The Pearl of Siberia

Wednesday 2 June 1999 – Friday 4 June 1999                 

We had decided to stop off at Irkutsk (once known as the “Paris of Siberia”, at least to Russians) in order to visit Lake Baikal, one of the legitimate natural wonders of the world.  As it transpired, Irkutsk itself had little to offer but as we stepped off the train that morning, we felt as if this was our first taste of the real Russia away from the cultural and political centers of the country.

There was not much choice in hotel accommodation in Irkutsk, so we set off on foot from the station to a hotel across the river and charmed our way into the “Russian” wing for no less than a 75% discount!  We were less than impressed by their offer of a tour to Lake Baikal for $90 per person, however, so decided to head out first thing the next morning and make our own way by local transport.  First, however, we were both desperately in need of a shower and for once (hallelujah!) we had hot water on demand.

The following day, we set out early to walk to the bus station and pick up the 09.00 bus to Listvyanka on the shore of Lake Baikal.  We were enticed to seek out a bakery en route, assured by the guidebook that it offered the best coffee in Irkutsk: an irresistible lure given the quality of coffee we had found elsewhere in Russia.  Sadly, only the cockroaches were of top quality, and as Eric reconciled himself yet again to tea, we consoled ourselves with the purchase of two bars of Cadbury’s “Fruit & Nut”.

Once we reached the bus station, our next challenge was to figure out which bus went to Listvyanka.  We had assumed that tickets would be sold on the bus but soon decided we were wrong as we saw person after person wandering around with a white piece of paper in their hands and a stern looking woman checking people onto the bus as they battled for seats.   We finally found the ticket desk in a nearby building and as we made our way to the front of the queue (Eric managing to restrain himself from intercepting any would-be queue-bargers) we were frantically shooed away, presumably in an attempt to warn us we were about to miss the bus.  Thanks to a mechanical hitch, in which every male passenger except Eric got out to push-start the bus, we managed to squeeze ourselves on board, securing the last two seats (so we thought) at opposite ends of the bus.  But as the journey progressed, yet more and more people got on, taking up their positions down the central aisle and hanging on for dear life as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

    Our first sight on arriving in Listvyanka was a small gathering of local people smoking fish (Omul) over wood fires on the dock.  We wandered back along the road to a small local museum and found a track from there up the mountain to a vantage point that afforded astounding views of the lake.  Although Baikal is not the world’s largest lake by surface area, it is certainly immense, and the list of superlatives attributable to it is staggering:  

The views were amazing.

Before heading back to Irkutsk, we both sat by the shores of the lake and bathed our hands and feet in the freezing-cold water, which, according to tradition, will give us each an extra 5 years of life.  They say that if you immerse your whole body you get an extra 10, but we decided the promised benefits were dwarfed by the risk of instant death by heart attack.  We made our way back to town on the hydrofoil and then a local bus into the centre of town – watching the road fly by through the holes in the floor and wandering whether we would make it round the next bend.  

We booked our tickets on to Mongolia that evening, leaving on the Trans-Mongolian to Ulaan Baatar the following day.  In the time remaining, we set out to visit the local museum and the few sights Irkutsk boasts in the guidebook.  Certainly nothing to write home about.

And so, by early evening, we were on our way again, this time for the most exciting and long-awaited part of our journey:  Mongolia.