Kamchatka: how to spend your vacation not worse than Dmitry Medvedev
Dmitry Medvedev spent his latest (unfortunately, only three-day) vacation on Kamchatka. Unlike him, “RBC Style” reporter was not lumbered with responsibility of country-level importance and that is why he got to spend there two whole weeks. And saw a lot more than Prime Minister.
Possums are very silly and square creatures. They always travel using same paths and are very easy to hunt: you have to set up traps in the evening, collect them in the morning and receive the award — not only for the pretty pelage, but also as a thank you for pest extermination from the government of New Zealand. That’s what Lindsay says, and he cannot be mistrusted. In the late 70s, when Lindsey was young, he managed to save enough money to buy a house — just by hunting possums for three months. “It’s wasn’t too big” — Lindsay is laughing, pleased with impression he made.
It’s amazing how I learn about twists and turns of New Zealand hunting… on Kamchatka.
Lindsay is mixing up cocktails for me (he’s a cook, a bartender and life of the party), I listen to his stories, and our ship is slowly sailing from Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky to Anadyr along the Koryak shore: 300 kilometers with no villages, whatsoever. Every morning, sometimes even twice a day, ship throws us out on dry land — like it doesn’t love us anymore — and we find ourselves again and again in a bay forgotten by people and God or on an island where only birds, arctic foxes and brown bears don’t need any permission orders.
Expeditionary tourism — that’s how what we do is called officially by the recreational industry. It is extremely popular among Europeans, Americans, Australians, but not Russians. Although it’s definitely worth tasting.
To give you the picture: imagine two poles. On one side — Fedor Konyukhov and his solo travels on shifty boats through the entire oceans, on the other side — cruise ships with seven decks. We are somewhere in between, but with a perceptible roll to Fedor Filippovich. Our deck is high enough not be overflowed, but at the same time we don’t get to see the sea from the fifth floor height, slacking up near the waterpool.
Ode to proper footwear
Boots. Durable rain-boots and binoculars. Forgetting these two objects would probably be the biggest mistake ever made if you’re getting ready for a cruise. Everyday landing operation on Kamchatka’s shore is just as exciting as it is moisturizing. Although, it’s surely possible to go ashore in trainers and not get your feet wet — all you have to do is majecticly step over rostrum, when your comrades have already jumped into a tidal wave and drugged the nimble Zodiak motorboat into the sand. The question is — how to look your comrades in the eyes after a thing like that?
Binoculars are something you need to enjoy the trip genuinely, not to match your bejewelled with Swarovski and Leikas companions. There certainly will be situations, when a brown bear suddenly bursts into the view from behind the hummock and ends up so closely, that you can count all the bald patches on its fur while your life flashes before your eyes. There also will be situations, when a whale appears two meters away from your boat. Proper optics will fortune you with twice or even three times more impressions and perceptions. Steller’s sea eagle won’t look right into your soul unless you have got it.
Fortunately, expeditionary ship is equipped with adequate supplies of rain boots of all sizes and your companions will certainly share a pair of extra-binoculars with you.
Nevertheless, the most important thing in an expedition isn’t about binoculars or boots; it’s definitely about emotions and people.
People: both a writer and a yachtsman
Commander Islands have three main points of interest: Vitus Bering’s grave, marine mammals’ rookery and Sergey Pasenyuk. He is a tourism instructor, a woodworker, a welder, an art teacher, a fisherman, a hunter and a yachtsman. Recently he moved a yacht from Mexico to Hawaii, but came back to Nikolskoye — the “capital” of Commander Islands — as soon as the work was done. It may be not too difficult without him here, but it’s definitely too boring. He is a local legend, a magnet that attracts both local children and tourists.
In Nikolskoye village there is an official museum with ordinary, but pretty qualitative exposition about conquest of severe North. There is also a Pasenyuk gallery — mussy, odd and eclectic — full of skulls that belong to either foxes or raccoons. Here Marilyn Monroe is smiling beneath the skeleton of extinct Steller’s sea cow, which Sergey put together himself, piece (bone) by piece. Instead of exposition stands, there are paintings and photographs disorderly hanging on the walls, piles of books laying everywhere — all that strictly looked after by the picture of Gennady Zeuganov crowned with a “Buy some food for the last time” slogan (the ones who remember that president campaign will probably never forget it).
