LAKE BAIKAL TO IRKUTSK.
The post-house of Pasoilské was all alive at an early hour on the
11th of October. Cart-loads of wood were piled on the fires. All
the samovars were in requisition at once, and the company waited
patiently, or impatiently, for their turn to come, for a Russian is
very useless until he has guzzled three or four tumblers of tea.
The "postilions," as they call the soldiers who travel with the
mail-bags, and other hangers-on, generally came off best. Their
instinct leads them to make friends with kitchen-maids, and the
kitchen being their centre of attraction, it goes hard if they don't
get their tea in good time.
The kitchen was the only place where one could get a wash, which is
a difficult operation to the unskilful. No basin is provided, but an
urchin, or a robust maiden, holds a pitcher of water, the contents
of which you receive by instalments in the hollow of your two hands,
and with good management you succeed in getting a few drops to your
face.
While we were all stretching our necks to catch a glimpse of the
steamer, every moment expected to heave in sight, an officer gave
us the valuable hint that our tarantass could not be embarked at
Pasoilské, there being no boat there capable of conveying it to the
steamer. This was unwelcome intelligence to receive at the eleventh
hour, but it was confirmed by the post-master who, however, had told
us a different story the night before.
The "shipping port" was nine versts further south, and thither we
had to transport our carriage. It was off the government post-road,
and private horses had to be hired at rather an exorbitant rate.
But there was no time to lose, and the Russian had us on the hip,
an advantage which none know better how to turn to account. The
road runs along a narrow sand-spit between the Baikal and the inner
lagoons. It is very heavy, and the water has broken in on it in
some places. The sand-spit runs out to a point forming a sheltered
harbour inside for vessels of light draught. The entrance round
the point has a shoal sand-bar, somewhat dangerous, running across
it. Several Russian barges, rigged very much like Japanese junks,
with one enormous mast placed near the centre of the vessel, and of
about 150 tons burthen, lay aground discharging their cargoes on
the shore. Several more were lying at anchor in the harbour. These
vessels are of the rudest construction, and the most primitive
model--very short, enormously high-sided, and of great beam. They
have preposterously large rudders like the Chinese and Japanese
junks. Their "lines" are so imperfect that no ordinary rudder would
steer them. They must be incapable of any nautical movement except
running before the wind. They carry large crews, chiefly Bouriats.
Their heavy main-sail and rudder necessitates plenty of hands, and
when in harbour (where they seem to spend most of their time) the
large crew is useful in loading and discharging cargo.
When we consider the kind of craft, and the quality of their crews,
by which the Baikal has been navigated, it is easy to account
for the terrible stories of the storms that frequently spread
destruction over the surface of the lake. That the lake, like other
lakes similarly shut in by high mountains, is subject to sudden and
violent storms, fraught with danger to crazy barks and unskilful
navigators, there can be no doubt; but we had occasion to observe
that a very gentle zephyr indeed is accounted a storm on the
Baikal. It is said that a peculiar phenomenon is sometimes observed
in the lake,--a wave, or succession of waves, bubbling up from the
bottom in the calmest weather as if moved by submarine influences.
But it is not likely that this, or other anomalous convulsions in
the waters of the Baikal are of frequent occurrence. But, although
such phenomena have no doubt fortified the popular superstitious
dread with which the lake is regarded, it is of the wind-storms that
the Russian sailors and travellers are so apprehensive.
There is only one house at the port, which belongs to the company
who own the steamers, as also many of the sailing craft that cross
the lake. In the house we met but one traveller, all the others
having stopped at Pasoilské to join the steamer there. There was a
large concourse of people, however, engaged in landing and shipping
cargo, and the scene was most animated. The sand-flat was covered
with merchandise, in bales done up in cow-hides, casks, and all
manner of packages--that from the west waiting to be carted away to
the post-road for China or the Amoor river,--and eastern produce,
principally Chinese, waiting shipment. The people moved about
with more business-like energy than we had yet observed amongst
Russians. The whole traffic with the Amoor crosses the Baikal here,
as does also that with the south-eastern provinces of Siberia, which
includes all Russian trade with China, excepting what finds its way
to Semipalatinsk, further west on the Khirgis steppe. Large caravans
of one-horse carts, laden with merchandise, are constantly met with
on the post-road. The heavy portion of the trade naturally goes
eastward, for all the clothing, all the luxuries, and much of what
may be considered the necessaries of life of the Siberian cities,
are supplied from Western Russia. Siberia has not much to send in
return, except furs, the precious metals, and Chinese produce.
