Stage 38: Immense Sibiria

The 38th stage of the XWORLD tour continued following the route of the Trans-Siberian Railway. From Irkutsk, which stands on the only river that flows out of Lake Baikal, the adventurers set off in the direction of Omsk. A participant recounts his experiences with bloodthirsty mosquitoes, surprisingly good-natured policemen, transmission damage, and the piercing gazes of Lenin and Stalin:

"The guests were collected early in the morning. All of them except one. He is having difficulty getting into Russia. His visa and the date of entry do not match. In the end, he is allowed into the country after all. Tedious bureaucracy is apparently the same the world over, and we are all hoping that this will be the last time we cross paths with the authorities. By the evening, our ranks are complete. We go for supper together in the city centre. There's sushi and steak on the menu. We use the time to talk about our journey and route we are going to take.

After the long flight, we are all glad to be able to sleep long and deeply. At 10 in the morning, we set off to explore Irkutsk. Meanwhile, our guide is watching the last check of the vehicles at the Toyota dealership. In the evening, we are driven to supper at breakneck speed by local taxi drivers – our first adventure already. The restaurant we have chosen is called "NEP". For the first time, we are confronted with a menu that is written only in Russian, and a décor reminiscent of days gone by. Nor had we ever before seen a waitress who went about her duties in a Russian Army issue dress. We enjoyed our meal beneath the glares of both Lenin and Stalin, whose busts hung immovably on the wall.

Early the next morning we loaded up the cars. We drove towards Lake Baikal on asphalt roads. These roads weave back and forth across the path of the Trans-Sibieran Railway. We reached Lake Baikal in in the early afternoon. Only two of our number ventured into the water this time, though it must be said they provided ample amusement not only for us but also for the local populace. When we resumed our journey, unusual obstacles awaited us in the Tunka Valley. The local livestock,blocked the road and we only avoided accidents by leaning on the horn constantly and occasionally taking a detour through the Sibirian hinterland. The famous "kangaroo section" also demanded every ounce of our nerves. We were soon thanking our lucky stars that someone had had the foresight to replace the shock absorbers on two of the vehicles before we left. In the evening, we spent hours looking for somewhere to spend the night, in vain. We left the tourism centre behind – a room with nine beds was a little too adventurous for us – and decided to camp beside the river. Our first campsite turned out to be ideal: there were no mosquitoes, we were able to meet with the locals, and even had the chance to ride a Siberian horse. Reinhard took charge of cooking and was unanimously nominated our chef de cuisine for the rest of the tour. With a little beer, wine and vodka we enjoyed the evening.


We drove long way the next day, beyond Lake Baikal and Irkutsk, West on the M 53. Fortunately, we stopped off at our hotel in Irkutsk again, and were able to collect the passports belonging to two of our number. This brief stop cost us valuable time, and we didn't quite reach our destination for the day. But as soon as the camp was set up, the long day's driving was forgotten, even the rain did not dampen our spirits. In our large tent, we listened to the raindrops while Max and Philipp turned their attention to our rusty stove. With astonishing success – after their ministrations, it worked like new again! Both were officially named the heroes of the day.

The next morning, the rain continued as we ate breakfast. The persistent precipitation turned the road to the campsite into a muddy swamp. Using drift and all-wheel drive, we struggled back to the main road. At least most of use did. LIke in a bad film, there is always someone who finds the deepest holes. With everyone lending a hand, we managed to pull the vehicle free. Just a minor incident, but as a result our cars finally look as if we really are on the XWORLD tour! And we are – so everything is as it should be! The "rescue operation" cost us a lot more valuable time, so we already knew that we were in for a long day of driving. Back on the M53, we headed towards Krasnoyarsk. Just outside the city, we were alarmed by a burst of activity over the radio. Two participants were having problems with their vehicle. As soon as we reached Krasnoyarsk, we drove straight to the Toyota dealership and persuaded them to let us leave the car there. Everything else could be taken care of in the morning. In the hotel, our first act was to take a hot shower, after two consecutive days under canvas. We finally fell into bed, exhausted, around midnight.

The next morning at Toyota, we quickly realised that the vehicle would not be going anywhere for a while. We had to leave it there. But we hoped it would be ready for the road again in a couple of days, when we returned to collect it. We enjoyed this extra, unscheduled rest day in the city and decided to stay in Krasnoyarsk for one more night. It was a welcome change of pace after two long days on the road.

After breakfast, we were back on the M53 again. We drove through endless birch forests to Mariinsk. Mariinsk was once the administative centre for the Gulag prison system, and has thus earned a rather dubious reputation. At the same time, we discovered nothing particularly noteworthy about the town, and decided to hurry on. By evening, we had reached Kuznetsky and our hotel. The only decent restaurant in town had been taken over by a wedding party, so we preferred to eat at the hotel. The hotel restaurant can hardly be said to be setting the gastronomical world aflame. But we still enjoyed ourselves over Chinese noodles. When we we were told in no uncertain terms just before 10 o'clock that it was time for us to leave, we were extremely surprised. When we met in the hotel corridor, almost furtively, to drink a beer together, we felt as if we were on a school outing. This feeling was reinforced by the ever vigilant eyes of the corridor guardian. But still we enjoyed ourselves, and went happily to bed.

