1st Class

Day 19: Irkutsk (RUS) – Dozorny (RUS). “I've just met our new neighbour!”, I exclaimed to Karen, with a concerned look on my face. It was 5am local time (midnight Moscow time) and we had just boarded train number 4 that, over the next couple of days, would take us south through the Sayan mountains, across the Russian border, into Mongolia and onto its capital: Ulaanbaator.

Wanting to experience as many different feelings and emotions as possible, we had decided to travel this leg of the train journey in the first class compartment. Previously, we had travelled, very comfortably, in 'kupe' or 2^nd class accommodation, deterred by the effect that the high cost the premium accommodation would have on our budget. But for this trip, for the sheer entertainment value alone, it was well worth it!

First class compartments are a similar size to those found in kupe (about 7ft x 7ft) but rather than having four bunks they have just the two, one above the other on the left hand side of the cabin. Fixtures and fittings are more elaborate with wood panelling and embroidered soft furnishings replacing the plastic and nylon of the kupe cabin. The extra space provided by the removal of bunks 3 and 4 enabled the addition of an arm chair, a small table, a wardrobe and a shower! Now a shower may not sound much, but when you've travelled for days at a time on these trains without the opportunity to have a proper wash, it's the one thing that you (and presumably your fellow passengers, if they have a good sense of smell) really miss.

But what they didn't tell me was that the shower cubicle is ingeniously shared between two first class compartments. So at five am when I decided to 'check out' the shower, I managed to walk straight through in to next doors cabin, only to find a rather disgruntled Chinaman standing there in just his underpants! To rub salt in to the wounds, I then managed to lock the door that allowed him access from his compartment to the shower cubicle, so that at 10am he was braying on the door to be let into 'his' shower.

“I'm glad to see you're making such a good impression with the locals!”, Karen said with a smile. I said nothing and kept my head down.

Cute

Day 18: Listvyanka (RUS) - Irkutsk (RUS). “Oh they're lovely”, “Prijatnyj”, “Oh so cute”... About a dozen gooey eyed women of various nationalities crammed around the tanks that were home to the Baikal Seals - fixated by these gorgeous animals. As I watched both the seals and the reactions that they invoked, I decided that when I finally do meet my maker, I'm going to ask if I can come back as a seal next time - because as a seal you really can't fail to be a hit with the ladies!

Apart from the seals that we had come to see, the Baikal Museum had a number of fascinating displays and exhibits describing the the unique ecosystem that has developed in this huge fresh water lake over the last 50 million years. The lake supports over 3,500 different forms of life of which 80%, the seals included, can't be found any where else on earth. Almost hunted to extinction, the seals are now a protected species, their numbers fortunately on the rise again with a present day population of around 60,000 animals.

“We need to find somewhere to stay for the night”, I said to Karen as we reluctantly said goodbye to these beautiful creatures. We had a very early train to catch the following day so we thought we'd check out the station rest-rooms or 'komnaty otdykha'. In a mixture of broken English, broken Russian and sign language we enquired the cost of a bed from the rather stern looking attendant “That will cost 110 roubles per hour and an extra 85 roubles if you want to use the shower”, she replied with a dead pan expression. Karen nodded her approval to me and so I counted the money onto the little table in front of the attendant. She handed us our towels and we retired for the night.

So that's another 'first'. Never before had Karen and I bought a room by the hour! Seedy? Well, maybe just a little!

Toseland?

Day 16: Irkutsk (RUS) – Listvyanka (RUS). “Never mind another country this looks like another planet!”, I said as we both gazed out on the incredible scene before us. Pulling our scarf's around our faces we set off in to the icy wind to walk the couple of miles into the centre of Listvyanka. Completely overwhelmed by our environment, for the most we walked in silence.

Having made enquiries the previous day, we had managed to secure transport to take us the 40 miles from Irkutsk to Listvyanka on the edge of Lake Baikal. Baikal is the oldest and one of the world largest lakes being 400 miles long, 40 miles wide and a mile deep. So vast is this inland freshwater sea that if all the rest of the worlds drinking water dried up tomorrow, Lake Baikal could supply the entire population of the planet for the next 40 years!

However, in the grips of midwinter, the 'Blue Eye of Siberia' was completely encased in ice 10ft deep for as far as the eye could see. On the far shores, beyond the ice sheet, I could just make out the summits of enormous mountains poking out from the cloud cover. The wind howled in from the north and my face burned as it was bombarded with crystals of ice broken off from the lake's freezing mantle. I had never seen anything like this. All I could think of was an old textbook on astronomy that I had as a child. In there was an artists impression of Europa, Jupiter's frozen moon. To me, this was Europa.

As we entered the village itself an old man called from the verandah of one of the wooden cottages by the lake shore, “Privet!, eta Nadia”. Nadia? We had met a Nadia – back in Irkutsk – whilst we were trying to work out how to get to Listvyanka. Nadia had told us of a kind family who would be happy to help us find accommodation. She must have called ahead and said we were coming. Within minutes we were invited into the ageing fisherman's traditional Russian house to meet his family. His wife Tanya made us hot drinks to combat the effect of the biting cold and insisted that we stay with them during our visit to the lake; very quickly we were making ourselves at home in their simple little cottage.

NB I would like to make an official apology to the Russian nation. Prior to the start of our adventure I had made a number of jibes about Russian food and its reliance on the potato. I would now like to formally quash that rumour. Tonight Karen and I had a very cheap but traditional meal of Omul; an indigenous fish to Lake Baikal and I can honestly say it is one of the best meals I have ever tasted. I hope the Russian people can find it in their hearts to forgive me.

