Wednesday 1st August: Chita, with a population of 370,000 is a diverse city with varying architecture.

A mix of old log buildings, now typical Russian concrete apartment buildings and some modern newer style living accommodation, that would do proud in any city. In the city square and surrounding the always present statue of Lenin, were some very impressive government buildings with equally impressive roman style columns. We walked the city centre in the 33 degrees heat and restocked the pantry.

Importantly Bill managed to replace his hydraulic hose for the winch. That was quite an experience for him. After many auto shops, and work shops in previous towns, Bill was determined that Chita had to be the place to locate it before the more difficult Mongolia. Finally, a small engine workshop owner volunteered to take Bill and find such a hose. At 100 to 120Kph he drove Bill in his V8 Mazda across and around Chita. Bill had his hose, but was shattered at the driving style.  Bill was a off-road competition driver but this was just crazy stuff. That evening it took many Vodkas and coffees to bring him back to reality after crossing intersections at these speeds, passing cars on the crest of hills etc. He was clearly shaken by this experience.

Whilst Bill, was enjoying himself in the ‘race car’, we chatted to some of the locals around the auto shops. One was a truck driver who does the China to Saint Petersburg run. He had been to Lake Baikal, and particularly to the isolated place we wanted to visit and suggested a 250Km short-cut across the mountains. With the help of some English speaking locals we had a rough map of the tracks. He assured us that it did exist, despite the fact it was neither on the Garmin world map, nor on our more up to date and reliable ‘Roads to Russia” CD map, nor any of the Russian paper road maps !  I had to wonder how it could still be still described as a “gravel road.”

With that plan in hand we headed north out of town towards Romanavska and camped beside a stream and had enjoyed some fresh raspberries purchased from an old lady in the roadside markets.

Camp 34: Raspberries & Cream beside the River

Distance Today: 200Kms

Thursday 2nd August: We were away at our now usual 9am departure, and after Romanavska headed west towards Khorynsk where we take the short cut to Lake Baikal. This area must be the bread basket of Russia. Large rolling plains covered with wheat fields, and cattle. The only difference to what we see at home is the short stalks on the wheat, and the very antiquated machinery being used. I would seem that despite Perestroika that the farms may still be run under a collective arrangement and share equipment and labour forces.

On the side of the road in one small village they were selling Blueberries. The second young couple waved us down as they stood proudly beside their two metal buckets of Blueberries. The young lady of about 25 wanted 250RUB (A$12.00) for the 4 gallon bucket.

We explained in sign language, and by blowing up our mouth, that we would explode if we eat all 4 gallons of Blueberries, and only wanted a small quantity. She laughed but really wanted us to take the full bucket, and dropped the price to 200RUB. We finally finished up with about 3 or more kilos, about half the bucket, for 100RUB (A$5.00), giving the remainder back to her.

We passed through the small village of Isinga, where at the edge of town, a track lead up to the top of a domed grassy hill.

From the top was a view across the town and the meadows, and the large tranquil lake the town was nestled against.

In this prime position was a very small white pagoda, with its accompanying colourful alter and 10 or so congregation benches.

Sitting on the grass, looking out across the mirror finished lake you could see three isolated fishermen in their small boats catching their supper. There was no wind and no sound, despite the close proximity to the village. I could hear the cows eat; the fishermen throw their line in some 400 metres away, and nothing else.

Truly this was the Donnyboon of Russia.

You could feel the serenity.

We all had to force ourselves back onto the road.

At Khokhotuy we confirmed again with some guys working on a truck, the directions across the mountains. With a few more map scribbles in Lyn’s log book we headed back 10K’s to the turn off to the village of Mayla. The road was, within 500 metres already a grass centred track as it crossed the one metre deep creek into the log village. It was time for more reassurance, so we asked a Kamaz Log truck driver waiting on the road. A few more map directions in Lyn’s book, and then he offered to lead us part of the way. At a very painful 15KPH, we followed the truck about 10kms to our turn off. In Russian, I think he may have said “Good Luck”

We were defiantly on logging tracks, and as we came across logging camps we would ask directions again and again. Each time more notes, however the more information we had the more it differed a little from the last.

