Differences

This shows you the differences between two versions of the page.

--- stories:nelsons_lake_baikal_2003 [2025/01/30 18:52]
preavley
+++ stories:nelsons_lake_baikal_2003 [2026/01/08 14:46] (current)
pstureavley
@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
 ====== Lake Baikal Circumnavigation 2003 ======
-Read our feature story in the June 2004 issue of Sea Kayaker Magazine! <del>www.seakayakermag.com</del> (no longer available online unless via the [[http://www.chargelife.com/Around Baikal 2003 Updates.htm|Wayback Machine]])
+Read our (Brandon and Heather Nelson) feature story in the June 2004 issue of Sea Kayaker Magazine! <del>www.seakayakermag.com</del> (no longer available online unless via the [[https://web.archive.org/web/20060113214619/http://www.chargelife.com/Around Baikal 2003 Updates.htm|Wayback Machine]]) see also - [[:adventure:baikal_photos|More Baikal Trip Photos]]
+<WRAP centeralign>
+{{:adventure:baikal:omul_nets.jpeg?direct&288x192|omul_nets.jpeg}}
+<font inherit/inherit;;#ffffff;;inherit>……..</font>
+<font inherit/inherit;;#ffffff;;inherit>….</font>
+{{:adventure:baikal:baikal_21.jpeg?direct&432x648|baikal_21.jpeg}}
+<font inherit/inherit;;#ffffff;;inherit>….</font>
+<font inherit/inherit;;#ffffff;;inherit>….</font>
+{{:adventure:baikal:olkhon_sunrise.jpeg?nolink&288x192|olkhon_sunrise.jpeg}}
+photos: Brandon & Heather Nelson [[https://web.archive.org/web/20080821115324/http://www.chargelife.com/baikal_photos,_pg_1.htm|Baikal Trip Photos]] (four pages of photos saved on the Internet Wayback Machine including many photos not shown in this article - you can also see most of them on our [[:adventure:baikal_photos|Baikal trip gallery page]])
+</WRAP>
 ----
@@ Line 13: / Line 33: @@
 ----
-==== Sunday May 04, 2003-Brandon ====
+{{  :adventure:baikal:cl1a.jpg?direct&312x208  |cl1a.jpg}}
+----
+==== Sunday May 04, 2003 - Brandon ====
 Let's get back to some adventure, shall we?
@@ Line 31: / Line 55: @@
 Our local team-member there, Hank Birnbaum, will host us in his village of Bolshoye Goloustnoye, where we'll assemble the boats, learn a bit about how to behave in Russia, and absorb his family's grace and hospitality. And on June 1 we set out. For the next three months, we'll make our way clockwise around the lake, exploring its every inch of coastline, its wildlife and mountainous shores, its fury and infectious magic, one stroke at a time. If all goes well, by the end of August we'll return to Hank's village from the opposite end, and we'll celebrate!
-Over the next couple months as we continue preparing we'll fill you in on more of what we know about Baikal. Of course, we're hard at work arranging a way to transmit updates -- and pictures -- from the heart of Siberia. We want to share this expedition more than any other!
+Over the next couple months as we continue preparing we'll fill you in on more of what we know about Baikal. Of course, we're hard at work arranging a way to transmit updates – and pictures – from the heart of Siberia. We want to share this expedition more than any other!
-In the meantime, check out our brand new website at www.chargelife.com!
+In the meantime, check out our brand new website at <del>[[http://www.chargelife.com!|www.chargelife.com!]]</del>
 For now, I’ll leave you with these last two points…
@@ Line 45: / Line 69: @@
 ----
-==== Sunday May 04, 2003-Brandon ====
+==== Sunday May 04, 2003 - Brandon ====
 It’s easy, when we’re spending all our free time researching and pouring over maps and pictures of Lake Baikal, to overlook the world-class lake in our own backyard. So this past weekend, in need of a few days of training and solitude—-as well as a shakedown of our Baikal readiness—-Heather and I set out to circumnavigate our local freshwater gem: Lake Tahoe!
-Measuring 72 miles around, Tahoe is a fraction of the size of Baikal. But it sits at about 6200 feet elevation and is surrounded by the steep--and still snow-covered--Sierra Nevada mountains. This makes it a sure bet for some of the rocky coast and blown-up conditions we’ll see on Baikal… and we weren’t let down.