After a quick breakfast in the morning, we soon found ourselves back on the road again. This time, we leaft the main road behind and struck off into the Altai Mountains. Since we knew it was going to be a long driving day, we decided to take a shortcut. Gradually, the tarmac road turned to gravel, which became a woodland lane, and finally degenerated into a muddy track through virgin forest. The neat yellow line that represented it in our Russian road map was apparently not a shortcut after all. Not long afterwards, two Russian forestry workers flagged us down and explained that the road would get much worse, and on no account should be try to carry on. Despite the fact that this is supposed to be an offroad tour, we listened to reason and turned around. We even managed to reach our camp in Chemal in time, despite the shortcut-that-wasn't. We pitched our tents right beside the river.
Once again, Reinhard's culinary skills did not let us down. We enjoyed an evening round the campfire and a clear, starry night.


We slept long into the morning, and broke camp relatively late. For a while, we drove back the way we came beside the Katun River, and constantly caught sight of hanging bridges, one of which we would have to use to cross. The severed steel cables and more tree angels on the bridge did not resally inspire confidence, but they didn't stop us from daring to cross either. Our cameraman had a field day, and we are all waiting eagerly to see how the pictures turned out. This excursion through the mountainous region of Altai makes a welcome change after the countless kilometres on the M53 and through Siberia's empty heart. By evening, we had reached Lake Teletskoe. We pitched camp beside the river and made a campfire.

Early in the morning, we were awoken by cows and horses. It seems we set up our camp in the meadow where these animals were grazing. They are unworried, however, and we were left alone to eat our breakfast. Later, we left the Altai Mountains and headed towards Novosibirsk.

 

We reached the city in the evening. We drove past the entrance to the hotel, and made to turn round abruptly, right under the nose of a policamen. We were stopped immediately. He informed us that we had turned into a one-way street and that we should go back at once. Astonishingly, we were not given a ticket, and were allowed to drive on. And that was to be our first and last contact with the police. We all marvelled at this magnanimity. My memories of government power had been quite different. In the hotel, we again enjoyed a hot shower - pure luxury. We ate supper at restaurant close to the hotel.

Since the next day was to be a short driving day, we decided to visit the city on the morning. We set out on foot. Our first destination was the Novosibirsk Opera and Ballet Theatre.

 

The size of the theatre is overwhelming, it is said to be even larger than the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow. The eight-lane thoroughfare in front of the theatre was already busy with the early morning rush hour. Howeverm this did not deter Heinz from planting himself in the middle of the road to get a very particular photograph. And let no one say that nothing exciting happened in Novosibirsk. At about 11 o'clock, we set off westward again. This was our next to last travel day, and it took us to Lake Chany. We we all hoping to swim in lake and sunbathe on the riverbank. But we were in for an unpleasant surprise: as soon as we reached the lake, we were besiged by millions of mosquitoes. Cooking was difficult, and even eating was hazardous. The chance of a little extra meat accompanied every mouthful. This was no fun at all. One participant went to relieve himself, and counted 155 mosquito bites just on his legs! Amazingly, the mosquitoes retreated when we all retired to our tents, leaving just a few to stand guard for the night. We wondered what would happen in the morning.

When we awoke and stole out of our tents, the torture resumed. We were immediately surrounded again. The only good thing that came out of it was that we were all very keen to pack our tents away as quickly as possible. Five minutes and what must have been 1000 mosquito bites later, we were sitting in the cars with tents stowed. We wanted to leave this place just as quickly as possible. We ate breakfast on the road at a roadside café. At about 1 o'clock in the afternoon, we reached Omsk and were glad to tend to our wounds in the hotel. In the afternoon, we all felt we deserved a break. In the evening, we had supper right on the banks of the Irtysh and congratulated ourselves on reaching our destination without any serious difficulties.

Late the next morning, we went sightseeing in the city. We met a number of pairs of newlyweds, and realised with surprise that in Russia what is really the happiest day of a person's life is manifested differently than in our country. We visited the War Museum in Omsk and were relieved to think that the old tanks in the courtyard cannot do any more damage. At the same time, we were quite aware of how present the last wars still are here.
In the afternoon, we took a trip down the river on a pleasure steamer and saw the city of Omsk from quite a different perspective.
Our last supper together was enjoyed to the full – tomorrow we would be saying farewell to the endless wilderness that is Siberia. Notwithstanding the vehicle breakdown (transmission failure, but it was repaired and did reach Omsk in time) and the 155 mosquito bites, we survived pretty well.