Two Australian trucks and 4 Aussie tourists this far away from civilisation was always a surprise to the timber getters. Amongst them there was always wild chatter and as we left you could see them shaking and scratching their heads. At 7.30pm we stopped on a disused side track and camped.

That evening we enjoyed Blueberries and cream topped with condensed milk.

Camp 35: Blueberry Camp on side track.

Distance Today: 435Kms

Friday 3rd August: With breakfast over and Bill’s hydraulic winch hose back in place we headed off perhaps a little more confident than the previous day had ended.

Up one steep hill a Kamaz truck driver carrying an old tank used for timber-getting had jack-knifed his vehicle and trailer. It was an impossible situation and he really needed some serious machinery to extricate him from the situation. Unfortunately we could do little to help, and following some friendly exchanges managed to edge our way past.

At midmorning we arrived at a house on top of a mountain range. This turned out to be the Zamakta Meteorological Station. We had wondered what “meteor” was in the instructions to date.

After some instructions, and more “carta” (map) drawings, we were invited for coffee.

Zamakta is made up of 3 log houses plus the log ‘station’ building. We met all the inhabitants – all of 5 men and 5 women.

Invited in for coffee, we took some biscuits and our cups into the dining/bed room. As we talked, the two wives (?) slowly loaded the table with Blueberries, cream, then bread, cucumber salad, bean salad, stuffed bread (very nice), and finally cooked macaroni with beef and cheese. What a feast!

Not coffee, but Russian Chai (Tea) was served, but before anything first a toast. Out came the home made whiskey made from potatoes (?) and local herbs. Hence at 10am, here we were with the two older ‘mums’, the daughter, brother, husbands and not sure how the others fitted in, but the entire community, toasting, Russia/Australia, Friends, Mothers etc etc.

It was a great cultural exchange, and truly an honour and a pleasure to be welcomed into their home and family. Vlad, presented us an old detailed map of the area and highlighted the position of the Zamakta Meteor Station. All the family signed this and our Russian Flag. I gave ‘Mike’ a signed picture of my competition vehicle as he also was a ‘rally’ driver.

So friendly were they that as Lyn was patting the family kitten they offered it to her as a travelling companion. Lyn found it hard work refusing yet not offending.

As we were leaving the group then presented us with a parcel of food – 5 cans of bully beef and 5 cans of condensed milk….and what remained of that precious home made whiskey, for our travels. It was now early afternoon when Vlad then sat in our vehicle and guided us to the first turn off about 5 kilometres away. I imagine he then walked back.

To date this is our most memorable experience of Russian life, friendship and hospitality.

Up and down hills and mountains, through creeks, and constantly comparing all the hand drawn maps, GPS directions, and Roads to Russia maps we slowly make some distance. Until finally at 6.30pm we must have made a wrong turn as the track was slowly getting worse and closing in with vegetation.

We backtracked to a logger’s camp for new directions. It is pouring with rain, the tracks are now slippery, and they offer to guide us out tomorrow morning. This we accept gratefully and park in the logger’s camp in the pouring rain.

Camp 36: Loggers Camp in the Rain

Distance Today: 157Kms

Saturday 4th August: We talked to the loggers on and off throughout the day.

We are a bit tired of just sitting but they assure us the vehicle is coming, the time just keeps changing because I think they do not know themselves. They work on a 7 days on 7 days off roster, and this is their change of shift.

There are 5 types of timber in the area; however they only cut 3 types of pine. Each tree is cut to 4 metre and very rarely 7 metre lengths. These must be perfectly round for the entire length.

We see a huge amount of wasted timber. I would say they only less than one third of the timber actually gets used. The rest they stack and burn or just leave. It seems very wasteful for lots of good timber.

The workers explain they get very little money in comparison to what it is sold for in Japan and America. This is however so true for any raw material.

The foreman also showed us edible pine cones, the blueberries, and another type of berry. Interesting was the board leafed ground plant that could be used as a poultice.

Our ‘Short Cut’ map to Lake Bikal with all the various notes from helpful locals.

A good luck charm along the way, known as Fusball Sergey ( see top of map)

Via some spectacular running creeks we finally reached the shores of Lake Baikal at 5.30pm.