+Measuring 72 miles around, Tahoe is a fraction of the size of Baikal. But it sits at about 6200 feet elevation and is surrounded by the steep–and still snow-covered–Sierra Nevada mountains. This makes it a sure bet for some of the rocky coast and blown-up conditions we’ll see on Baikal… and we weren’t let down.
 Day 1 kept us on the lake for only an hour or so—the time it takes to paddle from our friends Bill and Laney Green’s house in Tahoe Keys to Emerald Bay. We had the place to ourselves, and spent the afternoon hiking around the campground where Heather spent months with her family during her childhood summers.
@@ Line 77: / Line 101: @@
 Baikal Fun Fact: Lake Tahoe's volume measures 156 cubic kilometers. Lake Baikal's volume measures 23,000 cubic kilometers.
-Check this out: The easiest way to support 'Around Baikal 2003' is to ORDER YOUR OFFICIAL 'AROUND BAIKAL 2003' T-SHIRT TODAY! Just drop us an e-mail for instructions, or visit our website: www.chargelife.com!
+Check this out: The easiest way to support 'Around Baikal 2003' is to ORDER YOUR OFFICIAL 'AROUND BAIKAL 2003' T-SHIRT TODAY! Just drop us an e-mail for instructions, or visit our website: <del>[[http://www.chargelife.com!|www.chargelife.com!]]</del>
 HUGE Thanks, Brandon and Heather
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+----
-==== Sunday May 04, 2003-Heather ====
+==== Sunday May 04, 2003 - Heather ====
 In October of 2002 81 teams from 23 countries began the Eco Challenge Fiji. Only 10 teams completed the grueling course. Team Subaru USA, consisting of Dan Rathbun, Roy Malone, Dan Barger and myself finished 9th in just under 10 days. USA Network will be airing a mini series on the trials and triumphs, and the heartache as 4-person co-ed teams jungle trek, sea kayak, whitewater kayak, swim, mountain bike, build native “bili bili” rafts out of bamboo, ascend and rappel on fixed ropes, navigate, and give until they have nothing left attempting to complete the World’s Toughest Expedition Race.
@@ Line 99: / Line 123: @@
 The most common fish in Lake Baikal is the golomyanka. It is a pink, translucent oil fish with large pectoral fins. The golomyanka has no scales and is viviparous, meaning it gives birth to live young; about 2,000 at a time!
-Check this out: The easiest way to support 'Around Baikal 2003' is to ORDER YOUR OFFICIAL 'AROUND BAIKAL 2003' T-SHIRT TODAY! We are also accepting donations. Just drop us an e-mail for instructions, or visit our website: www.chargelife.com!
+Check this out: The easiest way to support 'Around Baikal 2003' is to ORDER YOUR OFFICIAL 'AROUND BAIKAL 2003' T-SHIRT TODAY! We are also accepting donations. Just drop us an e-mail for instructions, or visit our website: <del>[[http://www.chargelife.com!|www.chargelife.com!]]</del>
 Thank you all for your overwhelming support.
-Heather Nelson heather@chargelife.com
+Heather Nelson
 ~All Glory Comes From Daring to Begin~
@@ Line 109: / Line 133: @@
 ----
-==== Sunday May 04, 2003 ====
+==== Sunday May 04, 2003 - Heather ====
-S.O.S
-We are in search of an affordable small-sized or mini laptop to complete our satellite communication set-up. Requirements are CD ROM drive, serial port, and windows 95 or later. If you know of any used ones out there, please let us know! We leave in 13 days, so we need this by the end of the week! Yikes!
-Baikal Fun Fact: When our flight lands in Moscow, we will be closer to Maine than to our final destination of Lake Baikal. (From Moscow will be spend 88-hours on the Trans Siberian Railway).
-~In the Spirit of Adventure~
-Heather and Brandon
-----
-==== Sunday May 04, 2003-Heather ====
 S.O.S
@@ Line 137: / Line 147: @@
 ----
-Monday May 12, 2003-Brandon
+==== Monday May 12, 2003 - Brandon ====
 I once heard of a street performer who could juggle a running chainsaw, a marble, and a tic-tac. If you run into this guy, please put him in touch with us. We could use his skills these next few weeks!
