Krasnoyarsk – Irkutsk
 |
| 581 miles approx |
Post WWII/Soviet era concrete industrialisation intertwined
with beautiful log cabin villages, set in the Sayany Mountains. The Yenisey
River Bridge at Krasnoyarsk won the gold medal at the 1900 Paris Expo, along
with the Eiffel Tower and marks the unofficial border between Western and
Eastern Siberia. No stop for us at Uyar. Good job, as its full name is
Uyarspasopreobrazhenskoye. I can’t be bothered to type that more than once.
I checked the map and was disappointed to realise that
during the night we passed through Tomsk. Fans of the Wombles will understand
that this was a serious missed photo op.
Dodgy meal of cheese cuppa pasta. Thought I’d get rid of the
worst food and leave the pleasant stuff for the rest of the journey so as to
avoid developing a temporary eating disorder. Mind you, a week of dried packet food is enough to tip anyone over the edge. I had suspected that I’d
over-packed by taking an additional bag full of food, but it transpires that I
would have been up the creek without an infant’s-cutlery-set-from-Asda had I
not heeded the advice of The Man in Seat 61 (www.seat61.com). As previously
reported, the restaurant car is not fit for humans, and probably due to the
time of year, temperature and short days, I have yet to see anything other than
a kiosk at any of the stops. I guess that the hawkers with fresh food and beer
and snacks and delights are more prevalent during the busier months. Fair
enough, I wouldn’t stand on a sub-zero platform in Siberia for hours, in the
hope of selling a smoked fish and a bottle of lager to a greasy western
tourist, for less than a pound.
SUB-NOTE: Ilansky. 10 min stop. Hawkers on the platform! I
announced to the carriage that I’d seen ‘a woman with pies! With PIIEES!’ Cue
out of proportion bustle from our carriage as we all throw coats on over our
lounging outfits; various combinations of jammy bottoms, t-shirts,
slipper-socks and other articles unsuitable for outdoor pursuits. I stocked up
on pelmeni (potato stuffed
dumplings), syrniki (cottage-cheese
fritter), tvorog bliny (sweet curd filled pancake), a couple of half litre bottles
of beer and all for less than £4. I assiduously avoided any meat filled
delights, and I also wimped out of the omul
(dried, salty fish). It looked slightly less appealing than eating a shoe.
Also, the conveniences aboard the Rossiya
do not lend themselves to any unexpected, violent interior activity.
We collectively agreed that this was the highlight of the day. Judging by our Wallace and Gromit grins, the involuntary giggling and the louder than necessary chatter, it would seem that by day four, life aboard the train had rendered us all slightly mental.
