Sorry for the Group Email

After the incredible heat of the train, it was discouraging to step off the platform in Irkutsk and find Another Russian City. Sputtering Ladas and overloaded buses skittered over the ice in the -14 degree weather, and we were prepared for another 48 hours of blank faces and museums.

How happy it was, then, to climb onto our bright purple bus and be whisked to Lake Baikal. You can pick your favourite Lake Baikal statistic and it will almost certainly be eye-popping. It holds a fifth of the world’s fresh water. It is over a kilometre and a half deep. If the rest of the world’s drinking water shot into space tomorrow, Lake Baikal would keep us going for years. Alternatively, if Lake Baikal’s water shot into space, it would take all the rivers in the world more than a year to refill it.

It would be a great shame if Lake Baikal emptied, of course, because it is an area of astonishing scientific interest. Over 3,000 different species live in its depths; more than 2,000 of them are not found anywhere else. Its water is astonishingly pure; so pure you could literally bottle it and sell it. Some do. So intense is its oxygenation that those unlucky enough to drown in its freezing waters are seldom recovered.

It is the most perfect habitat in the world for seals, and is the home of the only fresh water seals in the world. It’s no surprise they chose the lake; apart from man they have no natural predators, spare ravens picking off the odd cub. They eat vast quantities of Golumyanka, one of Baikal’s unique fish. The Golumyanka is perfect for seals, comprised of 35 per cent vitamin A. As a result of their perfect habitat, Lake Baikal seals live for up to twice as long as seals elsewhere: up to 65 years.

Even the Golumyanka is interesting. Its body is unique, and unlike most other fish it gives birth to live young instead of eggs. At night it swims near the surface; during the day it sinks to the very depths of the lake. It is a scientific miracle that it doesn’t burst like a balloon when it reaches the surface; scientists can’t quite explain why.

When we arrived Lake Baikal was surrounded by snow and pine-covered hills. The lake was completely frozen over; between January and May it literally becomes a highway, although around a dozen cars and lorries per year wave goodbye to their friends with a cheery “back for supper!”, only to end up vanishing through the ice. The accidents are almost always fatal. The lake’s extraordinary natural beauty makes it hard to believe that Siberia was once the most dreaded place on Earth.

But, as Colin Thubron notes in In Siberia, it was. Thousands were sent to Siberian work camps during Stalin’s time, working 14 hour days, and living in tents. In the winter, says Thubron, even the guards and their dogs froze to death.

Prisoners were given 800 grams of bread every day; as their output in the mines decreased, so did their rations. Eventually they would starve to death. Today there is no monument. “I was dogged by the idea of a helpless natural collusion, in which everyone was guilty, everyone innocent.”

Thubron spends his time in Siberia visiting tiny Siberian settlements and drinking tea with toothless babushkas, and dodging vodka-addicted old drunks. It’s safe to say he wouldn’t be seen dead in Listvyanka. Listvyanka is a tourist trap even the British would be proud of. Choose the wrong place to eat and you’ll be relieved of the entire contents of your wallet. But, this being Russia, choose the right place and the odds are you’ll be relieved of your teeth, wallet and watch: we were in town for 48 hours and were challenged to two fights.

The Lake is, however, beautiful. The lake freezes to a depth of up to 10 meters in winter, so you can walk across it. Most of the time it’s impossible to tell you’re walking on frozen ice, but every now and then there is a muffled boom, like a bass drum being soundly beaten several valleys away. The booms eventually come closer, until they are replaced by a loud popping noise, which races closer until it is literally under your feet. This is the sound of the ice cracking; the water beneath upsets the ice. To make matters worse, Baikal is sat on top of a fault line. Our old friend Thubron helpfully points out that sometimes a six-foot wide crack may open up unexpectedly, condemning anyone on top of it to an unexpected dip. If not helped sharply, I can’t imagine you’d last more than a few minutes. Both days we were there the temperature didn’t reach more than -5; mostly it hovered steadily around the -15 mark.

The Lake Baikal Museum was an unexpected highlight. Upstairs a friendly Russian woman with whiskers and shaky hands showed us around the exhibits; stuffed examples of Baikal wildlife and topographical maps of the lake, mostly. Every now and then she would bump into an exhibit, scattering artefacts all over the floor, which she would leave to clear up later. The most sound advice was to never walk over the lake if there were no footprints; under all that snow it’s impossible to tell how much ice is beneath you.

Downstairs at the museum is an aquarium, the highlight for most is the pair of freshwater seals. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness, though. They were confined to a tank perhaps 15 or 20 feet long, and were so bored they had literally taken to bouncing off the walls. And yet, just a few hundred meters away was a habitat so unthinkably wonderful for seals that their life expectancy would be double that of their salt-water cousins.

It’s a fabulous place to walk, as well. Almost fabulous. Lake Baikal is very cold, and that means ice. Within ten hours I had managed to collapse into the snow twice. The first was a straightforward pole-axing. My feet went from under me and I slid down a hill on my backside, painfully jarring my wrist in the process. The seconds time I fell so heavily no-one even laughed. My right foot vanished from under me, and I performed a dainty pirouette on the heel of my left. My arms flailing uselessly I pitched idiotically forwards, landing face-first on the pack ice. To make matters worse I landed directly on my camera. I’m not sure if you’ve ever had the pleasure of jamming something expensive and fragile into your sternum, but as experiences go I suggest avoiding it.

But, dust yourself off, and you’ll discover there’s even a ski-run, complete with a chairlift, and the most fabulous views from the top. We stood and looked out over the harbour, which was the only unfrozen part of the lake we could see. Gradually, the sky turned a furious orange and the sun dropped below the hills, and so it was that Lake Baikal became our favourite place in Russia so far.

Tags: another 48 hours, baikal, blank faces, buses, degree weather, drinking water, fresh water, irkutsk, kilometre, ladas, lake baikal, miracle, natural predators, oxygenation, purple bus, quantities, rest of the world, rivers in the world, Russia, russian city, statistic, trans-siberian, water seals