Back in my
post from 16 August I relayed my relief in having Anita's mother, Patsy, arrive as if by magic, at the door of our apartment at 6 am in an anonymous neighborhood in Irkutsk. That was the beginning of 2 weeks together in some of the most remote parts of the world. She sent along her description of our adventures which I've edited into two parts.
Thanks Angus, Carrie, Liam and Gracie for letting me share
this wonderful adventure. At several
points in the journey, Angus asked the kids what they thought were the toughest
and the best parts of the adventure.
For me, the toughest parts, hands down, were two road
trips—the first, the ride by van to and from the ferry to our guest house in
Olkohn Island, and second the ride on the monster truck to and from base camp
on the volcano Mt. Avacha. To call
these rides bumpy is a definite understatement.
The Olkohn ride was an hour-long bone-jarring ordeal. The Mt. Avacha ride is a challenge to one
like me who claims to be absolutely immune to motion sickness—a few times I had
to do a quick grab on something to keep from being tossed off my seat or hurled
into the wall of the vehicle.
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Olkhon ferry. Complete with bridge, groom and wedding entourage.
(Our favorite ring bearer in the foreground in orange shorts.) |
I have three best parts: the afternoon I spent on the beach
in Olkohn with Liam and Grace and the early morning on the same beach with
Grace and Carrie; the train ride to
Khabarosk; and seven days on the Lost World tour in Kamchatcka [Ed. see next blog post].
On our second afternoon in Olkhon, Angus and Carrie decided
to explore the island on rented bikes, while Grace, Liam and I went to the
beach. Lake Baikal is a beautiful —clear,
calm waters surrounded by rocky cliffs, some of which where chalky, ghostly
white. The beach was full of
people—locals and tourists—when we arrived at 4 pm.
Liam and Grace swam for a while—and then worked for two
hours straight building a sand “hot tub” large enough to hold both of
them. They dug two holes, built up and
reinforced the walls with stones, then used our water bottle to fill the holes
with water from the lake. They sat in
their hot tub, playing and joking with each other. (I made them promise not to
turn it into a fight.) They were so
happy, vital, clearly enjoying the lake, their play, and each other—in
short—they were so cute. People stopped
and stared at them, wonderingly and admiringly.
Some Chinese tourists video taped them. (I was going to object—but decided
not to when I could not see what harm could come of it.) Some people thought they were twins. Some Russian kids hovered around longing to
join them—but alas the language barrier was insurmountable.
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| Crystal clear waters of Lake Baikal |
Apparently, the bike ride was a bust—because it involved
mainly riding through deep sand. The
more we talked about our wonderful afternoon at the beach, the more
disappointed Carrie felt about her own hard afternoon. So I offered to take her and Grace to the
beach the next morning before breakfast.
We headed to the beach at seven a.m.
Carrie and Grace worked non-stop for about an hour and a half, building
an elaborate sand castle complex—complete with reinforced walls, a moat,
barracks and training grounds. There
were only a handful of people out besides us.
The morning was beautiful in a tranquil sort of way—and I sat there
admiring Carrie’s and Grace’s absorption and creativity.
On the train to Khabarosk we were assigned top bunks—Liam
and Grace in the same compartment, Carrie, Angus, and I in separate compartments
with other people. The way up and down my bunk was through a foot-and-a-half,
by eight-inch contraption with three rungs, attached to one corner of the bunk
below. My first climb up was
iffy—awkward. The ladder was too small
and too short—I had to hoist myself up the bunk. I was really afraid I would have a freak
accident, so I resolved to minimize the times I had to go up or down. Certainly, I resolved not to go down to go to
the bathroom at night when it was pitch black.
By the next afternoon, I had figured out a technique for going up and
down safely—and got more and more comfortable.
The landscape passing by outside the train was vast, suggestive
of the vastness of Siberia and the sparseness of its population—mostly open
plain, and sometimes woods consisting pine and birch trees. I enjoyed standing on the corridor, looking
out the window—especially at sunset. I
saw a rainbow, but missed the double rainbow Angus talked about. I spent the time on the train playing card
games with the kids—mainly Liam. The
MacDonald kids are whiz at card games—especially poker (we used goldfish crackers
as chips). Grace warned that I was at a
distinct disadvantage playing with three kids who had inherited their father’s
card-playing skills. I held my own—but
barely.
 |
| The author: sharking her grandson. |
 |
The Russian's don't mess around. At these rail crossings there is
not only a gate, but the whole road rises up to stop you from
dodging onto the tracks! |
One other memorable item on the trip was my compartment mates—Simeon, his wife Ludmilla, and their daughter Katya—residents of a village outside Irkutsk, on the way to visit his brother who lives in a village outside Khabarosk. Simeon is a ship captain—sailing a cargo ship to and from the Mediterranean. Katya works at a café; Ludmilla is an at-home wife. He speaks a bit of English; they spoke none at all. He told me he is 59 years old. They all got kinder to me after I told them I am 72. What most struck me about them is how nice they were to each other—especially Simeon and Ludmilla. They joked with each other (her rubbing his arm to egg him on)—in Russian, so the joke might have been on me. But I enjoyed watching them. Ludmilla was probably quite a looker when she was young—still is, I think. Simeon was clearly still smitten. They showed me pictures of the recent wedding of their older daughter—who was also quite good looking.
They invited me to share their meals. The memorable one was
breakfast with caviar on crackers. They
also gave me candy for the kids, a big tasty tomato from Ludmilla’s garden, and
a two-litter bottle of water (because they saw me trying to get drinkable water
by filling my teacup with boiling tea water, then pouring it into a water
bottle when it cools).
