9 minute read
Diving and adventure - Lake Baikal
Lake Baikal…
Text and photos Marcin Trzciński
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A foretaste of what awaited for me I already had at the beginning of the journey. As opposed to the rest of the world, the Russians don't design their planes paying any special attention to ergonomics, so the three-engine TU-154 Aeroflot didn't have enough space in the cabin to store my Peli box with the photo equipment. Finally, it was squeezed in the gap between the legs of the seats, occupying the space where I was supposed to accommodate my limbs. Great. Attempts to sit sideways ended up with me sitting cross-legged. Have you ever tried it on a plane?
Irkutsk. I don't know whether it was because of the weather or my tiredness, but the place didn't make the best impression on me. Severely potholed streets, blocks of flats built from concrete slabs mingled with wooden cottages and the impression of sadness emanating from the whole. Such a city built with a creativity of the political system, luckily, already gone. I ticked the registration
off in the office and I was ready for the great adventure. Before setting off we had to wait for the arrival of other participants of the expedition, whose planes were to come from different places of Europe within another several hours. In the end, when everybody was there, we headed in two large cross-country Isuzu vehicles towards a distant Olkhon Island. That's where our base was to be for the next three days before we would check-in on our ship. As soon as we left Irkutsk, the sun appeared. Was it thanks to the local deities for whom Tanya, the driver of our Trooper, left a few kopecks next to each passed "Shamaness"? Tanya had a whole stack of coins and whenever a characteristic, wooden pole decorated with colorful ribbons started to loom over the horizon, she opened the window a bit and dropped a few of them for the spirits inhabiting the area. When we stopped by one of the Shamaneses, my attention was caught by the movement in the nearby grass. Sousliks. Little furballs disappearing quickly in the entrances to
their tunnels, just to carefully look out after a while, sensing the danger. I started playing stalking. No, it was not easy. These animals were extra vigilant but the entertainment was terrific.
Three days at Olkhon went by in no time and again we were on our way. This time to Listvyanka, from where our safari was supposed to start. I don’t know how we had vexed the deities again, but it began to drizzle anew and when we reached our destination it was raining and blowing pretty hard outside. Nevertheless, we decided to do a test dive. This time just from the shore. I got read quickly and, as it had been agreed, without waiting for the rest of the team I dived for the first time in the Baikal waters. A large wave forced me to quickly descent to 12 meters, where the rocking finally ceased. Now I could look around calmly. The visibility was pretty good, and against the dark rock in front of me small fish were flashing. I headed north, observing the area. And looking for gammarids, here called 'gammaruses'. There are several kinds of them, but
near Listvyanka it is the easiest to find the supposedly most beautiful kind, golden. The problem was that I had never had the eye for the macro scale and without external help I could have passed within inches something interesting without ever noticing it. This time, however, it was not so bad and after a few minutes of searching I noticed my first gammarid in front of me. Bingo! Taking the photos I hardly noticed that the agreed 60 minutes of diving had already passed. It was time to go back, which turned out to be not so simple, as the increasing wave was furiously attacking the rocky shore. The wave was so fierce that two colleagues from Israel (both instructors, but blue water ones) entered the water only up to their knees, and then, surprised by the conditions, they resigned from the dive.
The first night on the ship. I had to get used to rocking somehow. It was so much easier that the wind had already calmed down, and the weather forecast for the next days was merciful. The clouds ebbed away, and the sky was populated by millions of stars. I was sitting on the board staring at countless constellations we cannot see in our country. It was very dark, so nothing disturbed the observation. For such a view it is worth suffering the inconveniences caused by the waves. On the other hand, however, from the shore it would probably look similarly and without that wretched rocking…
We barely finished dinner when again it was time to dive. After a morning dive with Tanya, who posed for me next to the beautiful green sponges, it was time to take macro photos. Solo diving again, but to my question about the diving time I got an interesting answer from her: "skolko vazduha budiet" (until you have air). I like to dive when no one disturbs or urges me and I don't feel like I'm hindering others by taking photos. So I took the camera and jumped into the water. I circled the first sponges, looking for gammarids (this time the brown ones), fish and snails. Doing bigger and bigger circles I hit something worth capturing in the frame. What a fun it was! At one point, bored with the statics of slowly rolling gammarids, I tried to capture the picture of them swimming. That was a challenge. They swim very fast and, I do not know why, always in the opposite direction, never towards me… Finally it was time to return to the surface. Emerging from under the water I couldn't see the hull of the ship but probably I drifted a bit and the visibility was far from being good. I disrupted the surface of water with my head and looked around. Hmmm… The visibility got already very good, but there was no trace of the ship. I mean, there were some two or three vessels on the shipping lane, as all the time there is something floating over Baikal waters. But none of them was my ‘Mir’. Yes… Using fins I went in
the direction of the not-too-distant shore. That was a plus, however, the problem was the dense forest covering the shore and the fact that it was probably a million kilometers to the nearest settlement. And when you wear a dry suit, it was like two million. There was nothing left to do but wait. I dropped the equipment and I sat on the stone in a graceful pose of the Copenhagen Mermaid, awaiting for help to come. I have to admit that I didn't wait long. When the rest of the team noticed that I did not show up for the meal (and I am ALWAYS the first at mealtimes) they immediately began the search on the ship. And as they did not find me (which was obvious, since I was not in the mess room), they decided to go back.
The next days passed in a set rhythm. We gradually came to an understanding in terms of diving with the Russians. They had their deep "hundreds", and we struggled with our cameras in a bit more shallow waters. Even the colleagues from Israel untwisted a bit, although dry suits were still not their world. They did the courses in Eilat, two weeks before the departure to Irkutsk. And we could tell that. But every day brought improvement and gave them satisfaction from overcoming the further barriers. Up to a point… I arranged with Igor, who was about to do another 120 meters to take the pictures from decompression phase, to wait for him at 50 meters depth, when suddenly I felt a jerk of a fin. I glanced over my shoulder just to see Doron heading towards the surface… with his diving regulator activated, he was going upside down! What was he doing at this depth anyway? Hmmm… Photos didn't matter anymore. We had a problem. I wasn’t as fast as him, but still I managed to reach the surface a few minutes after him. The boy was floating on the waves mumbling something vaguely. Or was he speaking Hebrew? Have you ever towed anybody 500 meters to the ship wearing full equipment in configuration for deep diving? The crew saw us from the ship, but the RIB was buried under the diving bags and other stuff (the cabins were too small to contain it) and before they dug it out and put onto the water, we were almost at the side of the ship. Finally, I could rest. Just for a few seconds
because another problem came up. There were cylinders with oxygen, but just to beat the stages. And the key for the cylinders was with Igor, who was getting through his decompression somewhere and probably looking for me… Well, but everything ended up happily, although in Israel (not in Russia) Doron had to land in the chamber. And then he was banned from diving for another half-year.
A return from Russia was like going back to the real world again. Civilization (or what we mean by this in Poland), lack of swarms of mosquitoes hiding in the beaten-up ports of the rusty ships. But also the lack of unusual calm of that place. The great silence of the taiga and extraordinary kindness of the encountered people. And cool dives, although conducted according to the rules unknown here…
