Siberian Adventure Part 2: From Irkutsk to Olkhon

We arrived in Irkutsk at approximately 9:30am on May 3rd. Lida, with whom we’d been corresponding via email regarding our stay on Olkhon Island, met us at the platform. I had been under the impression that Lida actually worked at Solnechnaya (our hostel/camp on the island), and therefore expected that she would accompany us to Olkhon. Instead, she guided us to a nearby marshrutka (mini-van taxi-bus) and told us to take it to the end of the line (roughly 4 hours away) at which point we would be shown a different marshrutka to take. The marshrutka contained several Russians, and Norwegian named Ingvild. Ingvild was the only other tourist in the van. The driver of our marshrutka, like many Russian drivers, had no concept of rules of the road: our trip was nothing but high speeds and passing blind, uphill, or blatantly into oncoming traffic. Did I mention we were in this van for approximately four hours? Aaack! Luckily, the scenery was beautiful... especially the closer we got to Lake Baikal.

View from the marshrutka

Another view from the marshrutka

We stopped at several tiny Siberian villages along
the way to drop people off and pick people up.

This was our first view of Lake Baikal
from the hill above the village of Sakhyurta

The colors were absolutely surreal.

Eventually we arrived at a small village called Sakhyurta, located on the shore of Lake Baikal. At this point, the driver of our marshrutka told the four of us, Ingvild and the two Russian girls headed for Olkhon that we needed to hop into a different van… one akin to the marshrutka from Hell. It wasn’t really a marshrutka at all, but an ancient van with front seats and nothing at all in the back! The Russian girls snagged the front seats, leaving the five of us to bounce around in the back of the death-van as we set off for the north-western shore of Baikal.

After about 30-40 minutes, the van bumped up to the shore of the still-frozen lake, and our driver informed us that we would need to wait there for our guide, who would take us across the ice. The five of us got out and took a lot of photos (while the driver and the two Russians looked on with scorn – stupid tourists!) and played around a little on the ice... which we noticed was cracking and groaning and moving up and down beneath our feet. Ingvild looked at the ice and said, “I’m Norwegian and I know ice. This ice isn’t stable.” We were able to look into the distance and see the Island of Olklhon rising up against the horizon approximately five kilometers away, but at that point we were beginning to think that we wouldn’t be able to make it to our destination. Should we really cross the world’s deepest lake on unstable ice? (Lida had told us that if the lake turned out to be impassable, we’d be put up in similar accommodations on the northern shore. While that would have been better than nothing, we really wanted to reach Olkhon. And after all, something better than nothing is giving up.)

The frozen north-western shore of Lake Baikal

The marshrutka from hell

We didn’t give up. Soon we saw a small red motorcycle with a sidecar approaching us from across the ice. It turned out that the passenger of the car was Valeriy, the owner of our hostel/camp. While the driver of the motorcycle set off with the two Russian girls, Valeriy reassured us. He told us that he was a Buryat (the indigenous people of the area, closely related to the Mongols), a native of the area, and had crossed the ice many times. We figured that if he would be our guide, we would be okay.

We put on our coats and backpacks and set off across the ice on foot. Walking on the ice was incredibly difficult for all of us, although more so for me, for some reason. I fell behind, and was continuously slipping. I was terrified that if I fell, I would go right through the ice. Luckily, Valeriy (who is a pro when it comes to walking on ice) noticed that I was having trouble, and gave me his arm. It was a lot easier to walk on the ice when I had him providing support.

It looked and felt like an Arctic expedition!

We had walked approximately half a kilometer or so when the man with the motorcycle returned. I climbed into the sidecar, and many bags and a fur coat were piled into the sidecar with me. Y and Ingvild were instructed to climb onto the motorcycle behind the driver. We were all quite skeptical, but as the driver and Valeriy seemed confident, we figured that it would be safe. Our ride across the lake was thrilling in a somewhat frightening way, although I didn’t feel at any point like I might die. The driver of the motorcycle let us off about half a kilometer from the shore, and went back to collect M, J and Valeriy. The three of us were quite happy to have made it across the lake in one piece, and celebrated by taking lots of photos... although my foot did go through the ice on the way to the shore!

All aboard the crazy motorbike!

The motorcycle sets off to pick up our companions.

Yay! I made it to the other side!

Soon the motorcycle arrived bearing our companions. We were surprised to see it drive all the way up onto the shore! M and J were as pale as sheets and clearly ecstatic to have reached the shore. Apparently, Valeriy had told them that the motorcycle was safe as long as the ice was slippery. Apparently, slippery ice = hard ice. When they began their ride, they started off on hard, slippery ice... but soon drove into areas of mushy, slushy ice. Valeriy began to yell at the driver, saying things like, “What are you doing?” and “Don’t drive over your own tracks! That’s weakened ice - we’ll fall through!” The driver’s response? “I’ve never fallen through yet!” No wonder they were terrified! But, I guess the driver knew what he was doing after all - we all crossed the lake without injury or death! (Later, several residents of the island told us we were crazy for having crossed the lake when and how we did!)

We were quite relieved to be on dry land, and quickly loaded our bags into yet another ancient van (at least this one had seats!) and prepared to ride to our camp. The van made it about 500 yards when one of the tires went flat. While Valeriy did have a spare tire, he didn’t have a jack... not a problem! M and Valeriy walked back down to the shore and rummaged through an abandoned shack in search of things to use to make a jack (in the interim, the rest of us photographed the scenery).

The view was unbelievable.

The returned with some boards and a large rusted metal object of uncertain origin. When the makeshift jack was erected, I got to stand on a board, thus leveraging the van up enough to change the tire. Russian ingenuity is awe inspiring.

Homemade Annie-Jack :-)

J and Y pose with the tire

The rest of the journey to Solnechnaya (located in Khuzhir, the largest settlement on Olkhon) was uneventful... although further adventures ensued upon our arrival. Stay tuned for Part 3: Adventures on Olkhon!