Week 113 - Ulaanbaatar, Ulan Ude, Olkhon Island (Mongolia, Russia)

After realising the Russian woman in our cabin wasn’t traveling with the man with verbal diarrhea, (it was the pillow over the head and pretending to be asleep that really gave it away), we managed to get a couple of hours of sleep before we arrived at the Mongolian border. The train pulled in and we sat at the station for nearly 4 hours.

Immigration was pretty straight forward and we had plenty of time to get out and stretch our legs on the platform. You could tell we were now on a train with Russian attendants, they were a little scary and intimidating and the man walked around in his pyjamas all the time grabbing us to tell us to get out the way and ordering us back to our beds. The border station was in the middle of nowhere and there wasn’t anywhere really to go. The most exciting thing to happen was the realisation that all the other train carriages had disappeared, as had our engine. We had been expecting to find black market money changers at the border and were disappointed to find there wasn’t anyone there to meet us, no money changers, no food carts, nothing.

Our lonesome carriage, abandoned at the Mongolian border.

Finally, we got a new engine and rolled over the border to Russia. The immigration procedures were pretty straight forward again but with more intense searches of the train. Along with an English and an Australian couple from the cabin next to ours, we headed straight to the loo as you can’t use those on the train when in stations, and we had another 3 hours before we’d be moving on. It turned into a big drama since you had to pay for the loo and no one had any roubles. There was absolutely noting or no one around again apart from the odd Russian van driving passed and a sweet shop across the road.

At last we were joined to another 3 carriages and we set off to Ulan Ude. It had been snowing and everywhere was white, the trees, the hills, the roads, the rooftops. We gazed out of the window, trying to keep distance from the smelly man in our cabin, as the train zigzagged over the Selenga River and skirting around Goose Lake.

We’d spent most of the daylight hours sitting at border stations and it wasn’t long until darkness fell and people started getting ready for bed. Luckily for us, we were getting off the train that night. We rolled in to Ulan Ude, grabbed our bags and escaped to the platform. With all the strong lights the snow sparkled like glitter and although it was bitterly cold it looked quite magical, until I slid down the stairs. Unhurt, we continued and before long were at our hostel.

Immediately we could tell something was odd about the place. Our room backed on to a dirty common room with plates piled up in the sink and on the table and TV blaring. Our room had windows on two walls and no curtains so half of Ulan Ude could watch you getting changed and the shower room was some bizarre communal set up with a toilet in the middle. It felt more like a halfway house with strange old Russian men hanging around and walking in to our room looking for lighters. We popped to the 24 hour shop downstairs to buy our first bottle of Russian vodka and locked our door.

The next day we decided to have a chilled day. We stayed in bed late, found a breakfast cake and an egg had been left on the table for us, then ventured out to the central square to see a giant statue of Lenin’s head. The statue is 7.7m high and weights 42 tonnes and is one of the only tourist sites of interest in the town. We were a bit unprepared for just how cold it was and after walking around in circles a few times trying to find a supermarket, we walked back to the hostel, buying sausages, cheeses and breads on the way, for dinner.

The giant Lenin head, Ulan Ude.

The next day we had to check out of our room at lunch but had 10 hours until our train was due to leave for Irkutsk. Not being able to bare the thought of sitting around the hostel we decided to don our thermals and head to the Ivolginsky Datsan, a Tibetan Buddhist monastery that is the centre of Siberian Buddhism. Although our hostel had given us the wrong information, a nice bus driver picked us up and took us to the bus station (an empty car park) for free and pointed us to the right bus. After changing to another bus in the village of Ivolga we arrived at the entry gate. The complex was a lot smaller than we’d imagined. Built in 1946, it’s pretty new and only took us about 20 minutes to complete a lap, spinning prayer wheels and entering a few of the buildings that were open. It felt like quite a journey for nothing too spectacular but considering how little there is to do in Ulan Ude it was a good way to while away a few hours.

One of the buildings at the Ivolginsky Datsan, near Ulan Ude.

Back in town we decided to walk along the pedestrianised street to the Virgin Hodegetria Cathedral. I’d hoped we’d pass some of the beautiful wooden buildings we’d seen elsewhere and from bus windows while I had the camera to hand but the buildings were modern. The wooden buildings have door and window frames carved so intricately that they appear to have lace cloth drapped over them. We found the cathedral, saw it was much smaller than we expected, peered in the door, took a photo of the golden bulbs mounting the white spires and continued to try and find the Trinity Church. It was -21C and every bit of exposed skin was hurting from the cold. We couldn’t find an easy route to the church and gave up to go back to the warmth of the hostel.

It was as weird as ever at the hostel and we didn’t want to sit there in the dirty kitchen feeling unwelcome for the next couple of hours. We discovered a ‘lounge’ in the same building where you paid for the time you were there, had free coffee and biscuits, good music playing and fast wifi and settled in, returning to collect our bags and eat our left over sausage and cheese before going back to the lounge to wait for the train.

