September 28th, 2008 ~ Irkutsk ~ The Last Day in Siberia

GBT Seminar Lunch

It's our final evening in Siberia and I should be packing, but there will be plenty of time to sleep during the flights home. At least there will if I'm better at getting on the airplane than I did last night boarding the train.

The two-day seminar of the Great Baikal Trail Association continued through yesterday in Tankhoy. There were plenty of spirited presentations about trails and discussions on the subjects of pathways and ecotourism. GBT members see the development of a Lake Baikal trail system as a key to attracting visitors to the national parks and reserves, and they have much to say about how that might be accomplished.

Last evening evolved into a wonderful, relaxed time featuring singing of Russian songs. John Schubert and I had our penny whistles and were able to contribute duets of Irish folk tunes. Several of the GBT young people were good dancers, including one who was not shy about launching into Riverdance-style moves and a Russian Cossack dance with his arms crossed, his knees bent, and his feet kicking out in front of him.

Irkutsk Street

Anya gave me a pen with a tiny Russian doll on the eraser end and encouraged me to use it to write my next book. Vika gave us brochures full of photographs of the Baikalski National Nature Reserve. We had books to share with the Russians, too, and patches and pins.

About 1:30 in the morning a handful of us put our packs on our shoulders and walked through the darkness to the railroad station to catch the train back to Irkutsk. We remembered that we'd had just one minute to get off the train when it had stopped in this little town three nights earlier, and knew we would have to be just as quick getting on.

The train rumbled to a stop exactly on time. The door of the sleeper car opened and our group began to scramble aboard. Still on the platform, I stood behind John Griffith as he waited for the stairs to clear, and suddenly the train began to move. All I could see in front of me was John's gigantic backpack filling the train car stairwell and hanging out over the platform. I jogged alongside the train, got my hand on the handle next to the stairs, and shouted for John to get moving since my ability to keep up with the accelerating train would soon be sorely tested. He was good enough to shove his way on in. I managed to swing onto the bottom step and then I was aboard, too, thankful I'd watched all those Indiana Jones movies and so knew how to leap onto a moving train.

Honey Vendors

We arrived in Irkutsk at dawn and went our separate ways to pursue the options of packing, napping, and wandering about. I walked around town for hours, especially enjoying the Irkutsk market. Women at outdoor tables sold tomatoes, potatoes, and berries that I suspect they had grown or gathered themselves.

Inside a long, airy building were counters loaded with jars of honey, crates of dried fish, piles of sausage, and much else that makes up the diet of the Lake Baikal region. A dozen women standing behind buckets of yogurt urged passersby to take samples. The clerk at a bakery stand sold me a flaky pastry filled with thick, sweet cream.

Tonight we gathered at the home of Natashia's parents for a farewell dinner. A number of the GBT members were at the dinner to celebrate with us. The table was filled with grilled chicken breasts, small slices of ham, boiled potatoes, and salad. We relived the highlights of the last three weeks, and the home filled with warmth and laughter.

Tomato Seller

As the evening came to a close we lifted glasses of vodka and made traditional toasts to the moment and to friendship. Natashia's brother offered a final toast. "This is a time when there is trouble and war in the world," he said, "but we are together here, united by trails." We tapped our glasses against those of our friends and realized it was one of many remarkable moments we will carry with us as we set off in a few hours for the other side of the world.

Bob

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