly en restricts even the tiniest movement. Impossible to penetrate the tree line I decided to go back. Arrived at my gear at about three and managed to walk all the way back, almost to the camping place of 23 September. Found the probably correct path just at the rivers edge. Oh and I cached a rather big trout that tasted, again, delicious.
Murder on the rocks?
END OF PART 1
