Lake Baikal

I could think of no better way to end a Siberian adventure than to make it Lake Baikal. It is by far, one of the most spectacular things I have seen in my life.

But first I had to go to Irkutsk. Although it was an interesting city, after my amazing adventures in Krasnoyarsk and Ekaterinburg, I wasn't as thrilled by its messy and chaotic state. You could tell that the locals weren't big fans of tourists either, since they must get too many in the summer, with the way they talked to me in a huffy, irritated tone. I still enjoyed the river, crowded with ice fisherman who sat there with their poles all day long, waiting for something to happen in the frozen water.

But Baikal was everything I had hoped for, and more. when the train cleared a pass, my new friend Alex pointed out the mountains and my jaw literally dropped. They were even bigger than the ones in Krasnoyarsk, but in front of them was a HUGE lake, which was frozen solid, three meters thick. I was dazed as we trudged across, faintly reminded of a time when I had tried to cross the salt flats in the Badlands, California with my cousins. We were kids and thought that maybe if we walked far enough, we would get to the other side. But of course history repeats itself, and I'm pretty sure that after a few hours of walking I hadn't even made it halfway! But it was only the corner of the lake anyway. In parts, according a guy who worked at the hostel, the lake was 50 miles across. So much for that idea.

Baikal was refreshing in a way because of the youth hostel where we decided to spend the night. It was decidedly outdoorsy, especially with the people who came in and out, with their cross country skis or climbing gear. Jena, who was our know all on the lake and worked there, was obviously a big fan of the outdoors, and showed us hours upon hours of photos of downhill skiing adventures, kayaking trips, and biking expeditions in nearby Mongolia. "If only you had come in summer," he smiled at me wistfully, showing me all of the cool activities I was missing out on. All but one.

That evening we headed out to the Russian "banya," their version of a steamroom sauna, which felt great after a freezing day of walking outside. As soon as we got as hot as we could manage, we grabbed our towels and ran for the nearby hole in the lake, neatly cut out from the ice. I plunged myself into the freezing water, and as I went under I looked up and could see the moon and the stars shining above my head. I had to get out fast, but I walked a little slower to admire the best stars I had seen in a long time, as my friends made a mad dash for the warmth of the sauna. I thought of all the people I had met on my trip, and all of the beautiful things I had seen. Moscow seemed so different now, like a different world, but 26 hours later I was on a plane, heading back to my "reality," away from those stars. Away from a different side of Russia, so different from anything else I had ever seen.