Following a quick drive around ‘town’ we drive the road north, crossed the river by punt, and turned left into the Svyatoy Nos Peninsula National Park.

Here we found a relatively quiet spot on the Baikal beach, between the tens of other Russian campers and set camp. The trucks were parked within 5 metres of the waters edge and our mosquito tent set between them. We sat down to enjoy dinner and taste yet again that home made whiskey from our friends at the Zamakta Meteorological Station.

For dinner we pre-purchased fresh Omul fish from the punt and fried it over the open fire. Very nice washed down with a bottle of Red Chilean wine. We watched the sun set over this inland ‘ocean’. Recalling this inland lake contains over one fifth of the world’s fresh water, is 650Kms long, and up to 1650metre depth.

We retired to the lapping of the waves.

Suddenly we were awoken around 3am to the sound of our table collapsing. Unfortunately it was not the wind as first thought, but collapsing as someone was trying to steal it. They were also trying to take our mosquito tent. Lyn yelled out as I prepared to go outside. They were soon gone into the dunes and into the night. Fortunately we had packed most things away, but they still managed to get away with some washing, both Lyn’s and Gay’s shoes, and unfortunately half the camp table, making the rest useless.

We have had such pleasant experiences with the Russian people; I guess it was time to touch the other side also. It was a good warning to us to be careful in future.

Camp 37: Lake Baikal -Home Invasion Camp

Distance Today: 223Kms

Sunday 5th August:

That afternoon, we drove the 20 or so kilometres to the main part of the peninsula which we have been told is most beautiful. But, I think we have been spoilt with some great scenery to date, and were left disappointed, returning to another part of the lakeside beach to camp.

We were looking forward to steak and eggs this night, having purchased a bulk lump of frozen steak in Chita at the supermarket. Opening the plastic bag of now unfrozen meat it was not steak but a very big dark lump of liver. Not that I am really against liver, but it was just such a big dark red lump, running with blood, it was just too much. Around the table sounds of “yuk” etc could be heard. Lyn was then just emerging from the camper when all this commotion started and immediately dropped the eggs she was carrying. That put an end to any thoughts of steak and eggs.

We laughed all this off as it was only our first translation mistake that related to our food shopping.

We settled for saveloys, onions and potatoes.

Camp 38: Lake Baikal – Mistake Liver Camp

Distance: 41Kms

Monday 6th August:

Today we had planned to have our only swim in Lake Baikal this morning.

The sky was blue and clear at 7am but by 8 the fog started to drift across the lake and down from the mountains. By 10am visibility was down to 20metres and the temperature dropped by 15 degrees from yesterday’s 30 degrees.

With jackets now on we spent a lazy start to the day watching the seagulls eat the remains of the liver from last night.

Finally realising that nothing was going to improve we may as well hit the road towards Mongolia, via Ulan-Ude.

Crossing the punt back to Ust-Barguzin, I recognise the two Australian vehicles waiting on the other side ready to cross.

It is Herb, Jessie, John and Caris, who we had met outside Yakutsk 6 weeks previously. Very quickly we swap tails of adventure, and tails of woe, mostly vehicle related.

We also find out that their Visas to Mongolia have expired, and since ours were issued at the same time, this will also mean that ours too would have expired. It sounds like in Ulan-Ude tomorrow we must visit the Mongolian Consulate and reapply.

Arriving on the outskirts of Ulan-Ude we enjoy a roadside stall dinner of shashlik, lamb and rice, salad and a couple of beers all for under A$20 for the 4 of us.

The two trucks are now camped in the ‘bush’ outside of town. The only place we could find to pull off the road was littered with scattered garbage. This was one downside of the country I failed to understand. The Russians are so proud of what they have achieved since perestroika, and rightly so, yet there are no rubbish facilities and everything is just left where ever.

Normally the four of us eat together, but this evening it was easier to eat in our respective campers, thus closing an eye to the outside mess.

Camp 39: Ulan-Ude Rubbish Dump Camp

Distance Today: 307Kms

Total Distance to Date: 11,110Kms (1363 in 6 days)