We didn’t fall in love with Ulan Ude and other than giving us a chance to catch up on sleep there wasn’t a whole lot to do. The city is the capital of the Buryat Republic, a federal subject of Russia and it was interesting to be in a Russian city, with stereotypical Russian people with their full length fur coats, fur hats and boots alongside the Buryat people, a subgroup of the Mongols. The Buryat’s share a lot of customs with Mongolia (including nomadic herding and using gers for shelter) and speak a Mongol dialect. 

The Russian Federation is made up of 85 federal subjects, 22 of which are republics that mostly represent areas of non-Russian ethnicity. The Republics have their own constitutions and their own official languages. The parliamentary assemblies of the republics have even enacted laws which are at odds with the federal constitution although Putin has tried to reduce their autonomy and impose the supremacy of the federal constitution (got to love Wikipedia).

Finally, it was time to head to the station where our train was waiting on the platform. After a bundle at the door to get our tickets checked, we were allowed on and settled in to our carriage, for once being lucky enough to share it with a non-snoring lady. We settled in for a few too many drinks as the train rolled out of the station. Other than the heat (Russian train attendants seem intent on cooking you in your sleep), we slept ok, just not for long enough and before we knew it we were being woken to hand our sheets back in.

When we reached Irkutsk, it was still dark. We had directions to take a tram to the minibus park by the central market and headed across the river and in to the city. We still had a couple of hours before the bus was due to leave and found a small coffee shop, to hide from the cold until the sun rose, where wet omelette was on the menu.

Finally it was light enough for us to find the bus park and check we could get seats. Passing a glove stall we realised we weren’t prepared for the cold and ended up buying super thick gloves (which with the state of our tatty clothes are probably the nicest things we own) and making a short lap of the food market to waste time. The bus had free seats and we were directed to settle in with our luggage on the back row. We’d hoped to nap on route but being over the back wheels on a bumpy road didn’t give us much opportunity. The journey went smoothly, taking 5 hours including a very scenic albeit short ferry ride over to Olkhon Island with the only scare being when the driver ordered us out of the bus at a loo stop and then disappeared, with all our bags and passports still on board. Thankfully he returned 20 minutes later. 

Me at the ferry pier, heading to Olkhon Island.

By the time we reached the town of Khuzhir, a cluster of wooden buildings on the lakeshore, we were tired and ready to be in a warm room with a comfy bed. We’d reserved a place at Nikita’s, the most famous homestead on the island and in no time had our wish. We were taken to a separate building set away from the main compound, where there were about 10 rooms around a courtyard with their own canteen - the main buildings owned by Nikita seemed to be closed for maintenance.

Rather than explore that evening and bearing in mind we only had an hour or so left of sunlight, we relaxed in our room before dinner was due to be served. The food was far better than we’d expected, we had fish broth, fresh bread, dumplings, lots of beetroot and a plate of chicken and rice. Impressed, we went to bed with full stomachs, glad to be at an all inclusive homestay where we’d get to try some good Russian food.

Olkhon Island is the largest island on Lake Baikal. It’s about 70km long and 15km wide and is sparsely inhabited, only getting electricity in 2005. It’s a mixture of grassy steppes, woodland, sandy beaches and towering cliffs with views across the water to the rolling mountains on the mainland. For 3 months of the year, the lake is frozen up to a depth of 3 metres and you can drive to the island. As winter was only just beginning, we could see the ice starting to form but couldn’t drive across. Instead, we crossed by ferry and contented ourselves with peering at the icicles hanging from the cliffs and the small iceburgs floating in the lake.

Lake Baikal, known romantically as ‘the blue eye of Siberia’ is one of the world’s largest freshwater lakes and holds 20% of the planets fresh water. If every other source of freshwater were to dry up, the water held in the lake could still provide for the entire population of the world for 40 years. At it’s deepest, it reaches 1,637m and its about 400 miles long and between 20 and 40 miles wide. The lake is a UNESCO site and is ringed by nature reserves, but it is still threatened by factories flushing their rubbish in to feeder rivers and oil and gas pipelines nearby (there is fear that a pipeline might rupture as it’s an earthquake zone).

After a great sleep we had breakfast in our canteen before dressing in our thermals and heading out. As the hours of daylight are short there was no point setting an alarm to be up early. We had decided to walk south in the morning, return for lunch, then walk north in the afternoon. By the time we started walking it was gone 10am but the sun was still very low in the sky. Over the first cliff, we reached the Khuzhir pier and were stunned to see the ice covering the wooden structure. Inches thick and with thousands of delicate icicles it was beautiful. 

The coast by Nikitas, Khuzhir, Olkhon Island.

