A thousand kilometer journey into the wilderness of Siberia
I am working on a complete report of my trip. Containing a diary and many pictures and movies over a period of two months (from August to October) it is becoming a rather large document. For the time being I have selected some fragments of the report, centered around some of my favourite photo's. I hope you enjoy it!
Check the video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Sm6zV7fSAs
PART TWO: TO YANCHUY RIVER
PART TWO: TO YANCHUY RIVER
Day eleven, 24 August
I followed an animal track for about ten kilometres to reach a car track. A little marsh, then the road went up into a dry pine forest with trees that seemed to have suffered wildfire. It was hot. The sand track led me southwards for another ten kilometres to a gravel road. From there it was another five kilometres to reach the two wooden houses named Delakory and the nearby bridge. A muddy car track led to the river. The Search and Rescue Agency had informed me about a sober hunting trail starting right here. It would run through very desolate terrain, to end near the town of Taksimo three hundred kilometres to the east. With only five days and then return, I had in mind to reach the river Yanshui, go upstream and take a look at the source of the Muya River at the other side of the mountain pass.
Early in the morning, the first day of a long walk to the Muyakanskiy Mountains.
Heading towards the source of the Kotera River behind the hills.
Day twenty-one, 3 September
I had just crossed the river Yanchuy where it flows sideways over a shallow bank. According to the map of the Search and Rescue Agency, the hunting trail followed the northern banks of the river. I went for a little scout, got my backpack, and went up the hill to steer clear of the dense bushes at the river edge. That I would regret. I immediately got to know Russian fire struck taiga. Fallen tree trunks three layers deep and covered by plants made progression extremely difficult. After one hour I stood on the pebbles along the river again, sweating, having progressed maybe half a kilometer.
Shadow on the rocky riverbed.
The river bent to the left when I spotted a deeper pond. Immediately I went for the artificial flies that two fisherman had given to me, three days ago. ‘That one is very good’ one of them said, pointing to a black fly with silver stripes. I attached it to the line, let it follow the stream, and as soon as it reached the deeper water something pulled at the hook. And what a pretty something!
Day twenty-two, 4 September
That morning I had just left my campsite, a sheltered forest with high trees, when I spotted a cabin with the doors left open. The trail seemed to follow the right turn of the river along the steep riverside, and turned to the left where I noticed wolf tracks in the sand and the footprints of a bear along the river. They seemed fresh, maybe from the same morning. A little cautious I went on over a clear track, to arrive at the river for a lunch break. From there the path went up through hard to go dense forest, turned slowly to the right and straight east for a while through open Larch forest. More up and up, bending, crawling and climbing over fallen trees, until I heard the river rushing far down the valley. A turn to the left along a steep edge, and then a great view on the 2.300 meters high Watcher Mountain at the western edge of the Muyakanskiy Mountains.
Fragile clouds over the Russian taiga, half - way the day.
The trail went down the hill, a very steep descent over loose and sharp plates of rock. I felt victorious to have reached ground zero, and walked about three kilometres more to set up the tent.
Day twenty-three, 5 September
My aim today was to reach the foot of the Watcher. I followed several animal tracks, leading me trough a marshland I didn’t like at all. At the riverbank were traces of dear, although I could not find a continuing path. Crossing a small stream I slipped over a rock and fell into the water. On track I passed a little cabin, went through forests, over streambeds and crossed the river to a more level area at the other side. A squirrel had been watching my pursuits from a branch on a distance. It was brownish with a white belly, and rather large. When the river split into equal streams I choose the one to the right, and completely lost track. It started to rain just when I had pitched my tent on a dry riverbed.
Day twenty-four, 6 September
Sleet was splashing on the tent. Being a dangerous substance for an outdoorsmen (cold, wet and sticky unlike dry snow) I snuggled in my sleeping bag, expecting bad weather all day. Then the sun broke trough. I walked about ten kilometres over the track, cached three Thymallus and crossed the river. The terrain had become increasingly difficult with steep riverbanks at both sides of the river, the river itself becoming wild. ‘You are going to Muyakanski? Woohoo!’ a local had told me with a scary expression on its face. ‘Are you sure? Right now it can get really cold out there’ an other one had said. Seen the amount of food left for a return (4 day’s) and the jungle like surroundings it would be dangerous to push to the east too far.