While we were waiting for the arrival of the steamer, we were roused
by a wild kind of chant outside, and presently a procession of three
Russian priests, with long hair and long beards, came into the room
where we were sitting, and after doing reverence to the picture of
the saint, stuck up in a corner of the room, they besprinkled the
apartment with holy water, and retired. It was Sunday, and this
imposing ceremony served to remind the Russians of that circumstance.
An officer from the Amoor country showed us great civility here,
and made the time pass very pleasantly. He was worn with hard
travelling, having ridden a long distance through forests where no
proper road had yet been made. The usual way of travelling up the
Amoor is by steamer, as far as the navigation is practicable, which
is as high as the junction of the Shilka. But the steamers often
tow huge barges, laden with grain, which greatly retards their
progress, and besides, they are almost constantly breaking down. So
that, where time is important, the shortest way is to ride until the
regular post-road is struck.
This gentleman gave us some interesting information regarding the
new road now being constructed by the government from Irkutsk to
Kiachta, round the south end of Lake Baikal. The present route
across the lake is very inconvenient, and not always safe. In summer
and winter the communication by the lake is pretty regular; but
during the interregnum between the seasons it is very uncertain.
When ice is forming on the lake it is always doubtful whether the
steamer can cross with safety, and she is probably laid up for the
winter sooner than is really necessary, from fear of being nipped
by ice. Again, when the ice is melting, it would be hazardous to
leave on the surface the post-stations which are used in winter
traffic, for on such a large sheet of water, exposed to gales of
wind, the ice may break up suddenly when thaw has once set in. This
has actually happened: on one occasion a sudden break-up in the ice
submerged a post-station with all the men, horses, &c., belonging to
it. Thus the post establishments will generally be cleared off in
spring, some time before the navigation is open. The inconvenience
of depending on this one route for the transport of merchandise
and gold has long been felt by the government, but the nature of
the country on the southern shores of the Baikal presents almost
insuperable difficulties to road-making. The precipitous mountain
ranges in that region are at present impassable, except on foot or
horseback, and dangerous even then. Our informant once tried it in
winter, and had to abandon his horse to perish in the snow, saving
his own life with difficulty. The road now being made is scarped
out of the rock in the same way as the one I have described in the
gorge in the Selenga valley. It is only worked at in winter when the
peasants are frozen out of the mines and fields. One of the means
employed to split the rocks, is to make enormous bonfires of trees
when the temperature is very low (-30° to -40° Réaumur), the action
of heat on the stone causing huge masses to crack, and enabling the
workmen to dislodge it. This is necessarily a slow process. Several
years have already been spent on it, and a good many more will
elapse before the work is completed. When this road is finished it
will materially shorten the distance between Irkutsk and Kiachta.
At noon a white column of wood-smoke on the horizon announced the
approach of the steamer, and in a couple of hours she came-to off
the port, dropped a barge which she had towed across, and proceeded
to Pasoilské to embark mails and passengers. Her return was expected
at 4 o'clock, but she did not appear till 6. It was then getting
dark, and to our surprise it was unanimously pronounced too stormy
for us to embark that night. It was even hinted that the steamer
might run across to the other side of the lake where there was good
shelter, and return next day to take us across. It was vain for us
to remonstrate against this folly, though the wind was so light that
we really could hardly tell which way it was blowing--with a chorus
of bawling Russians all speaking at once. We had but to wait, and
it was some consolation to us to hear the steamer's cable rattling
through the hawse-pipe. She had dropped anchor in the offing, and,
unless the "gale" increased, would remain there till morning.
The rates of passage by steamer across the lake are eight roubles
first class, and five roubles deck passage, say twenty-four and
fifteen shillings respectively. Distance about seventy miles. No
table is kept on board. The freight on our tarantass was twenty
roubles. Freight on general cargo is thirty kopeks per pood,
equal to sixty shillings per ton. There seems to be no fixed rule
as to passengers' baggage, but the agent is always open to an
"arrangement." We were to pay the regular freight on ours, and the
agent, to save himself the trouble of weighing it, asked us how much
we had. I forget what the quantity was, but say it was ten poods.
