18 August 2014
Train from Irkutsk to
Khabarovsk, Near Skovorodino
 |
| That little wiggle at the bottom of the map is China. The white line heading north goes, after some time, to Yakutsk. |
Northern Exposure.
The train has now reached our northern-most latitude as it slips around Chinese
Manchuria defined here by the Amur River. Glued to the window for an hour, I
finally saw the split in the rail lines for which I had penned this couplet:
Out on the taiga the
tracks diverged
Strong as horses I
felt the urge
And stared at the
rails
to
the tundra mouth
-- The capstone
completion!
-- The perfect
solution!
Then prudence took
hold
and
the train turned south
We’re at the point in the journey where the Yakutsk-bound
train begins its weary trek above tree-line and into the permafrost. Upon
arrival there is, apparently, nothing much to see. Boasting rights isn’t quite
enough to justify the lengthy detour – two days there and another two returning
to this spot.
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| Borsch. Strictly popular with the Roseville crowd. No kidding. |
This is now our third night in car 10. All batteries have
run out, except for those in the children – not mine – dashing up and down the
corridor well after bedtime. No ithings. No back-up batteries. No kindle. My
computer has been recharged twice, but it required availing myself of the attendant
two cars down. I may try my luck again tomorrow. The staff have been
wonderfully helpful, but the five of us are spread across 4 koupés still. We have no flexibility to
move anyone because, since we’re all in top bunks, we have no seat currency.
The children have all turned their bunks into forts, recruiting sheets to
close-off little subapartments. They’re bunking with total strangers now –
everyone in our compartments have turned over besides the captain’s family in
Patsy’s and Constantine, the puzzle master, in my own.
Liam’s Blog: This train is awesome it is fancy fake wood
style with a big window but there is no sockets so everyone ran out of battery
on the first day so I have been playing cards like the whole time.
The Big Picture. I’m
becoming nostalgic because this will also be our last train ride on the Tip to
Tundra Tour. Trains have moves us from the Malay peninsula back in May up to
Bangkok, and then from Saigon to Hanoi. We caught trains again in SW China,
first into Dali and then to central China – Chongqing. From Chongqing we made
our way to Xi’an again on the train. We got a taste of Chinese bullet trains
(300 kph) from Xi’an to Beijing, and then tested the Transmongolian up to
Ulanbaatar (wrong wheels). Now we’ve been back-and-forth around the south end
of Lake Baikal, with our momentum carrying us all the way to the edge of the
pacific.
You can measure that in miles, or more appropriately
kilometers. In hours, of course. In nights slept. In sleep interruptions. How
about counting in noodle packs, in conversations, in hands of rummy, in things
left behind? How about in counting in sunsets, station stops or
misunderstandings? How about disposables disposed of, water bottles filled,
familial arguments, or cows? (Will you accept waterbuffalo? How about yaks?)
This summer has been unlike any before or any likely to come afterward. The
children are at a tipping point – the stresses of being a teenager away from her
social life already daunt Carrie, while Grace barely possesses the maturity for
2 ½ months of travel. Soon they return to their suburban American home veterans
of trains in Vietnam, China, Mongolia and Russia, and veterans of buses,
taxi’s, tuk-tuks, bicycles and myriad other conveyances in all countries we’ve
touched. I ache with curiosity to know how these experiences bake into their
character.
Day 3 update: Gracie will go on to say that this is her favorite of all the trains we've taken. "It's so fancy," she says,' echoing Liam's sentiment about the faux wood veneer in the cabins.
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