Nikolskoye itself is a great example of relentless struggle of people against time and nature. Human retreat is easy to see: the very first inshore line of buildings — former repair shops that used to maintain already non-existent fishing fleet — is falling apart. Although as for the village, there are many signs of offensive: this is a modern qualitative school, this is a kindergarten that seems to be able to fit not only all kids on the island, but also their parents and grand parents.
On the other side of the island, distanced from people, there is a reserve area with enormous rookeries of sea bears, sea lions, sea dogs and sea apes. Back in Bering’s time their number counted in hundreds of thousands, after some time — just hundreds, this is how relentlessly people hunted them. Surprisingly, the Steller’s sea cow is the only kind that didn’t survive back then. Nowadays population has repaired its health a bit. It would be easy to imagine the picture for those who have seen a public beach in Sochi in June. It’s not exactly the holiday time yet, so free sunbeds are in stock — right with loud noise. Kids are driving crazy their mothers; mothers are literally roaring and calling their kids to order. Locals (arctic foxes — in our case) are wandering among the vacationists, looking for opportunities to make good at another’s expense. The vacationists lazily wave them off.
Danger awaits from the seaside. A fresh deep wound on a side of a massive male, who is keeping eye on its harem while lying on a shore, is a sign of a recent date with a killer whale. And he isn’t exactly in the best shape. “Overstayed in alphas. Next summer some of the younger ones will take over” — Victor, reserve employee and our guide, shares his forecast. I look at the pack leader, domineering his harem, and realize he won’t leave voluntarily…
History: a hundred years of conquering
It’s ninth day of the expedition (well, this report has some chronology issues). It’s one of those places many heard of but few been to. We’ll talk about Rio de Janeiro some other time; right now it’s about Natalia Bay. A song with the same name played by Gorodnitsky back in the 70s imprinted that toponym like a tattoo in the minds of all bard song lovers. Imprinted deadly:
Clouds float like a shoal,
Curling above the bay.
Four hundred women — and not a single man:
Where would they come from, hey?
Felicitous image and intrigue are the most important part of any artwork. Gorodnitsky did a great job: 400 women, no men — you’ll memorize it whether you want it or not. And go on wondering: why women, why exactly 400, where are all men, how do you get there? Gorodnitsky leaves us with no answers, so we’ll have to find them on our own.
If you walk along the bay shore (rather narrow slice of land, sea on the left side, rocks and bushy cedars on the right side) from one edge to another, you will be able to witness chronologically the whole history of local area conquest for the last hundred or so years — and it won’t take you more, than a half hour. On the very south side of bay there are the remains of Japanese fish factory: a couple of rotting cars, some American machinery of a decent quality and thousands and thousands of rotting tin cans. No, Japanese never occupied Kamchatka. This is one of the factories built by Japanese back in 20s in terms of concession signed by Lenin himself.
To be honest, in the beginning Lenin wanted to grant a concession (Kamchatka) to Americans. He even carried on negotiations with local billionaire Vanderlip. Without delay he offered to buy Kamchatka, same scenario as Alaska, in trade of Soviet Russia recognition by the United States. Lenin became confused due to such impudence. And then it came out that the billionaire was a counterfeit, so that’s why all concessions — both fish and oil — went from Americans to Japanese.
If local Koryaks don’t lie (and why would they?) the little Japanese factory functioned properly until 1945, providing Mikado army with fish almost up to its surrender. It’s easy to believe, knowing that Japanese oil concession on Sakhalin Island existed happily until 1944.
Soviet fish factory, built about a kilometer away from the Japanese one in 1930, lasted a bit longer. But still, why women? That’s the way of the life here. Firstly, there were war and men shortage, and then it turned out that assigning Far Eastern colonies “graduates” for hard work is much easier than bringing workers from the continent. During his visit in 1972 Gorodnitsky witnessed so-called student detachments that in fact were nothing but girls-moonlighters.
By the time the factory languished some men actually appeared — there was a borderline tollgate opened, not too far along the bay shore. Today all that’s left is a tower, soldier casern and more or less decent officer cottage with a seedbed. Factory remains include giant manufactory frameworks and pits for fish salting. All in all men withstood less than women did. In approximately 1985 or 1986 tollgate financing was cut off — in order to save budget.
Nowadays this place is only visited by tourists and poachers. Both hunt birds: some use photo cameras, others — traps.
Emotions: rapture
Write down the coordinates: 62°32′24″ north, 177°03′09″ east, and another one: 61°76′79″ north, 174°15′51″ east. If you would like to see whales for sure — that’s where you want to go. The reason is specific oceanbed that causes massive plankton gathering.
