I got the chance to visit Siberia through the efforts of my
fiance. I never really did figure out exactly how it came about, but I was
contacted by Siberian governmental officials and they asked if I would be
interested in touring Siberia, particularly the regions bordering Lake Baikol.
They wanted to start developing the tourist industry, and they needed to know
what a Western tourist would travel a long way and spend money to go see.
They decided that the only way was to have a typical Westerner travel throughout
the region, searching out touristy points of interest. Guess what?
Out of the countless millions they had to chose from, somehow I was
selected. It pays to have a well-connected fiance.
It all started with a plane flight from Moscow to Khabarovsk. Maya and I were to meet some officials there and a tentative itinerary would be laid out for us. All we knew was that we were to meet the officials at the main train station as we were to take a train from Kharbarovsk to where ever our first stop was to be. Unfortunately, there were no greeting officials to be found at the station. A rather surly station manageress informed us we were a day early. Naturally, we needed a place to stay overnight, and the manageress would be happy to provide a place for us at the station for just $15. It was only after we moved our luggage into the room that we learned that the woman had rented us the station's nursery, having evicted any children it may have held. Thus, having established myself as a cruel and heartless American, I thought it best to leave the station for a while, and see the sights in Khabarovsk (see photos below), a city with over a million population. While my stay there was short, what I did see of it was unimpressive. I did manage, though, to find an air-conditioned bar that served slightly cool Chinese beer and I drank their entire suppy of four bottles.
Upon awaking the next morning, we were told that our greeting party was at the train, and with a gleam in her eyes, told us, alas, the train was not at the station but parked about a kilometer down the track. As they had no porters, we had better just pick up our luggage and walk down the tracks to the train. It was about this time I began to doubt the wisdom of this trip and also the fact perhaps, we had brought too many changes of clothing.
So, off we went. Trudging down the track,
occasionally kicking debris off the trackbed, and with each step, my suitcases
inexplicably became heavier and heavier and I began to rue the day I went on
this trip. Then, about 20 meters ahead of us, a very attractive woman
stepped out from behind a fence and started walking up the tracks ahead of
us. Watching her from behind as she walked buoyed my spirits
immensely. After a couple hundred meters the woman climbed into a railroad
car and disappeared. Now the luggage became even more of a burden.
As we walked past the railroad car, we couldn't see the train we were supposed
to be on. There was no train, nothing but empty tracks for miles and
miles. I started to gripe to Maya, complaining that this whole trip was
another example of the distain Russian officials had for travelers. Then,
the woman we had been following polked her head out of a window and said,
"Oh, you must be the Americans we are waiting ofr"! It turned
out that the train was in fact a private railroad coach at our disposal for the
entire time of our trip. It would hook up to a passing train in any
direction we wanted to go. I was totally surprised and actually, rather
impressed. The woman, as it turned out, was one of four woman hired to
cook and clean the car while we traveled about. Additionally, there were
two additional men: One, the director of information for BAM (Baikal-Amur-Magistral
railroad), and another one whose duties were of unknown origin.
The car was very well equipped, and broken up into a kitchen, a sleeping compartment for the women, another compartment for the men, a huge stateroom for Maya and I, and a very large dining and entertaining salon. It had its own bar, and a nice entertainment center, both of which I used often in the days ahead. In fact, the first time I ever saw the Arnold Schwarzenegger film "Predator" was while chugging through the taiga (Russian for boreal forest) in eastern Siberia.
Our railroad coach was hooked up to the back of a passing train, and thus started my trip on the BAM, the railroad that the Far-East military command wanted as a more secure route from any potential threat (read that as Chinese) and ran roughly parallel to the Trams-Siberian railraod, but several hundred kilometers north of it. The BAM was built in one of the most isolated and inhospitable regions of the world and it is remarkable that it was built at all. (A very good history of the construction of the BAM is by A. Bates. Click here if you are interested.) The railraod runs for thousands of kilometers through nearly impenetrable and seemingly endless forests, broken only by lakes, marshes, swamps, and an occasional river. There are no roads, no hint of man anywhere except for the very infrequent town that served as a construction camp and great places to dump all the dissidents and other various nefarious enemies of the state in.
The BAM does not rocket down its tracks. On occasion we would hit a breathtaking 20mph but usually we rumbled and swayed along at a leisurely 10 mph. Initially, I rather enjoyed our pace as it gave me ample time to climb up to the roof of the coach and sit there, enjoying the fresh air. However, once you see 20 miles of trees going past, the view loses its appeal. I took a few photos, mostly of any hole in the forest and the infrequent little towns we would stop at. The train was the only source of delivering supplies to any of the hardy souls living out in the taiga, so we stopped, and I would walk around. You may view these by clicking on BAM photos below.
