words from the world

Going out from the Irkutsk station, a nice girl from the Est'capade travel agency welcomes me to give me the Listvianka bus ticket and the voucher of the guesthouse I'll sleep in the next 3 nights.
Here, You have to put the watch forward by 5h compared to Moscow. But to avoid time zone problems, every station and every ticket have the Moscow time. Thereby, for my next ticket which it's written departure at 15h45 on, I'll go to the station at 20h45, local time...
I put down my rucksack at the hotel reception where the agency is and leave to the town center to stretch my legs before taking the bus to the small village of Listvianska. Coming from Moscow, Irkutsk looks like a village, few cars, quiet streets and no skyscrapers. The walking is short but enough, and at 14h30, I take the public transport to go to the Baykal lake, 70 km away. I meet 2 australians who travel in the other way by transsiberian train.
As I disembark, a great surprise waits for me, I bump into the 4 dutch people I left a few hours before! Our story wasn't finished yet. We walk to a pub to celebrate that. Just a moment later, we see Hugh, the English boy, walking a few meters from here. He comes and completes the team. We enjoy this bonus the fate is giving us and we take good time together. We have the impression we shared something magical in this train and to be old friends. Dutch people go back to Irkutsk with the 18-o-clock bus and I head towards my guesthouse walking alongside the Baykal banks. My room has a clear view on the lake.



The next day, I leave my room and walk to the tiny village center of Listvianka, 15 minutes away. We're on Sunday and the Russians came in large numbers. A lot of wealthy Russians possess datchas, secondary houses in the countryside or near the lake. The Irkustk inhabitants leave the town for the weekend to invigorate next to the lake. Others simply come here to indulge in the local speciality, the omuls (endemic fish of the Baykal lake) sampling, shared with the family on the white-pebbled beaches of Listvianka. Some intrepid people swim in the 5°C water, at this time of the year.The legend says you can win 25 years in your life expectancy if you take a bath in the waters of this mythical lake.



The lake is revered by a lot of native people, and with good reasons! It contains 20% of the non-frozen freshwater reserves in the world. It reaches 1632m in its deepest part. In spite of a relative surface area for a huge lake, it holds more water than the 5 five american great lakes together. In the wintertime, the clear water is transformed into an iced road the cars goes on. The lake area is the habitat for several endemic species like the nerpa, the only freshwater seal in the world.




In the small harbour of Listvianka, some boats offer trips on the lake. From the deck, we see the pine tree forests and the green mounds of the bank. Looking at northwards, the lake stretches out of sight. The quiet, serene water contrasts with the lively, noisy beaches of the village. This mini-cruise gave me some ideas of hiking for tomorrow. I spend the evening in a pub with 3 English people (Hugh, John, Georgina) and 1 South-African (Dodge) and the conversation often centred on travel.
The next day morning, I visit the museum dedicated to the lake and its eco-system. The museum offers a few aquariums, one with strange crustaceans, one with omuls and one with the famous nerpas.



In the beginning of the afternoon, I head towards the end of the village, the road turns on the left and skirts an enclosure. A little bit further, a fence blocks the road, whoever wants to park the car beyond this line must pay the entrance fee. I walk down the path on the right which leads into the beach, I walk on to go far away from the village. Numerous paths start, intertwine and get lost in the forest. I get down to follow the nearest trail of the bank. The rough path meanders according to the natural obstacles' wishes. I pass some dangerous parts carved in the tumultuous coast. Sometimes, softer pace, I walk on in the forest before leading into green moors strewn with a lot of flowers. The undergrowth is also marvellous with beautiful tufts of pink lily of the valley.


One of the path ramifications goes down to a long white-pebbled beach. There isn't a living soul around me, the ideal place to stop and to take a nap, rocked by the wind which strokes the crystal-clear waters of the lake. These waters inspire me and it's from this beach I'm writing to you.





I walk back to Listvianka for my last night before taking the bus back to Irkutsk the next day morning. Waiting for the train, I spend the afternoon with John, a nice English man who will take the Vladivostok train tomorrow. He walks with me up to the station where I get on the Transmongolian train.