@@ Line 143: / Line 153: @@
 We're both through with work; we got 90% of our non-expedition belongings tucked away in a storage unit today; Heather sold her car and our bed (our biggest piece of furniture) this afternoon; we scored the perfect laptop to complete our sat. com. rig (THANKS to EVERYONE who rallied!); and the kayaks are in the kitchen for some late-night outfitting. My heart's been skipping beats like crazy every time I remember: We're going to RUSSIA on Friday!!!
-And Friday is when the juggling act really begins. At the advice of my buddy, Scott, we're bringing our 17-foot-long sea kayaks, along with the other 120 pounds of gear, to the airport where we'll demand they be checked as regular luggage. (Scott: "Dude, I've checked two Chevy Avalanches to Tibet! I just checked a Honda Element! I've checked 13 whitewater kayaks on my ticket alone...granted, I paid four thousand dollars in excess baggage fees...You just can't take 'NO' for an answer!") So that's what we're doing. ("And don't waste your time trying to call ahead," warned Scott. "It allllll comes down to the person you check in with!") ......um
+And Friday is when the juggling act really begins. At the advice of my buddy, Scott, we're bringing our 17-foot-long sea kayaks, along with the other 120 pounds of gear, to the airport where we'll demand they be checked as regular luggage. (Scott: "Dude, I've checked two Chevy Avalanches to Tibet! I just checked a Honda Element! I've checked 13 whitewater kayaks on my ticket alone…granted, I paid four thousand dollars in excess baggage fees…You just can't take 'NO' for an answer!") So that's what we're doing. ("And don't waste your time trying to call ahead," warned Scott. "It allllll comes down to the person you check in with!") ……um
-Assuming that goes well, the next hurdle is to clear customs in Moscow. It happens that the particular "system" we'll use to stay connected from the wilderness coast of the biggest lake in the world...isn't actually "licensed" for use in Russia. Details...details...
+Assuming that goes well, the next hurdle is to clear customs in Moscow. It happens that the particular "system" we'll use to stay connected from the wilderness coast of the biggest lake in the world…isn't actually "licensed" for use in Russia. Details…details…
-Next, our man Sergey will be in charge of getting us and our gear out of the airport and to a bed for the night, just blocks from Red Square we're told, then back the next day to the Trans-Siberian Rail station. There is the slight issue that "cargo" (read: kayaks) can't be checked on Sundays--our day--so will remain with Sergey until Monday when he puts them on the slow train to Irkutsk, near Baikal. Nevermind that we've not actually met Sergey. (Keep your eye on the tic-tac, saw, marble, tic-tac...)
+Next, our man Sergey will be in charge of getting us and our gear out of the airport and to a bed for the night, just blocks from Red Square we're told, then back the next day to the Trans-Siberian Rail station. There is the slight issue that "cargo" (read: kayaks) can't be checked on Sundays–our day–so will remain with Sergey until Monday when he puts them on the slow train to Irkutsk, near Baikal. Nevermind that we've not actually met Sergey. (Keep your eye on the tic-tac, saw, marble, tic-tac…)
-Roughly 90 hours later when we arrive in Irkutsk, we'll be met by our man Hank! Hank we have met, (shared Thai food and ice cream last spring in California), and have worked with for over a year putting 'Around Baikal' together. Which is grand, since Hank will fearlessly lead us through another pre-paddling crux. See, the longest visas we could get are for one month. Our return flight is on September 5. (Saw, marble, tic-tac, saw...)
+Roughly 90 hours later when we arrive in Irkutsk, we'll be met by our man Hank! Hank we have met, (shared Thai food and ice cream last spring in California), and have worked with for over a year putting 'Around Baikal' together. Which is grand, since Hank will fearlessly lead us through another pre-paddling crux. See, the longest visas we could get are for one month. Our return flight is on September 5. (Saw, marble, tic-tac, saw…)
 After a few extra days in the city we'll travel with Hank to his lakeside town of Bolshoye Goloustnoye, our starting point of the actual expedition. I've said this a hundred times in the past few weeks: If we make it to BG with our boats and gear, and on June 1 slip them into the sacred waters of Baikal and take the first few strokes north, I will consider 'Around Baikal 2003' a success. Anything beyond that is pure gravy.
