The thin sash of azure blue expanded gradually as I strode towards the marble-strewn shore under the shade of towering larch and pine trees. In a moment, I was facing the icy waters of Siberia’s Baikal lake, stretching ahead as far as the eye can see. As freshwater lakes go, it has much to boast about: it is the world’s deepest, largest (by volume) and oldest. From reading about it in a Std VI geography book, decades ago in a school in remote Tamil Nadu, to being slapped by the breeze on its shores, I have come a long way, literally and figuratively. As I stood gazing at its billowing waters, a ticklish urge rose in me.
Earlier that day, a sunny morning, I had set out on a 25-km hiking trail around Baikal. Termed the Great Baikal Trail, the route would lead me from the Siberian town of Listvyanka on Baikal’s shores to the mining village of Bolshie Koty, reached only on foot or a hydrofoil. This section, located within the Pribaikalsky National Park, passed through dense vegetation watched over by impossibly tall larch, birch, poplar and alder trees, slowly changing colours as fall approached.
Much like Lake Baikal, whose delicate ecology is often threatened by pollution and tourism, the forests surrounding the lake as part of the Pribaikalsky National Park also host numerous species of plants, animals and birds — many of them endangered. The National Park was established in 1986 and covers over a million acres of protected forest area.
A decade ago, Great Baikal Trail (GBT), a non-profit organisation, was formed by environmental enthusiasts and locals to ‘promote local sustainable development, social equality and low-impact eco-tourism’ in the region. As part of its work, GBT has cleared, with the help of international volunteers, narrow walking trails in the National Park area that snake alongside the lake. When I read about the trail, as part of my research for the ride on the Trans-Siberian express, I knew Baikal would be one of the highlights of my trip.
At the town of Listvyanka, where I started the hike, there was a strange makeover underway, it seemed. Slope-roofed wooden houses are being built, some replacing the flat grey concrete structures from the Soviet era. Even as oil prices turn increasingly volatile and Russia’s economy struggles to cope with the after-effects, tourism is starting to boom. It became apparent that town-folk are taking note of the cash flow trickling in, aided by tourism, and building guesthouses and hotels.
I had spent the previous evening walking the fish markets of Listvyanka, where women sold dried omul fish, a Siberian delicacy, and eating Uzbek pilaf cooked over an open fire.
I noticed the unmistakable presence of Chinese tourists. They are arriving by the busloads all over Russia, and Baikal is no exception.
At the hotel I stayed in, the wooden ceiling of my room pounded all night as unruly children played a game of midnight fetch on the floor above. Early the next day, a Chinese man, who appeared to be in his thirties, belted out an opera number in high pitch outside my room, in merry anticipation of his sightseeing trip later in the day. I tapped my window to attract his attention and deplored him with my eyes. He looked at me, disgusted, as if I were an unwelcome guest at his doorstep and walked away. Later in Beijing, as I continued my trip, I would read about the Chinese government imposing fines and placing Chinese tourists misbehaving abroad on no-fly lists.
I walked to the sound of pesky barking dogs on quiet streets lined by cherry trees, peeping their heads out of courtyard fences. Soon, the village receded behind me as I walked further into the forest.
A Russian couple, armed with a wooden pole to aid mushroom picking, walked ahead. ‘I no understand you,’ the man said when I attempted conversation. Mushroom picking is Russia’s passionate pastime and I noticed the abundance of the fungi on the trail. Mushrooms in musty yellow and pearly white lined the path, hugging the roots of trees.
A midsummer silence hung heavily over the forest, intermittently broken by the gushing of streams and the occasional roar of a plane flying overhead. I looked up to see patches of bright blue sky visible between canopy gaps like a tattered carpet.
In front of me, the path unfurled like a beige ribbon. Bursts of Siberian daisies, shiny orange globeflowers and dwarf lilies populated the path.
Baikal’s delicate ecology has been threatened recently in the form of a raging wildfire that scorched large swathes of forests in the surrounding area. Also, plans for a radioactive-waste processing facility in the village of Shiryayeva, near Baikal, has triggered concerns about endangering the lake’s environment, and paved way for a petition on Change.org asking Russian president Putin to reconsider the decision.
The trail would have eventually led me to the mining town of Bolshie Koty, with a population less than 100. The gold mining industry in the village of Bolshie Koty was active from 1848 to 1968 and produced about 160 kg of the metal during this time. However, with no prior arrangements for accommodation in Bolshie Koty and unsure of arriving before the last hydrofoil left for Listvyanka,
I realised it would be ambitious to do a round trip on foot.
After walking four hours in the Siberian wilderness with sparse company, I heard the murmuring waves of Baikal. There were more hikers now, a young Russian couple with their enthusiastic five-year-old stomping ahead; a Dutch couple who would stay the night in Bolshie Koty; a group of three middle-aged Russians breaking for lunch.
A sun-bleached wooden bench stood by the shore, empty, beckoning. I would break my hike here. And now was the time to fulfil my urge.
I waited until the last of the hikers disappeared slowly in their tracks, swallowed by the dense foliage of gnarly ferns, bushes studded with burgundy berries and trunks of tall birches. It was a sunny day but there was a nip in the air and Baikal’s waters remain cold throughout the year (with a maximum of 15°C in summer). I disrobed and, framing words in my head to caption my Instagram picture (that I now hold bragging rights for skinny dipping in Baikal), I stepped gingerly on the riverbed scattered with smooth marbles and walked into Baikal’s clear waters, which splashed gently around my ankles.
Travel log
Getting there
To get to Listvyanka, the town on the shores of Baikal from where the hiking trail begins, there are frequent buses from the nearest city of Irkutsk. The one-hour bus ride will cost you around 200 Russian roubles (₹200). It is also possible to take a hydrofoil from Irkutsk to Listvyanka. Prior booking is advised.
Tip
Try dried omul fish, a Siberian speciality, found only in Lake Baikal. Restaurants around Listvyanka serve omul in different forms; smoked omul is special. Once found in abundance in Baikal, omul has been declared an endangered species in 2004 owing to commercial overfishing.
Prathap Nair is a Bengaluru-based freelance writer