"Oh, then we will call it fifteen," said the agent. Our indignation
was of course roused at this. We appealed to the Russian officer
before mentioned, who laid it on so smartly to the agent for first
asking us for the weight, and then assuming that we were necessarily
trying to cheat him, that the wretch got frightened, and took our
baggage free. This afforded the officer an opportunity, which the
higher classes in Russia never let slip, of commenting on the low
state of Russian morality, that is, of the merchant and moujik
class, as distinguished from _nous autres_.
In the early morning the hive was all animation again. The clumsiest
of boats were manned by crowds of Bouriats, with short paddles,
to tow out to the steamer two of those huge barges that were
lying in the harbour. The steamer was unable to approach nearer
the shore than half a mile, owing to the shoalness of the water.
The towing business pays the steamer well, and there are always
numbers of sailing craft waiting at both ends for their turn to
be towed across. Time is no object with them, and they miss many
opportunities of sailing over with a fair wind, while waiting for
the steamer to tow them. The trade is highly remunerative, as at
present conducted, but it would pay much better to keep a smart
steamer running regularly with mails and passengers, and a good tug
to do nothing but tow barges. Half the number of these would then do
as much work as the whole fleet does at present. A little healthy
competition would work great results, but the Russians are fonder of
combinations and monopolies than competition.
When the two barges had got their hawsers on board the steamer,
one of the boats embarked our tarantass and ourselves, with a few
other passengers who had turned up, and by eight o'clock we stood
on the deck of the _General Karsakof_, so named after the present
governor-general of Eastern Siberia. She is a rare specimen of naval
architecture, and might have been built any time the last hundred
years. Roughly put together, clumsy and unshapely, she would be a
curiosity in any other part of the world; and for dirt I am certain
she has not her match. The engines, which are of fifty horse-power,
are the only redeeming feature in the vessel. They were made by an
Englishman in Western Siberia. It is no doubt a great thing to have
floated a steamer at all on the Baikal lake, but while they were
about it the builders might have produced something more ship-shape.
The _General Karsakof_ and her sister ship are coining money for
their owners, however, and _they_ have no reason to be dissatisfied
with their property.
We made but slow progress with the two lumbering barges in tow.
There was a slight head wind at first, and our speed was about one
mile per hour. Latterly the barges made sail, and we got on better.
Our course lay obliquely across the lake, about W.S.W. towards
Listni-nijni at the head of the lower Angara. Had the weather been
less severe we should have been tempted to keep the deck, and enjoy
the sublime scenery with which we were surrounded. Both shores of
the lake are very mountainous, those on the south-eastern side being
highest, and covered with snow down to the water's edge. There was
very little snow on the western side, the snow showers up to that
time having been very slight and partial. The water of the lake,
away from land, is of a very deep blue, almost black. Its depths
have never been fathomed, probably from the want of proper tackle,
for I am not aware that any ocean-sounding apparatus has ever been
used on the Baikal. It has been said, I know not on what authority,
that "no bottom" has been found at three thousand fathoms; but much
that has been said of the Baikal is exaggerated, and I greatly doubt
whether such a depth has been satisfactorily established. I was
informed by a gentleman on the spot, personally acquainted with that
part of the country, that the deepest soundings yet obtained in the
lake were two hundred fathoms, and that beyond that depth nothing
was known. It is only in a few places where soundings have not been
taken.
The lake is over 300 miles in length, averaging about thirty in
breadth; it covers a surface of 11,000 square miles, and is 1300
feet above the sea level. It is fed by two considerable rivers, the
Little Angara on the north, and the Selenga on the east. It has only
one outlet, the Great Angara, on the west, which drains the waters
of the lake into the great river Yenisei, and that again into the
Frozen Ocean. It is estimated that the water so drained, out of
the lake does not amount to more than one-tenth of the quantity
poured into it. This estimate may be a little wide of the mark, but
there can be no doubt of the fact that the lake receives a large
surplus of water above what it gives out, which the quantity lost by
evaporation must be utterly inadequate to account for. The level of
the water fluctuates only a few feet between seasons.
Baikal is a Mongol name. In saintly Russia it is called the Holy
Sea, and among the peasant navigators it is considered high treason
to call it a lake.
So much for the much be-written Baikal. To return to the _General
Karsakof_. She is puffing and spluttering, with no apparent result
but the rapid diminution of the pile of firewood which cumbered
her deck. The passengers, mostly on deck, wrapped in huge furs,
sit patiently wherever sitting-room can be found, facing the keen
air with unruffled equanimity. Their noses look a little blue, but
what of that?--every other portion of their body is warmly covered.