-Five days out... Heather and Brandon
+Five days out… Heather and Brandon
-www.chargelife.com
+<del>www.chargelife.com</del>
 ----
@@ Line 215: / Line 225: @@
 Our quarters for the trek would be a four-bunk “kupe” or cabin we’d share with two other wander-lusting souls, Gregory and Pazha. (Actually, they were military boys with a week off, and so were racing home to their wives in middle-Siberia. Hand-signs, pictures and patience got that story across).
-It was awkward at best, though, playing musical beds as Heather’s and my internal clocks were 12 hours opposite theirs. Our lower berths were their seats by day, so after the first night we cut a deal with the conductor to rent his personal space for the duration: a 5’x6’, two-bunk suite with a locking door and end-of-the-car privacy. (It took about $13 to close the deal--a bargain by any measure!). With the move complete, we got down to some serious shut-eye. Nothing promotes hardcore sleep like the endless metronome clack-clack…hummmmmmm…clack-clack of a train at speed. We each pulled a couple 18-hour “naps” in between devouring three different novels and most of the Lonely Planet Trans-Siberian guidebook.
+It was awkward at best, though, playing musical beds as Heather’s and my internal clocks were 12 hours opposite theirs. Our lower berths were their seats by day, so after the first night we cut a deal with the conductor to rent his personal space for the duration: a 5’x6’, two-bunk suite with a locking door and end-of-the-car privacy. (It took about $13 to close the deal–a bargain by any measure!). With the move complete, we got down to some serious shut-eye. Nothing promotes hardcore sleep like the endless metronome clack-clack…hummmmmmm…clack-clack of a train at speed. We each pulled a couple 18-hour “naps” in between devouring three different novels and most of the Lonely Planet Trans-Siberian guidebook.
-Every six hours or so, the train would reach a station where for 20 minutes we could step outside and from “babushkas” (grandmothers) buy our next round of sustenance. Breads of all kinds are the staple, and cost on average about 25 cents a loaf. Near the journey’s end we discovered pirozhkis--vegetable-filled, fried bread rolls so tasty you could eat them by the dozen. They’re the size of a hamburger bun, are served hot, and sell for about 10 cents.
+Every six hours or so, the train would reach a station where for 20 minutes we could step outside and from “babushkas” (grandmothers) buy our next round of sustenance. Breads of all kinds are the staple, and cost on average about 25 cents a loaf. Near the journey’s end we discovered pirozhkis–vegetable-filled, fried bread rolls so tasty you could eat them by the dozen. They’re the size of a hamburger bun, are served hot, and sell for about 10 cents.
 Towns and villages along the Trans-Siberian are humble, not clean by our standards, but are inundated with gardens. Every yard is tilled and ready for planting, and greenhouses are seen everywhere, too. Ornamental woodwork is common on many houses, usually in the form of fancy door and window trim, and eaves. In between the towns are endless forests of birch. You can watch the birch trees whiz by for an hour straight, go to sleep for 12 hours, look outside, and it’s like you never closed your eyes. Truly a frontier.
@@ Line 231: / Line 241: @@
 ==== Saturday May 24, 2003-Heather ====
-“We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like a marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. I feel better now, having said this, although only those who have experienced it will understand it.” --John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley
+“We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like a marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. I feel better now, having said this, although only those who have experienced it will understand it.” –John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley
 The Expedition life often is akin to a hurricane…spinning and spinning…sucking in facts, information, moving forward at lightning speed, and during brief moments when the dust settles can we assess the information.
@@ Line 267: / Line 277: @@
 With all but one of our city chores behind us, we loaded our gear into a van and plunged into the Taiga - the Siberian Forest. For 2.5 hours we bounced along a winding gravel road. Crossing still ice bound creeks and several small settlements, and, at long last the valley before us opened to a view of Lake Baikal.
-As legend promised, it stole our breaths away. Staring out at it now, I'm at a loss to describe it. An ocean, I would wager; by it's rhythm, it's wind, it's swells, and stormy skies -- hardly a lake.