Day twenty-five, 7 September
Decided to climb the mountain opposite of the Watcher. I left my backpack at the edge of the steep forest after entering the GPS coordinates. The off track route went over a thick layer of moss through birch and pine trees. Reached the western edge of a ridge that would go all the way to the 2.200 meters high top. The little animal tracks where not very useful to maneuver through the low and dense mountain spruce. More upwards there was a layer of wet snow, and not very far from the upper edge of the tree line I got stuck. Here the branches of the mountain spruce were too large to just push away and to make things worse, the more annoying dwarf birch had showed up with hard and knobby twigs, restricting every movement. I tried to pass left and right from the ridge but both sides were steep and grown with dense bush as well. I decided to return: one - zero for the Siberian mountains. Picked up my backpack and went over an animal track more inland, to reach a little river that came from the south. Walked over the swampy banks south of the Yanchuy, crossed the river and found that the main track went at the utter edge of the riverbanks. Almost reached the camping place of 23 September after caching a big Thymallus in a blink of an eye. It tasted, again, delicious.
The theme red, grey and green
Day twenty-six, 8 September
I woke up and looked into the rainy pitch-black night. I could imagine one could feel very, very alone, though kept the feeling at a considerable distance. The morning showed a different face, with dramatic clouds crossing the blue sky. The steep hill I had met before was something I did not look forward to. Arriving there I found a path more to the east, which made the upward route more gradual, less steep. Reached the place where I stayed overnight 4 days ago in the late in the afternoon, taking advantage of a camping place already cleared from rocks and small rose bushes.
PART FOUR, TO PARAM GORGE
Day thirty-two, 13 September
Second day at Muya River. The neoprene trousers and shoes were frozen stiff in the morning. A pretty meandering stream along a small mountain range at the north, pine grown islands, splitting creeks that come together only after long distance, high river banks made of white sand. A pretty view on the larger mountain ranges north and south. The shallow sandbanks required careful navigation. Getting stuck imposed the risk of being pushed over by the shallow stream, while walking over the banks was no option. I would immediately sank to the knees and further, because the freshly deposited sand was saturated with water. Something I already experienced the first day at the Angara River. Getting ashore was not easy and it took about two hours to find a tent place just before dark. At night I heard a machine like noise far away, contrasting to the utter silence.
High water levels, exhibit number A
Day thirty-three, 14 September
Third day at River Muya. My aim was to reach the Vitim River today. I passed the small town of Ust Muya, then choose a deeper and narrower creek to the left. It was not easy to know if I had already reached the Vitim, until I entered another wide stream that was flowing to the left. I had reached Vitim River! It took a few hours to peddle a very large curve to the east over mirror like water. To the south, the eastern part of the Muyskiy Range and the Shaman Mountain could be clearly seen. I camped on a very large sandbank near the willow bushes to be sheltered from the wind. Ripples in the fine sand had already made me a little suspicious.
View on far away Mount Shamen
Peddling on a mirror
Day thirty-four, 15 September
I woke up from a distant thunder stroke. A hissing sound, sand was moving quickly. Rain started bombarding the tent and the wind made it shake violently. Nevertheless I quickly fell asleep again. When I woke up in the morning a layer of fine sand had covered everything inside. Large thunderclouds had gathered at the southern mountain range. I went around a large curve and peddled north against wind that was picking up, creating considerable waves. Passed the mound of the Kuanda River that meanders all the way up into the mountains at the northeast, and went along three houses called Nelyaty. At the end of the day I had come close to edge of a huge area of mountains in the north. Camped on a dry riverbed of hardened mud, which contained many footprints of birds and little mammals.
Spaceship Thundercloud, swallowing the mountains.
View on the mountains at the north.