The saloon, so called, is under deck, cold and cheerless. It was
occupied by a few Russian officers and ourselves, who, between
intervals of sleep, called for the samovar, and sipped tea _ad
libitum_, the only kind of entertainment the steamer seemed capable
of providing. All travellers in Russia carry their own tea and sugar.
I presume some one navigated the steamer, but I never could discover
who occupied this important post. She was steered mostly by
Bouriats, who take it very easy, sitting all the time on neat little
stools to that end provided.
We succeeded eventually in reaching the western shore. We were
eighteen hours crossing, the distance being seventy miles. A
good little harbour, with deep water, shelters the steamers at
Listni-nijni. A pier has been built for the vessel to go alongside,
and everything would be perfect were the easterly shelter a little
more complete.
The captain of the steamer now appears on the scene to superintend
the disembarkation. He is charged by government with the examination
of the padaroshnas of passengers, which gives the authorities a
check on any unauthorised persons going about the country.
It was 3 o'clock, and a bitterly cold morning, when we landed in
the government of Irkutsk, but, as the steamer had been expected,
there was no difficulty in getting horses at the station. A few
versts beyond the station we observed a great bonfire blazing on the
road-side, and certain wild-looking figures gliding about between
the fire and a small hut close by. On reaching the spot, we detected
a black and white bar suspended across the road, intimating that we
were under arrest for the time being. The unearthly figures that
reflected from their faces the fitful glare of the burning logs
resolved themselves into men, clad in the grey great-coat of the
Russian soldiers. Our luggage, it seemed, had to be examined here,
which involved the torture of turning out of our warm berths. The
officials were inexorable. Not knowing who was chief,--for as usual
they all spoke at once, and every one seemed more officious than
another,--we did not know whom to bribe; and, after turning out of
our tarantass, we were not at all in a humour to bribe anybody.
The officers of the customs, for such we assumed them to be, took
plenty of time to turn over our boxes before opening any of them,
but finding at last that the coveted coin was not forthcoming,
they opened one or two packages for form's sake, repacked them,
and performed the ceremony of putting a seal on them. We were then
furnished with a certificate, which we were instructed to produce
at Irkutsk, failing to do which it would be the worse for us. We
never did produce it, and never were asked for it. Indeed this
was the first and last time our baggage was looked at during the
whole journey through Siberia and Russia. The other passengers
by the steamer came up after us, and passed the barrier without
stopping. We should have done the same, no doubt, had we been better
acquainted with the language.
The country west of Baikal, like that east of Baikal, is a vast
forest, but not so mountainous. Between the lake and Irkutsk there
is a great deal of cleared ground, and a considerable population.
The Russian cottages are bare-looking, but neat and substantial.
Their cattle-yards are mere open wooden palings, unsheltered and
dreary-looking.
The road runs along the right bank of the Angara, the river that
runs out of Lake Baikal, and falls into the Yenisei, about 1200
miles below Irkutsk. The water of the Angara is perfectly clear.
From the Baikal to Irkutsk we pass through a very fine country,
whether regarded from a tourist or agricultural point of view. The
cleared portion is in an advanced state of cultivation, carefully
fenced, and very fertile. The people have more of the appearance of
men who mean to make a living out of the soil, than any we had seen
further east. The bold mountain scenery of the environs of the lake
has disappeared, giving place to richly-wooded undulating hills,
which are shown to great advantage by the intervals of villages
and ploughed land. The rapid river flowing between steep banks,
generally covered with trees or brushwood down to the water's edge,
works its way circuitously through the hills, and gives a finish to
as fine a bit of scenery as can anywhere be seen.
The road to Irkutsk is in capital order. Our horses were good, and
our yemschiks willing, and by 11 o'clock we had rattled over the
forty miles between the Baikal and Irkutsk. This distance is divided
into three stages. At the last station the post-master was a German,
of a Jewish cast of face, who seemed to be hired to tout for the
Amoor Hotel in Irkutsk, which is the most popular with strangers.
We had been specially warned against this establishment, and had the
address of another, Metzgyr by name, which our yemschik pretended to
know, and we started on our last stage with the understanding that
we were to be conveyed to Metzgyr Hotel.