Springtime

Day 15: Irkutsk (RUS). For me, there's something special about February. On the one-hand its my birthday month so it usually involves quantities of beer and cake! And on the other, February offers those tantalising glimpses of spring: The sun shines, the birds sing and just when you begin to believe warmer days are on the way - Winter returns to regain it's icy grip. So it was today.

The scene could have been any city in the Northern Hemisphere: Brilliant sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, old ladies discussing the unseasonal weather, children playing in the playground and students reading literature on park benches. But then if I told you that the slide on which the children played was carved from solid ice, the manuscript was that of Marx and the balmy temperatures registered a whopping -12C, then maybe you'd conclude we were in Siberian town of Irkutsk.

Dubbed 'The Paris of Siberia', Irkutsk is a quaint little town with traditional wooden architecture that must have been stunning when built 100 years ago. But sadly, the town doesn't appear to have weathered too well under the communist years and today it looks a little, well, tired. Deep into Russia, Irkutsk however does give you a feeling that East and West are finally united The people look different here. Not necessarily European, not necessarily Asian – just different. And despite its 'tired' appearance the Asian influence helps to brighten up those Soviet style concrete monstrosities that we had seen all over Russia by the addition of colourful banners, lanterns and dragons.

For Karen and me, the unseasonably warm temperatures were very much appreciated, because whilst -12C is not exactly tropical, it did enable us to spend pretty much all day outside sightseeing without suffering any of the effects that we had encountered back in Yekaterinburg (although I still found that I couldn't go for more than an hour at these temperatures without needing another wee!!)

Today's 'entertainment' came by way of the transportation system. Irkutsk has a excellent public transport system: trains, trams, trolleybuses & buses all play their part, but by far the most popular way to travel here is by using one of the hundreds of mini buses that patrol the city. If you can actually get on one, that is! If you've ever tried to hail a black cab after midnight to go 'South of the River' then you may just have an inkling of what's involved: We stood at one stop and watched 30 buses a minute go past. Most were full to bursting. Of those that had seats, many didn't stop. Many of those that did stop drove off before we had time to get in. Eventually, we finally managed to get on board. Only for it to drop us further away from our destination than when we started. Oh Joy!

Babushka

Day 14: Krasnoyarsk (RUS) – Irkutsk (RUS). “Checkmate!”, I exclaimed excitedly. Karen seemed less impressed than me at my chess victory. But it felt important to me. So far Karen had thrashed me at every game of Gin Rummy, Scrabble and also got the better of me at Fives and Threes (although we later discovered our domino set was missing three or four tiles and consequently I declared this result to be null and void!).

Prior to embarking on our trip, I did wonder whether I would find these long train journeys quite tedious, but the reality was very different: They were actually great fun. We would occupy our time playing games, reading, talking (loose term!) to our Russian travellers and watching the amazing, captivating scenery pass by our carriage window.

Every couple of hours of so the train would pull into a station to take on more supplies and clear the accumulated ice and snow from the bogies. This presented a good opportunity for Karen and me to stretch our legs and get a little fresh air. Our excursions however, clearly made Maryna nervous as she regarded us to be a bit 'out of control' and so we never ventured too far from the train.

These stop-overs were also the opportunity for the local 'babushkas' to peddle their wares on the platforms (and even on the train if they could get past Maryna!). No matter how rural the station or how cold the night, the variety of goods for sale never failed to impress. Bread, fruit, cigarettes, hats, jewellery & souvenirs. It was all there. “That looks appetising”, Karen joked as she gestured towards one old lady whose contribution to this mini-bazaar was a solitary fish that she waived in the air optimistically at any prospective buyer. We don't know how long she had it or where she got it from (we were 3,000 miles from the sea and all the locals lakes and rivers were frozen) but she was determined to sell it.

On this occasion Karen and I declined her kind offer.

Day 14: Total Mileage to Date: 5,723: Number of Time Zones Crossed: 9; Number of Countries Visited: 6; Number of Transport Modes Used: 10, Maximum Temperature Encountered: +8C, Minimum Temperature Encountered: -23C.

Siberia

Day 13: Omsk (RUS) – Krasnoyarsk (RUS). As the first light of day illuminated our compartment, I awoke from a deep and restful sleep. Clearing the ice and condensation from the inside of the carriage window I gazed out on the changing scene before me. No more were the dense forests we encountered on the western stages of our journey – the landscape had been replaced by a barren wilderness encased in a blanket of snow. For this was the inhospitable Baraba Steppe – coarse reeds and sedge concealed swamps, peat bogs and rare patches of firm ground.

The train progressed relentlessly, heading generally East-South-East and devouring two more time zones in the process.

As we crossed the border between the principalities of Sverdlovskaya and Tyumenskaya we reached another notable milestone in our epic journey. “Welcome to the world of Dr Zhivago”, I said to Karen. For we had now entered the vast tract of land know as 'Siberia'. Karen smiled but kept here eyes fixed on the stunning scenery that lay on the outside of our frozen carriage window.

“Zazdorovje, Prost, Salut, Cheers”, we all said in unison. It didn't seem to matter what language we spoke, somehow, miraculously we seemed to be communicating. Our Russian cabin-mates; Tania and Albert had invited us for a drink and so there we were, sat in the dining car of the Trans-Siberian Express, telling tales, exchanging photographs and drinking vodka. It felt very surreal; as Rihanna blared from the jukebox and we laughed at unfunny jokes - for a moment, it felt like we were back at home in the Waggon & Horses. Except for the fact that nobody spoke English... And we were travelling on a train at 50mph... And outside it resembled Santa's Grotto... And nobody mentioned murkins... Shame!.