Day thirty-five, 15 September
Today I had in mind to reach the Param Gorge, where the Vitim leaves the valley behind to head straight into the mountains. The water was calm and there was no wind. I reached the entrance at about four. The river, still very calm, entered the mountains. A small curve, the stream became wider. Ahead was the high slope of a mountain that would lead the river to the right. A rushing sound could be heard, although one had to listen carefully. I went to the other side of the river to reach the high sandy shore. Nearing the shore I was surprised by the speed of the water. I was almost being sucked into a narrow stream that would meet the steep wall in twenty meters, and curve sharply to the right to instantly become a fourth category monster. For me there was only one option: tomorrow I would carry all my gear over land to more tranquil waters. It was late in the afternoon when I went up the sandy wall into the forest. Found a good place to stay overnight, and a path that would lead along the rapids. A scout of the path led me through the forest over a clear track, mud pools, a dry riverbed. I went left, and over large rocks to see the rapids from nearby.
A frosty morning in September
Distant calmness
Little verticals
PART FIVE, TO LAKE ORON AND BEOND
Day thirty-nine, 19 September
It had been three days ago since I left the Param rapids behind. I was on my way to the Oron Lake. The first ten kilometres the river was calm. A large mountain showed up in the north. At an Island in the middle of the stream I turned right to pick up some speed. I passed a steep mountain range at the right hand side. The river split into equal sized streams with a large Island ahead. I checked the map to be certain. I had reached the point where to the left the Vitim continues northwards, and to the right the river gathers water directly from the Oron Lake. Both streams would meet again about ten kilometres north. The clear water that gave entrance to the lake was shallow and, as it turned out, flowed with a high speed. I took quite some effort to peddle upstream for a considerable stretch, being careful not to hit the blades on the large pebbles. It was about three when I reached the sandy shore at the edge of the forest. Sheltered from the chilly wind I put up the tent on a nice level surface. Here I would refill the large backpack with supplies for a week, so that for a whole week everything I needed - gear, food, fuel for the stove - was in one bag, stowed in an easy to reach compartment of the kayak. A routine I had been repeating for many weeks.
Day forty-one, 21 September
Early in the morning I cheered the clear blue sky. Yesterday wet snow showers forced me to stay in the tent. The sun was shining over the tops of the mountain range in the west. I had played with the thought to go east over the lake, meanwhile looking for a mountain to walk up and to leave the kayak behind. Bright green water plants hindered progress in the shallow water. Facing a head wind I reached a sheltered bay with fresh bear tracks on the muddy shore. Went round the steep slope to notice that the curve of the earth hided the far eastern shore under water. I realised that the two sounds of thunder I had just heard from far away, may very well be little earthquakes as there where no clouds, and it was followed by ripples in the lake. I followed the cliffs to the left. A tricky swell rocked the boat although there was little wind. A Russian had warned me not to peddle all the way to the eastern shore as the wind could pick up severely. I imagined the waves could easily become spooky and dangerous so near the rocky cliffs. About half way I reached a pretty shore. Tall trees stood at the sandy beaches. Little streams hasted to join the lake. Dead trees had piled up in the deep clear water. It took another two hours to reach the mound of the Sygygta River. A stiff breeze came from the deep valley that lay behind.
Bright morning on the saw’s edge
Underwater world
East side of the lake
View on the southern valley
Day forty-two, 22 September
The large dome shaped mountain showing up three days ago, had drawn my attention like a magnet. I imagined to aproach the top, with a widening view on the high peaks of the Kodar Range, a huge mountainous area with a thousand kilometers of deep taiga valleys. I would try to reach the first slopes by peddling upstream the Sygygta River, which has its source in Central Kodar about hundred fifty kilometers southeast. I crossed the very shallow dead arm of the river and went over the lake again to reach the mouth of the Sygygta. The swell and the back wind pushed me at the sandy exit of the river and further upstream. Walked along two shallow rapids until, before the third rapid, I left the kayak behind. I went for a scout into the valley to the right, which seemed quite near. I still had not reached the entrance of the valley after an hour of walking along the edge of a slope, through dense bush and over rocks covered with thick moss. I decided to return. On the way back my eyes where cached by colored stones in a little stream. At about five I reached the lake again. I felt lucky the wind had calmed down. It took an hour peddling along the steep cliffs to reach the valley south from the lake. Went ashore on the edge of the lake, as the mounding streams were too fast and shallow to enter by boat. Moose tracks came from a nearby birch forest that turned out to be a good place to stay for the night. Tomorrow I would walk into the valley to find an even better off track route to the dome mountain. At least, on the map.
