September 22nd, 2008 ~ Snotty Days on the Holy Nose

A Map of the Holy Nose

It's been snotty on the Nose. Congested weather. Sniffling skies. But even though the Nose blows, we've had a very good time here.

Halfway up the eastern shore of Lake Baikal and enclosed in Zabaikal'skii National Park is a large, mountainous peninsula shaped like the head of that great American icon Woody Woodpecker. At least as I study the map that's what it looks like to me. To the Russians it resembles a prodigious proboscis, and they have given the name Holy Nose to the peninsula and high ridge running its length.

We've tried for two days to summit the Holy Nose. Our intent has been to examine the trails that lead to the top and suggest ways they can be improved. We were also eager to stand on top if only so we could finally stop coming up with bad one-liners about picking a Nose route.

Beach by the Nose

A couple of evenings ago we met with the director of the park and were reminded again that the parks and reserves around Lake Baikal have no trail crews except the volunteers of the Great Baikal Trail Association. There is almost no money in park budgets to care for trails, and little tradition of constructing and maintaining hiking routes even though a place like the Holy Nose is the centerpiece of this park and the destination of many summer visitors.

"We would like to know how to make the trails safer and more comfortable," the park director told us during the meeting in Ust'Barguzin. She went on to explain that she did not want the trails moved and did not want the Great Baikal Trail Association volunteer work crews to do much excavation.

Considering those restrictions, we asked her to share her vision of the ideal solution to the problems with the trails. "I am not a trail expert. You are," she told us. "That is why you are here."

All righty, then. We set off into the mist and low overcast yesterday morning, bouncing around in a van with riders seated backwards, sideways, and forward, the little remaining space jammed with our backpacks. The driver was fairly good at maneuvering around the deep ruts of the sandy road that led from town the ten miles along a spit of low land to the peninsula, though he occasionally hit an axle-deep trench squarely and we bounced against the ceiling of the van.

Hiking Lake Baikal

He dropped us off at a sign next to a trail and promised to be back in two days. The sign warned that the trail ahead was steep and we should be careful not to screw up since we were in an area of "wild tourism" and would be on our own if we got into trouble.

We hiked a quarter mile into the forest and stashed our packs in the woods. Another quarter mile and the trail suddenly went vertical on us. A weathered sign nailed to a tree featured only an exclamation point. A sign next to it warned "50% Grade." By comparison, the Pacific Crest Trail is build at a maximum grade of 15%. Fifty percent is wicked steep and would have been plenty to challenge us. When I measured the grade, though, I discovered it was closer to 60%. As the great Woody Woodpecker would say, "Ya-ha-ha-HA-ha!"

We climbed steadily through the misty day, accompanied by several dogs who volunteered to show us that having four feet on so steep a trail is a real advantage. We soon became fond of the dogs. There was the one that looked like a fox. There was the mangy dog. And there was the dog that looked like a Siberian husky—no surprise, considering the fact that we were in, yes, Siberia.

Past the halfway point on the Nose (mid-nostril, as it were) we broke above treeline and looked above at the long and snowy ridge disappearing into the grey sky. With the shelter of the forest gone, the cold wind hit us. We had just enough clothing to stay warm, but no margin for error.

We descended far enough to get out of the wind and enjoyed a lunch of sausage, cheese, bread, whole cucumbers, and halva, a compressed cake made of finely-ground sunflower seeds. The dogs waited patiently for their share of lunch, and we didn't disappoint them.

Climbing the Nose

Considering the lateness of the day and storminess of the sky, we decided to head down, talking about the trail as we descended. In places it was 40-50 feet wide where the shoes of hikers had beaten out the vegetation, and it was relentlessly steep from the bottom to the top. In America we would close and revegetate the trail and replace it with long switchbacks at a reasonable grade, but we don't have that option here. The park can put up a few more of those exclamation point signs, I guess, but without the option of moving the trail, I didn't see any other solution.

We retrieved our packs and walked to the lakeshore where we made camp, then cooked a pot of macaroni over an open fire and loaded up the pasta with the contents of several cans of Russian mystery meat. The dogs stayed close, knowing from the size of the pot that there could be leftovers. Again, they weren't disappointed.

This morning we hiked a beautiful trail three miles along the lakeshore to reach a second route that goes up the Nose. We had been told this was the easier way to reach the top, and we were all for that.

The day began sunny, the forest a gorgeous display of green firs and cedars mixed with the white trunks and golden leaves of birch trees in autumn. The dogs were eager to show the way. We turned inland and the trail gradually steepened until it became too steep. The weather changed on us, too, and we again turned back after lunch, the route ahead lost in fog and cold.

We're back at our camp now, waiting for the water to boil for this evening's pasta and tea. The clouds are rolling away and it looks as though we'll have a clear night with the possibilities of a spectacular star feast overhead. From their body language (curled up near the fire and sound asleep) it appears that the dogs are here to stay. Woody Woodpecker would approve.

BB

«« Back