– When we get to the shore, boats don’t crowd and get in each other’s way. There will be enough whales for everybody, — Rodney instructs tourists. He’s the boss on our ship, but let’s not talk about him yet.
Rodney’s words seem unbelievable here, on board. Morning fog (that is soon to be called day fog and then evening fog as it only changes its thickness, color and humidity throughout the day) only shows us only a bit of grey coast and a line of abandoned buildings. No whales in sight.
It all changes near the shore. First fountain, second, third. Hundred meters away, fifty, thirty… Staying calm and patient is the most important in this situation. Just remember — there will be enough whales for everybody. And exactly when you leave your spot, a whale will appear in sight right there. So the best tactic is to slowly heave aback and, at some point, two giants will come up to the surface one or two meters away, almost lifting the boat above the water on their backs. It seems that it’s possible to reach out and touch them — with a certain skill and a risk to fall overboard. However, there’s no time for that thought to cross your mind: charmed, you only watch them slowly come up to the surface and then slowly go back under the water.
There’s a score or two of whales near the shore; they appear on the right and on the left side of the ship. It seems that if you stare at one point on the surface for a couple of minutes, a whale will surely appear there. Although, that’s exactly how it is.
It was the Opuka bay: second coordinates listed above — first village on the shore after 300 kilometers of solitude — Chuukese Meynypilgyno. Here you will be welcomed by white whales, not grey ones. You can easily see them right from the shore. There is a narrow bay bar, that seems to be populated only with seagulls and bears at the ratio of million to one. You can seat down in the sand and watch the restless smoke blue sea in the thickened day mist, as white backs slowly curve and disappear here and there.
Hundreds of seagulls seem to be watching the same scene at a respectful distance from you. You’d think — why would they admire this if they see it every day? The process of observing sea and whale backs puts you in a meditative state of peace. Meditation sessions might be standing high in seagulls estimation as well. It occurs to you that no Moscow fitness-center and no coach will be able to help you to reach the same state of mind. Now the only little thing left to be done is to convince “Aeroflot” to open up a direct flight Moscow — Meynypilgyno. Although, it may be a bit troublesome — since there are only 367 people living in the village…
People: a fisherman from Dushanbe
– You know Oveckin? No? What about Malkin? You don’t know Malkin? How come, you’re American!? — cheerful gastarbeiter Cosh from sunny Dushanbe interrogates Megan from sunny California.
Megan doesn’t like hockey, she likes traveling. Koryak shore has more meaning to your heart than Alexander Ovechkin. Here meeting a human being is like meeting an ostrich in Moscow: theoretically possible, but only if you know right places. In fact, Cosh and 7 friends of his from the fisherman cartel seem to be the only residents of this area for 100–150 kilometers both ways. All they have — a small house with an attic, instrument shed and three boats.
– So how did “Barcelona” play with “Juventus”? — Cosh’s question catches off guard.
It’s July, League of Champions final was a month and a half ago, and you slowly start to realize that someone really doesn’t know the score. He has been working here for two months now and he doesn’t get to see Neymar or Suares’ goals: only fish and bears. Standing out against a background — sea on one side, Shlyupochnaya bay and lines of cliffs with a bit of mist on the other side — Cosh really doesn’t understand what we are doing here.
– What is to see here? Seals and bears wander around all night, yell, and even bathroom walk becomes scary. You better come to Fergana. Yeah, that’s the real beauty we got there. There is a mosque: morning light makes it yellow, evening light — red. Americans wanted to buy it, but we didn’t sell it. And on the main square there are two madrasahs and a lake in between of them, and everything reflects in it. That’s where you should go. And what’s here? Only fish. You wake up — it’s fish, you go to sleep — and it’s fish. And bears.
No wild nature amateur would agree with him. For birdwatchers these places are just like promised lands. Theoretically you can even find a sandpiper’s nest — the rarest bird, there are only about 150 pairs of those left and even in proper living conditions it’s hard to find one nest for 30 square kilometers area. However, Shlyupochaya shore turns out not to be included in that 30 square kilometers list. Only things we find after a long walk are a walrus skeleton, a twisted rope, a shoe sole, a fifty year old glass bobber from Japanese fishing net and a hundred year old Koryak village — crumbled and overgrown with grass dugouts. We also found nests of red-neck sandpipers, Mongolian plovers, Siberian buzzards, ring dotterels. There are definitely more birds here than humans.