Coloured moss on a rock
Day forty-three 23 September
I carried the kayak into the forest, hung the extra food in the tree and started walking over a dry riverbed where I imediately got caught by a piece of quicksand. Continued for a considerable stretch over round and colorfull rocks. I hoped the weather would clear up, heading towards the slopes of the dome shaped mountain. The river was glacier blue. I was making good progress although the riverbank was steep, which forced me to walk through the forest. On occasions there was dense bush and swampy surface to walk over. There were only scattered traces of an animal track. In the sand there was the track of a moose, and more upstream the footprint of a bear. Before a dense willow bush I decided to put up the tent. Meanwhile the drizzle had turned into rain.
Shining lamp on a dead tree
Sophisticated map of the Oron Lake
Day forty-six, 26 September
I carried the kayak to the lake, filled it with gear and went off on my way back to the Vitim. Peddling along the south shore there was a considerable swell from the changhing wind. Taking advantage of some sheltered bays I reached the shallow mound of the lake at about four. From the wooden house I had already seen at the way outward, came smoke from the chimneys. The house had a satellite disc on the roof and it was well painted as if someone had really put some effort. People where sitting outside and one or two of them made gestures to get ashore. Among them was a woman. She went away for a walk into the house when Yura, as he presented himself, draw a bottle of vodka from inside his jacket. ‘General’ he pointed to the empty seat, mimicing the stripes on the shoulder with two fingers. The men were laughing and making jokes and before she came back the bottle slid into the jacket, which repeated several times. Later I understood that the woman was the head of customs office for the administrive district of Irkutsk, which I had just entered from the automnous republic of Buratya. I was strongly advised to sleep inside the house because of the fresh bear tracks, but escaped the unbearable heat to sleep in the adjoining shelter.
Day forty-eight, 28 September
Today the head of the district, two biologists, and Yura and Alex (who lived in the same town, but had nothing to do with it) would go downstream the Vitim with their motorboats to Bodaybo. The two male officers would stay, living here all year round even in the mids of winter when the temperature reaches -50 degrees Celcius. I went up very early in the morning to be on the water before the caravan would come into action. But one of the biologists was already awake and told it was not allowed to peddle in the nature reserve on my own. They would bring me forty kilometers downstream to Amalayk at the border of the reserve, where I could continue. I fiercely objected. It would take three hours to dismantle and build up the kayak again. And what was the point? The other biologist had also woken up and mimiced handcuffs. When I mimiced hands that held two bars, he nodded and I stopped objecting. At ten I was brought inside the main room of the hut to fill in the forms. The male and female officer had a quarrel about how to interpret my profession and the purpose of my trip. Meanwhile all the others had entered the room, a little unpatient. They mean to say ‘why are you here!’ Alex said and everybody laughed. The male officer mumbled and by way of protest, threw the form in the plants at the windowsill. At twelve we stood at the frozen shore were to my discontent, Yura and Alex were placing the empty kayak crosswise on their small motorboat. ‘Njet, njet! Kaput!’ I jelled. ‘Only forty kilometers’ Yura said. ‘Njet hundred meters!’ I replied but my complaints were of no use. With great speed we went over the river, steering careful to prevent both ends of the kayak to hit the surface. Whe went ashore just before the dangerous Amalyk rapids and helped eachother to get the boats to more quiet water, almost stumbling over curious round holes in the rockplate, and said goodbye. Just before I reached Amalyk, a settlement of three houses, the river turned wild and I had to use great effort to stear the boat to the right to just escape the rushing whitewater.
What the h**l had caused these round holes in the rock? Footprints of a dinosaur in the prehistoric mudd?
Day forty-nine, 29 September
In the morning the temperature reached minus twelve degrees Celcius. The weather was clear whith a pleasant shunshine. To reach the town of Bodaybo on schedule it was nescesary to peddle 250 kilometers in six days, which meant fifty kilometres at the end of this day. Meanwhile the Vitim would flow slower, containing no whitewater anymore until the mound into the Lena River six hundred kilometres downstream. Together with a food shortage of two kilograms because of a miscalculation, it would be the first day of a challinging last week.
The autumn nearing it’s end.