+As legend promised, it stole our breaths away. Staring out at it now, I'm at a loss to describe it. An ocean, I would wager; by it's rhythm, it's wind, it's swells, and stormy skies – hardly a lake.
 For every wave of excitement and nervousness that Baikal inspires, our host village Bolshoye Goloustnoye reciprocates with a simplicity and kindness of the rarest order.
@@ Line 285: / Line 295: @@
 We are ready to start seeing it from the seats of our kayaks.
-One piece of unfinished business remains -- our visas. Hank has been in Irkutsk all week working to extend them from one month to four. With that resolved, we will start paddling.
+One piece of unfinished business remains – our visas. Hank has been in Irkutsk all week working to extend them from one month to four. With that resolved, we will start paddling.
 Heather & Brandon
@@ Line 292: / Line 302: @@
 </WRAP>
+<WRAP centeralign>
+{{:adventure:baikal:baikal_49_old_school.jpg?direct&648x432|baikal_49_old_school.jpg}}
+**Old School Meets New School**
+</WRAP>
+----
 ===== Around Lake Baikal =====
@@ Line 301: / Line 321: @@
 ==== Day 1 - Wednesday June 04, 2003 - Brandon ====
-Subject: Around Baikal - Day 1 -- June 1, 2003
+Subject: Around Baikal - Day 1 – June 1, 2003
-We paddled out of Bolshoye Goloustnoye this morning around 8 o'clock. A small party of our new friends gathered at the beach to see us off and wish us well and, to repeat once more, the warnings about the wind. (Yesterday afternoon, Heather and I waked down to the beach where we were to launch. Loose clothes whipping our skin - we recorded the speed at 36 miles per hour.
+We paddled out of Bolshoye Goloustnoye this morning around 8 o'clock. A small party of our new friends gathered at the beach to see us off and wish us well and, to repeat once more, the warnings about the wind. (Yesterday afternoon, Heather and I walked down to the beach where we were to launch. Loose clothes whipping our skin - we recorded the speed at 36 miles per hour.
-Nonetheless, we paddled across glass for the first 3 hours today; away from any cabins and roads -- into what we came for -- the Siberian wilderness. Despite our original plan of traveling clockwise around the lake, we learned since arriving here that winds favor the opposite. We are now south of where we started. About half way through the mouth of the Angara - Baikal's only out flowing river. This change benefits us in several ways, aside from keeping predominate winds at our backs. First, the North end of the lake still has ice (water temperatures even this far south is sub-forty). Second, we will be near civilization for the first couple weeks, so there is less pressure to have our food supply nailed down. Lastly, it gives us more time to get in shape for what we've learned is the crux: the cliff just north of B.G. Stretching north to Olkhon Island.
+Nonetheless, we paddled across glass for the first 3 hours today; away from any cabins and roads – into what we came for – the Siberian wilderness. Despite our original plan of traveling clockwise around the lake, we learned since arriving here that winds favor the opposite. We are now south of where we started. About half way through the mouth of the Angara - Baikal's only out flowing river. This change benefits us in several ways, aside from keeping predominate winds at our backs. First, the North end of the lake still has ice (water temperatures even this far south is sub-forty). Second, we will be near civilization for the first couple weeks, so there is less pressure to have our food supply nailed down. Lastly, it gives us more time to get in shape for what we've learned is the crux: the cliff just north of B.G. Stretching north to Olkhon Island.
-We are sticking to our plan of a conservative approach early on, by following closely to contours of the mountainous shoreline. And, staying ready to be off the water instantly if the need arises. Today it builds "gradually" -- by 11 a.m. a north wind began churning up swells and within 15 minutes we were surfing 2 foot waves. After 13 miles we called it a day -- on the water -- but, not in the water: Heather "broke the ice" and paid homage to Baikal with a baptismal plunge! (Shouting all the way, "this one's for Kelly!")
+We are sticking to our plan of a conservative approach early on, by following closely to contours of the mountainous shoreline. And, staying ready to be off the water instantly if the need arises. Today it builds "gradually" – by 11 a.m. a north wind began churning up swells and within 15 minutes we were surfing 2 foot waves. After 13 miles we called it a day – on the water – but, not in the water: Heather "broke the ice" and paid homage to Baikal with a baptismal plunge! (Shouting all the way, "this one's for Kelly!")
