Until embarking on the Trans Siberian I had never heard of Lake Baikal. It's the world’s deepest lake at 1,637 meters deep and 636 kilometers long. It’s said to contain almost one fifth of the worlds unfrozen water. With more water than the Great Lakes combined it’s like a sea within Siberia.
I had a nice day on the train ride from Ulan Ude to Irkutsk and arrived in the evening as a thunderstorm began to clear. I then walked a mile or so to a hostel and checked into a 7 bed dorm situated in an old Soviet flat. It’s a homey place with lots of room and a good sized kitchen. I shared it with five French travelers coming the other direction on the Trans Siberian railway.
The next morning I walked another mile or so to the bus station and caught a mini bus to another place I had never heard of, Olkhon Island. The island is situated on Lake Baikal and is known not only for its marvelous scenery but as a spiritual place steeped in old world Shamanic history. It’s a region still inhabited by Buryat people who are closely related to those of Mongolia. There’s a rustic village of 1500 people that’s geared towards accommodating summer visitors seeking a quiet place to relax. For me I figured three nights in village of Khuzhir would be perfect before my next leg on the Trans Siberian which will be over 2 days in length.
I left Irkutsk in a packed van of 14 people. It was a mix of 3 young Buryat males, a few older people amidst young and two women in their late twenties with a penchant for style that’s uniquely Russian and fashion oriented. After a couple of hours in the cramped van the driver and person sitting in front, who appeared to be his friend, made a quick stop for cigarettes and something to drink without giving us passengers a moment of thought to allow for a bathroom break. A few kilometers after the quick stop an old man on board began to angrily complain about what I assumed was the inconsiderate behavior of the driver. The driver quickly pulled over and everyone got out to relieve themselves wherever they seemed fit. An old lady hobbled into the woods for privacy.
The road deteriorates as you approach the ferry on Lake Baikal for Olkhon and once on the Island it’s a bumpy wash boarded road to the sandy road village of Khuzhir located roughly halfway up the western shore. There's not an ounce of pavement anywhere on the Island. The island itself is a mix of forest and broad wide open hills with plenty of lake views from most any open area.
Upon arrival the van made its rounds dropping people off at various places offering accommodation. I hadn’t booked ahead as I knew it wouldn’t be a problem finding a place. The problem though is everything is in Russian and hardly anyone speaks English. I decided to start where most every non Russian speaking backpacker goes and that’s Nakitas.
Nakitas is kind of a village within the village. It offers accommodation with full board, English speaking staff, and a number of facilities on premises including bar, restaurant, dining hall etc. The price is reasonable by western standards and an obvious choice for those seeking easy. I decided to try it for one night just to get situated but I wanted to see the rooms first. I was quoted a price and took a look around.
The first thing I noticed was how packed it was with foreign backpackers and it lacked an authentic feel. Something about the place didn’t hit me right. However, the rooms looked ok so I thought I’d give it a go anyway. When I went to check in there had been a mix up with the original quoted price and I was going to have to pay a little more for something extra that I didn’t see as extra at all. I nicely told the lady at check in that I’d prefer to look around town a little more but might come back. She came across quite rudely by saying, “Fine, Whatever”. I was instantly turned off and hit the sandy streets a walking.
The option to camp was a real option but I kind of wanted some interaction and a little Russian culture. I settled on a family run summer establishment with simple small cabins and very basic but adequate facilities. Along with a good feeling about the place I was enthusiastically greeted by Dmitri, a man in his twenties who has a talent for speaking English and a desire to do so. With a thick Russian accent he acted as interpreter between myself and the property manager. I settled on 3 nights with 3 dinners and got a little better price for the package than I would have at Nakitas.
The village of Khuzhir is very rustic and basic. The streets are lined with old charming wood built structures surrounded by unattractive wooden fences. Cows and large stray dogs roam freely. It doesn’t make for a particularly good first impression but after a walking around a bit and strolling down to the lake shore the place has a nice appeal that quickly grows on you.
Khuzhir is very quiet and sometimes it seems like there’s hardly anyone around until a Russian built 4wd van zips buy whipping up a dust cloud. Main Street is very wide. Nondescript bars and shops line the way. It’s somewhat like Mongolia but it’s obviously European. I was reminded of this when I saw two attractive Russian women dressed to the hilt navigating soft sand in high heels as a vehicle passed turning the air into a dusty airbrush sort of hue. The contrast was heightened by the woman’s purple seductively cut dress. It was kind of surreal. After all, this isn’t Manhattan. It’s Olkhan Island in Siberia. Wish I’d had my camera on me.
My first evening was spent drinking beer and talking to Dmitri after stuffing myself with home cooked traditional Russian fare prepared by Olga. Around 11 o’clock I called it a night but found out that I missed out the next day as vodka and beer flowed freely until 5 am. Dmitri explained to me how Russians love to sit next to Lake Baikal and just drink. This is especially true on a Saturday night.
The following night, Sunday, I was feeling a little more chipper so I met up with an Australian couple who I have be bumping into since China. They raved about Saturday night. We went to the bar that they were at the night before but naturally, being Sunday, it was more quiet. In the corner sat a middle aged couple, Alexi and Helen, who were just finishing off a bottle of Vodka. They invited us to join them but didn’t speak but a couple of words of English. Obviously sauced but super friendly and full of smiles they enthusiastically engaged us in conversation. All in Russian off course except for the odd English word thrown in just enough to give us a clue as to what we were talking about.
In the course of 2 hours we talked about politics and life, drank vodka, shook hands numerous times, drank beer, took pictures of each other, and got invited to stay with them in Irkutsk. Alexi asked me my name about 50 times as his cute red headed wife or friend giggled like school girl. They were an especially warm and friendly couple but I must admit it was a bit of a workout. It’s frustrating when you can’t clearly communicate but I really appreciated their hospitality.
I had heard about how you can get drawn into these sort of things in Russia and how hard it can be to resist. In the end though I thought it was pretty cool. So far I get the impression that Russians generally come off kind of rough and hard on the outside but sit down and throw back a shot of vodka and you’re liable to experience some of the friendliest and most hospitable people anywhere.
Olkhon is a big island and there are plenty of things to do for the outdoor enthusiast. Most people take advantage of an excursion or fishing trip but I’ve decided to just hang around the village and lake shore. There’s plenty of hiking and mountain biking but it’s also especially good for running. Since Mongolia I’ve been working in a run whenever I can. Olkhon is especially good for running with numerous lightly worn 4wd paths and trails going all over the place. Today I ran for an hour on trails to the summit of a hilltop peak that afforded awesome views of Khuzhir village and the lake.
For now I’ll enjoy the rest of my time here. There are a couple of nearby beaches and today I might brave a quick breath taking dip. Apparently if you jump in the lake three consecutive times it has some kind of mystical healing power.
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