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Crossing Lake Baikal
A short story from Siberia, with photos.
One in a series of travel tales from the eventual book, Common Sense and Whiskey
by Bill Murray. Visit the Common Sense and Whiskey blog
A short story from Siberia, with photos.
One in a series of travel tales from the eventual book, Common Sense and Whiskey
by Bill Murray. Visit the Common Sense and Whiskey blog
For some time the Poruchik aimed for a promontory I couldn’t find on the map, and finally swung hard to starboard for the crossing. A low blanket of gray from the west, from Irkutsk, replaced the sunshine of the last two days.
There were arrangements for later. Someone from Ulan Ude "will meet you at Kluevka (a place you are going to). This is definitely." Made it like the Russian Autonomous Republic of Buryatia was a foreign country, not the other side of the lake.
And who knew, maybe it would be.
When at last we swung away from the snug western shore and into open water, the temperature plunged. In an hour and forty minutes, the mountains of the Ardaban Range east of Baikal loomed tantalizingly close, breaking above the clouds.
Back home, imagining Exotic Siberia, I thought it would be fun to "get out on the lake," like it would be fun to have a nice piece of candy. But Baikal’s gunwale gray middle slapped us humble, tossing and pounding the Poruchik to make clear that it's a mighty inland sea. Finally, out in the middle, all you could do onboard was just hold on.
There were arrangements for later. Someone from Ulan Ude "will meet you at Kluevka (a place you are going to). This is definitely." Made it like the Russian Autonomous Republic of Buryatia was a foreign country, not the other side of the lake.
And who knew, maybe it would be.
When at last we swung away from the snug western shore and into open water, the temperature plunged. In an hour and forty minutes, the mountains of the Ardaban Range east of Baikal loomed tantalizingly close, breaking above the clouds.
Back home, imagining Exotic Siberia, I thought it would be fun to "get out on the lake," like it would be fun to have a nice piece of candy. But Baikal’s gunwale gray middle slapped us humble, tossing and pounding the Poruchik to make clear that it's a mighty inland sea. Finally, out in the middle, all you could do onboard was just hold on.
For some time the Poruchik aimed for a promontory I couldn’t find on the map, and finally swung hard to starboard for the crossing. A low blanket of gray from the west, from Irkutsk, replaced the sunshine of the last two days.
There were arrangements for later. Someone from Ulan Ude "will meet you at Kluevka (a place you are going to). This is definitely." Made it like the Russian Autonomous Republic of Buryatia was a foreign country, not the other side of the lake.
And who knew, maybe it would be.
When at last we swung away from the snug western shore and into open water, the temperature plunged. In an hour and forty minutes, the mountains of the Ardaban Range east of Baikal loomed tantalizingly close, breaking above the clouds.
Back home, imagining Exotic Siberia, I thought it would be fun to "get out on the lake," like it would be fun to have a nice piece of candy. But Baikal’s gunwale gray middle slapped us humble, tossing and pounding the Poruchik to make clear that it's a mighty inland sea. Finally, out in the middle, all you could do onboard was just hold on.
There were arrangements for later. Someone from Ulan Ude "will meet you at Kluevka (a place you are going to). This is definitely." Made it like the Russian Autonomous Republic of Buryatia was a foreign country, not the other side of the lake.
And who knew, maybe it would be.
When at last we swung away from the snug western shore and into open water, the temperature plunged. In an hour and forty minutes, the mountains of the Ardaban Range east of Baikal loomed tantalizingly close, breaking above the clouds.
Back home, imagining Exotic Siberia, I thought it would be fun to "get out on the lake," like it would be fun to have a nice piece of candy. But Baikal’s gunwale gray middle slapped us humble, tossing and pounding the Poruchik to make clear that it's a mighty inland sea. Finally, out in the middle, all you could do onboard was just hold on.