 Around Baikal Expedition has officially begun!!
@@ Line 333: / Line 353: @@
 ==== Day 6 Tuesday June 10, 2003 - Heather ====
-Around Baikal -- Day 6, June
+Around Baikal – Day 6, June
-On Day 5 we hit our first major milestone -- the southern most point of Baikal. After a food buy in the town of Sludyanka, photos and high fives, we headed north to our next milestone…the Baikalsk Pulp and Paper Mill.
+On Day 5 we hit our first major milestone – the southern most point of Baikal. After a food buy in the town of Sludyanka, photos and high fives, we headed north to our next milestone…the Baikalsk Pulp and Paper Mill.
 For over a year I have been seeing pictures of the mill in Baikalsk. It was created during World War II to create "super cellulose" for aircraft tires. Sixty years later it is still active, though now it produces rayon for clothing.
-We paddled quickly past Baikalsk, hungry for the solitude of the North. But, on our way out of town, we were bombarded by Louis Armstrong, signing "What a Wonderful World," to a techno-beat. We couldn't resist meeting the Russians whose car it was blaring from. So, we pulled to the side and shouted, "Strasvitye." "Hello" a voice called back. Four Russians came to greet us - two of them speaking English -- a rare treat out here -- and, one wearing a Tahoe recycling shirt. He turned out to be a good friend of our man Hank from BG. Hank, greetings to you from Zhenya in Baikal.
+We paddled quickly past Baikalsk, hungry for the solitude of the North. But, on our way out of town, we were bombarded by Louis Armstrong, signing "What a Wonderful World," to a techno-beat. We couldn't resist meeting the Russians whose car it was blaring from. So, we pulled to the side and shouted, "Strasvitye." "Hello" a voice called back. Four Russians came to greet us - two of them speaking English – a rare treat out here – and, one wearing a Tahoe recycling shirt. He turned out to be a good friend of our man Hank from BG. Hank, greetings to you from Zhenya in Baikal.
 Heather and Brandon
@@ Line 357: / Line 377: @@
 Having now spent 10 days living on the beaches and traveling the waters of Lake Baikal, my days of doubting or disbelieving such tales are now over.
-There are literally blankets of bugs here and, in fact, it might do better to say there is one blanket and it has stretched continuously for the last week and a half. These voracious insects, crawl upon and cling to everything -- solid, liquid or gas.
+There are literally blankets of bugs here and, in fact, it might do better to say there is one blanket and it has stretched continuously for the last week and a half. These voracious insects, crawl upon and cling to everything – solid, liquid or gas.
 The lakes surface is alive with skittering, swimming, twitching, critters. Every rock and bit of wood along the beach is a cavern, a condo, for not dozens, but hundreds of vibrating vermin who skull or flitter away when we walk by. Within 60 seconds of landing on shore and climbing from our kayaks, one thousand new residents move in, on, and under the boats and their payload.
@@ Line 383: / Line 403: @@
 Our last clear day, the last day we were able to solar charge our batteries, and, let the sun warm us after our post paddle swim, was day 5 (June 5, 2003.)
-Tomorrow we head north into the Selenga River Delta, Baikal's largest tributary -- delivering 40% of the lake's inflowing water.
+Tomorrow we head north into the Selenga River Delta, Baikal's largest tributary – delivering 40% of the lake's inflowing water.
 The Selenga is a 30 mile wide maze of swamps and meandering waterways. With no landing along its foggy outer edge, our plan is to paddle upstream far enough to reach the main fork, then turn, and ride the current out to it's Northern exit. With luck we will be on the lake again in 2 days.
@@ Line 405: / Line 425: @@
 :45 A.M. the following morning we paddled out into a haze so thick you could reach out and touch it. Within 3 minutes of shoving off, every argument we had made against traversing the outside of the delta stood up and screamed, 'You should've gone the other way, fools.'