Perception: adrenaline shock
There are moments when Kamchatka Russian language is nothing similar to Moscow Russian. “There are no bears here” — that’s what you hear getting ready to come on shore on Karaginsky island. And then you actually jump off the boat into a track of footprints that can’t belong to any other creature. Translated from local Russian to Moscow Russian “no bears” means “there were no bears here for the last 5 minutes and there won’t be any bears for another five minutes”, since the shore is easy to look through.
Brown bear on Kamchatka is not the same as a polar bear in Arctic region. For example, he is not scared of a wooden stick — it doesn’t remind him of walrus tusks, as it does to the polar bear. The best self-defense device is a gun. But we haven’t got one: if a man from New Zealand carries a gun around Kamchatka someone may take it as an invasion. That’s why we have to rely on whistle pipe, 2 tin cups and a signal pistol — anything that can produce a loud noise that in theory is supposed to scare a bear off.
It is checked in Opuka bay — they really get scared off. We found out about that when one of them locals suddenly cut us from the road from abandoned village to the ships. Judging by appearance it was a three-year-old, which just recently left its parents custody. Those are the ones you have to be aware of the most — teen age, unstable state of mind, they don’t know life and they learn it by making mistake, often while communicating to people. Three shots from the signal pistol had a sobering effect.
Grown-up bears are definitely more careful. They try to stay away from people, watching them with no shown interest and paying attention to food search.
Experience: overcoming
Peter and Paul bays are right next to each other. If you sail on board of “Zodiac” — it’s 10 minutes tops: you leave Peter, sail round a cape, pass walrus rookery, and here you are at Paul’s — smooth surface, snowy mountains: clouds roll over the peaks and waterfall down.
There is another way — over those mountains, by a small mountain pass at a height of 500 meters. It’s a refreshing, as our guides say, 4-hour long journey, an easy tracking. Everyone believes that. However, July sun melts down the ice on mountaintops and slopes become an obstacle course supplied with cheerful spring streams every 5–10 meters or even mountain rivers with width up to a meter. And in valleys there is snow.
The sun is shining, your mind is where the summer is, but your legs are half-deep in winter. Brain is exploding from this dissonance and doesn’t even notice when rivers start to flow in a different direction. The pass is left behind.
After a long way down we see Rodney who waits for us on the boat. “Rodney, did you know that this tracking was going to be an alpinism?” — I ask him& He smiles. He knew. Rodney knows everything. He’s been organizing expedition tours around the world for thirty years now, the last fifteen — in Russia as well. He rented a ship from one of the Eastern universities and improved it for expeditionary tourism needs. The comfort level on the board may be called a Spartan chic — a traveller receives a lot more comfort than meteorologists who used to carry out their scientific expeditions on that ship, but, of course, it still offers less than a cruise liner ship.
Almost all cabins are taken. But there’s one strange thing. I spent two weeks on Kamchatka with a photographer Julian from Valencia, a deer farm owner Michael from New Zealand, a teacher Anat from Haifa, a violoncellist from Nevada, and Russia in all that Babylon is represented poorly by a Saint-Petersburg engineer Irina alone.
However, Rodney says that usually it’s not like this: “Lately Russians start to discover how great it is, they start to develop interest for such places and expeditionary tourism itself. A ship makes it possible for you to get to a place no one can get to by land and see places that only dozens or (hardly) hundreds people have seen before.
After we go ashore in Anadyr Rodney will fill up his food and water supplies, take 30–40 new tourists aboard and go farther North, along the Chuukese coast, through the Bering Strait into the Chuukese Sea, to the Wrangel Island, to watch polar bears, many of whom choose this place as a maternity and nursing home for some reason.
I guess I should go ashore. It’s enough for the first time. I should probably save the Wrangel Island for the next time. Or maybe, New Zealand? Lindsey’s homeland — an island with a total area of 20 square meters — is known for having the largest density of kiwi bird population. He has a small guest house there for wild nature lovers. He even asked me to come. Although he doesn’t really know when he himself will come back there to welcome me in person. Cruise trips — they drag you in. It was my first one. Lindsey sails to Wrangel Island for the fifty-first time. And that’s one of those cases when you can’t catch up, but it’s definitely worth a try.
(c) Viktar Dziatlikovich, RBC-Style
(c) translation: Liudmila Kalinina
