Ra Ra Mazputin: A Chilly Trip to Lake Baikal

In the last few days, I have discovered that -33 is not the ideal temperature for sightseeing. The traditional sightseeing pastimes of aimlessly wandering around outside, standing still for photographs and removing gloves to rummage in pockets for money and sustenance do not lend themselves to such windy, Siberian conditions. -33 is also not a fantastic temperature to discover that your fur-lined boots don’t work quite as well as promised, despite the salesman insisting that they would be suitable for -40. I suppose the clue was that they were going for £20… It is, however, a superb temperature to visit Lake Baikal. Sure, it is extremely cold, requiring constant movement, full-face coverage and an up-to-date knowledge of the nearest place with central heating, but the views are quite simply spectacular.

Outrageous sunset

Irkutsk's snowy trees

My week-long expedition, during which I would spend about 60 hours on the train, began at late in the evening at Tomsk station with a few other students. They haven’t seemed to find quite the right balance between the sweltering heat inside the train, which will all but melt a lump of cheese, and the bleak, snowy outdoor conditions, which may cause your French travelling companion to say: “It is a hard life for a Siberian train wagon.” Fortunately, despite the lack of a happy medium, I made it to Irkutsk in one piece. The day there was spent admiring ice sculptures and snow-covered trees, as well as seeing about a dozen churches and cathedrals. The following morning, after a look around the market, we boarded a bus to Listviyanka, a town snugly squeezed onto the banks of the lake.

I had visited Lake Baikal before, in the summer of 2010, but my first impressions were just as breathtaking, if not more so than before. The vast body of crystal clear water was covered with a layer of wispy smoke, skimming the surface in front of a backdrop of mountains far away on the horizon. We were extremely lucky to have such miraculously clear skies every evening to watch the sunset. The third time around was just as impressive as the first, the winter sun bathing the sky and waves in pinks and oranges before oozing out of sight. In strolling up into the mountains, we were presented with even more spectacular views, as well as plants and even rocks frozen into ice. Despite these marvellous sights, several Russians questioned our decision to travel to Baikal, either claiming that it is far too cold, or rather strangely, that there is nothing to see there. They seemed genuinely unable to understand why we had left our lives in Europe behind to come and visit a Siberian landmark.

Children play on the white beaches of Baikal

This reached its most ridiculous point on our third day by the lake. Our attempt to witness the sunrise in Port Baikal, a short ferry journey from Listviyanka, was foiled by a layer of low cloud, but our voyage across the water did not go unnoticed by either locals or my toes. One elderly woman was actually furious at our ‘stupidity’, repeatedly asking why we had gone there, laughing off my suggestion that the views were glorious, and offering no useful advice except for: “If you go outside, you will freeze and die.” Fortunately, she was wrong; none of us died. However, her description of the town was fairly accurate: “Cold.”

Sunrise over the frozen train

Cold is the first word that comes to mind when looking at a picture like that. In fact, it screams cold. You can begin to understand her bewilderment at our decision to go outside; being greeted with that sort of scene really is quite ominous. On the other side of the coin, there are many Siberians who really take the cold in their stride, normally older men, who have endured a lifetime of ridiculous temperatures. In fact, there is a widely known joke among Siberians that goes something like this:

Me: (at -33) Crikey blimey, it’s freezing!

Siberian Bloke: Ah it’s not too bad. -40 is cold! This is fiiiine. You know, back in Listviyanka it’s only -20! Practically summer!! (Laughs heartily, which becomes a wheezy cough, presumably brought about from a lifetime of temperature underestimation.)

Hilarious joking aside, I have never been that cold before. Your extremities go beyond their pain threshold, such that warming up again is even more painful, as if your bones are re-growing, forging a hole through throbbing layers of muscle and cartilage. Even without wind, the air bites and pinches your face, forcing you to raise a hand to cover everything. Of course, such temperatures make that hot cup of tea in front of the fire even more rewarding, when you eventually get inside and peel off layers.