But if the lake’s stats are impressive, the feat of engineering that created the railway line that runs above it is arguably more so. Take the train from Slyudyanka to the station of Baikal and you will no longer be on the Trans-Siberian proper, but on a dead-end 89km route called the Circum-Baikal. But it wasn’t always so. Built between 1896 and 1900, this once connected the whole of Russia’s rail network together. To achieve this, the engineers’ only option was to cut through the steep mountainsides that rise up from the water’s edge (it has 33 tunnels along the line), where rockslides were and still are a common problem. Add to that the tricky issue of winter – (when construction was still taking place) a time when temperatures regularly plummet to -20°C and special ice-breaking trains had to dear the tracks – and it’s no wonder that, since 1948, an alternative route was built to avoid the lake.
But l was very glad l hadn’t. On the day arrived, with the sun blazing overhead, it was hard to imagine the temperature could ever get that cold. After snaking our way along the precarious tracks – now a popular pleasure ride, I disembarked to take a short boat excursion on the glittering lake, visiting a local fish market to check out the omul – a Baikal delicacy.
After lunch I climbed the small mountain above the tracks to get a view of the train, which snaked for so long that l couldn’t see the end of it, then finished with a dip in the water. At 2°C it was a bracing experience, but one of the locals in the tiny village, who was selling old train track spikes at the bargain price of€5, promised it would add seven years to my life.
Living in exile – While my life had supposedly been extended by a visit to the area, the following day in Irkutsk it was brought home to me how a visit to the same tract of land years ago could also be a life sentence. Back in December 1825 a group of some 3,000 military men (known as the Decembrists) staged a revolt to overthrow the monarchy. To cut a long story short, it failed, and those who masterminded it were exiled to Siberia to endure a life of hard labour, stripped of their citizenship and declared dead. Their wives were free to remarry, although many left: their well-to- do lives, friends and even children to join their husbands.
It was a hard life for all, and the exiles often tried to make their rudimentary homes mimic those of their old lives as best they could. “The Siberian’s actually embraced them,” said our guide, Anna, as we visited one of the Decembrists’ homesteads. “They were welcomed and many stayed in Irkutsk after their sentences – some as long as 25 years – were carried out, becoming pillars of the community.” We found the same warmth and hospitality here now. About 30 minutes outside the city, a family offered to open their home to us and cook a feast to celebrate our arrival. That night we dined on vegetables and potatoes they’d grown in their back garden and supped on their very own brew of… vodka But the Trans-Siberian nearly didn’t come through the town at all, and in the centre a monument proudly depicts the man who sealed the deal.
“There were five plans for the railroad and only one featured Irkutsk,” said Anna “We don’t know what made them choose the route that they did, as it wasn’t the easiest option due to the terrain. I suppose it was probably due to bribery -but we are glad they came here. The railway was and still is so important for the city.” Further down the tracks, another key site is Novosibirsk, where we were met on the platform by folk dancers replete in floral dresses and knee-high socks offering to (literally) break salty bread with us. It’s a fascinating place to stop, with a lively local meat, fruit and anything-you- might-need market. But from a historical perspective, it’s the crossing of the Ob River that draws visitors. It’s here where you can see the remains of a section of the original bridge that used to span it.
Only wide enough fora single track, it was retired in the 1930s to make way for a larger one (to prevent delays) and is now a cherished relic of the railway’s past, covered in a smattering of lovelocks. I was thankful of the new delay-free crossing as we raced on through Siberia, watching the white birch trees increase in number as a rainbow lit up the city we’d just left behind.
When Russia finally took hold of what is now modern-day Siberia, they were faced with the issue of populating it in order to keep the land safe from invasion. As such, between lricutsk in the east and Moscow in the west, several ‘administrative centres’ line the route. Novosibirsk was one, but Yekaterinburg – ‘Capital of the Urals’ – is perhaps the most famous. The city is best known for being the site of the continental divide – where Europe meets Asia – but I was soon to discover that it has a far more macabre claim to fame.