Rhys on the frozen Khuzhir pier, Olkhon Island.

We continued along the coast, following the frozen beach to the promontory to peer into the next bay, glad that the temperature was much kinder than it had been in Ulan Ude. It seems so bizarre to see the beach covered in inches of ice and you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s fresh water and in a month, the whole lake will be one sheet of ice. It was incredibly peaceful and we only saw a few other people as we walked. 

Ice ont he beach south of Khuzhir, Olkhon Island.

At the end of our exploration south, we came across a frozen pond, about the size of half a football pitch. Rhys tested it out and as the ice was ridiculously thick, I followed. It’s the first time either of us has walked on a completely frozen pond like that. 

Rhys braving the frozen pond, Olkhon Island.

2 1/2 hours later and we were back in our cabin and it was time for lunch, another Russian feast. We didn’t waste much time before we pulled our boots on again to wander north along the coast. Close to Nikita’s, was Shaman Rock, a rocky outcrop with a curving beach and spectacular views. We continued along Long Beach, as always, picking up a dog on route to accompany us. The scenary was breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful and was only disturbed by the odd snowball or us stamping through ice overhangs on the shore.

Shaman's Rock, Khuzhir, Olkhon Island.

By the time we arrived back in the village we’d been gone for another 2 1/2 hours. Before going back to our cabin we walked along the track that acts as the main road and found one of the only shops that had stayed open passed the high season. We bought a couple of litre cans of Tuborg (made for giants, Tim, you’d love them) and bought a treat for our dog.

Back at Nikita’s we tried to book a trip to the northern most point of the island for the following day, supposedly the best trip offering spectacular views, but it being off season and there not being many people around, when we were told the price for two people we balked and decided against it. Our dog found it’s way into the compound and followed us back to the cabin where it sat outside pining for us while the sunset turned the sky a bright fushia.

After dinner we stole outside with pieces of bread for the dog and then just as we were starting to get ready for bed there was a knock at our door. A couple at another homestead in the village had called Nikitas, keen to go on the trip north the following day. Excited, we agreed and paid for our seats.

We slept late the next day and rolled out of bed in time for a quick breakfast before the van arrived to collect us. We were delighted to see it was another UAZ-452 Russian van (although abit more road weary than our Mongolian one). We jumped in and claimed the best seats. The other couple were running late but finally we were on our way, bumping and rattling along the islands dirt tracks. There are no tarmac roads on the island and the further north you go, the worse the trails get. The van had no problems though and was sprinting up steep, ice covered inclines and swerving around trees onto the flattest paths, our driver was brilliant.

We stopped 5 or 6 times over the course of the day, first traveling up the east coast, before stopping at Cape Khoboy, the northern peninsula of the island and returning along the west coast passing through acres of forest and kilometre after kilometre of windswept steppes along the way. We drove past Long Beach, where we’d walked the previous day and stopped at Crocodile Rock (that did really look like a giant crocodile) and other rock formations before reaching Khoboy, the most sacred part of the island. The whole island is considered one of the five global poles of shamanic energy by the Buryat people and there are coins, lighters and even spark plugs scattered around the rocky peninsulas. 

Coastal view on the north coast road, Olkhon Island.

Out in the snow, me and the north coast route, Olkhon Island.

Rhys at Cape Khoboy, Olkhon Island.

After a picnic lunch in the van with delicious fish and our happy driver gesturing and pointing at things (it wasn’t soup, it was tea), we had a couple more stops before we began the drive back, along the islands spine and through the pine forest to Nikitas. As the sunset had turned the sky such a bright pink the night before, we asked to be let out at the top of the hill overlooking the village incase it was repeated. Sadly it wasn’t and by the time we made it back to our room we were cold through. 

Frozen beach and the last stop of our northern Olkhon tour.

The next day we were up and waiting for the minibus to take us back to Irkutsk. It arrived 30 minutes late and we were squashed in to rubbish seats. It took about 40 minutes to drive to the port where a ferry was just pulling in. Thinking we’d be across and back on the mainland in no time, we were surprised when our van didn’t move. 4 hours later and we were still sitting there. The ferry man had heard there was a storm coming in and didn’t want to sail. We were getting increasingly uncomfortable, cold and bored, and were disheartened when the 3 vans waiting made the joint decision to turn back to Khuzhir. Luckily, as the ferry wasn’t running, no new tourists could arrive and our room was empty and waiting for us. 

We’d missed lunch so we dropped our bags in our room and went straight to the shop, accompanied by our favourite island dog who was rewarded for her loyalty with biscuits. By the time we got back to our room, the sun had gone down. We had a few hours to waste with cups of tea and Russian vodka before dinner, then we headed to bed, hoping to make it back to Irkutsk the following day to catch our 4pm train.