-We kayaked in water so shallow, our paddles scraped the bottom with every stroke. When water gave way to a sand bar we dragged our boats. We headed straight out to sea using our compass for guidance until not even a shadow of land was visible -- yet the shallows persisted. Winds were building from the west, my barometer was dropping and, in my mind I was remembering the promises I'd made to my parents, “Of course we will be careful.” “Yes, we will hug the shore” and “No, we won't take any unnecessary risks."
+We kayaked in water so shallow, our paddles scraped the bottom with every stroke. When water gave way to a sand bar we dragged our boats. We headed straight out to sea using our compass for guidance until not even a shadow of land was visible – yet the shallows persisted. Winds were building from the west, my barometer was dropping and, in my mind I was remembering the promises I'd made to my parents, “Of course we will be careful.” “Yes, we will hug the shore” and “No, we won't take any unnecessary risks."
 Three miles into the 35-40 mile paddle, Brandon's voice snapped me out of my trance. "We need to rethink this," he shouted over the wind. I made my way over to his boat and as we sat side by side on the outskirts of the largest Delta, of the largest lake in the world, we came up with a plan…
@@ Line 437: / Line 457: @@
 Around Baikal - Selenga, Part III Day 17, June 17, 2003
-Brandon: To me the Selenga Delta is the crux of this entire expedition. I've been stressing about it every day since we started. Cursed with no landing, fine! Storm force winds and twenty-foot swells, bring it on. But, a giant swamp with one thousand twists, turns and outlets leading thru the dreaded mud-flats -- this is nightmare material.
+Brandon: To me the Selenga Delta is the crux of this entire expedition. I've been stressing about it every day since we started. Cursed with no landing, fine! Storm force winds and twenty-foot swells, bring it on. But, a giant swamp with one thousand twists, turns and outlets leading thru the dreaded mud-flats – this is nightmare material.
 Heather: To be honest, I hadn't given much thought to the Selenga until Alexey and Olga sat down with us over a map and showed us the inside route. I loved the challenge immediately - an expedition within an expedition! Besides, I've made sure we have a ton of food, we can't possibly run out of water and, if we make a wrong turn we just backtrack upriver.
@@ Line 447: / Line 467: @@
 Brandon: Let's see, if my calculations are accurate, that last mile took 1,810 strokes and 33 minutes. At this pace it'll be close to midnight before we are safe on the Lake again, unless of course, the tail wind dies down. Where's Heather? Damn it girl, don't you know we are racing for our lives?
-Heather: What a jerk, we've been paddling upstream for 9 hours and he hasn't let me rest since noon. Look at him snacking up there! If  I could just get a little closer. Damn, there he goes again. Does he think we are in a race or something? Well, I have the food and the maps, he can't get too far.
+Heather: What a jerk, we've been paddling upstream for 9 hours and he hasn't let me rest since noon. Look at him snacking up there! If I could just get a little closer. Damn, there he goes again. Does he think we are in a race or something? Well, I have the food and the maps, he can't get too far.
 Brandon: This isn't in my plan, but this looks like a nice camp. I wonder if Heather would mind pulling over for the night.
@@ Line 459: / Line 479: @@
 Brandon: All right, today is our day. If we don't make it to our down stream turn and start heading out of this place by 10 a.m I'll have to consider a satellite relay SOS to the American embassy.
-Heather: Wa hoo! Down river! Now I can stop paddling and still go 4 miles per hour. At this rate we will reach the Lake by noon. Piroshki’s and  smoked omur by 1:00 P.M.
+Heather: Wa hoo! Down river! Now I can stop paddling and still go 4 miles per hour. At this rate we will reach the Lake by noon. Piroshki’s and smoked omur by 1:00 P.M.
 Brandon: Is that…? Oh, can it be? Oh, thank you God, praise Burkham, we've reached the Lake! We're saved! Good riddance Selenga!
@@ Line 509: / Line 529: @@
 ----
-==== Day 26 Ust Barguzin Thursday June 26, 2003 - Heather  ====
+==== Day 26 Ust Barguzin Thursday June 26, 2003 - Heather ====
 If the Selenga was the gateway into a beautiful, wild, untamed Baikal, then Ust Barguzin has been the gateway to luxury. We arrived in the village around 10:30 A.M. Monday morning. I stood guard by the boats while Brandon searched for our contact, Vera. As we had pulled up beside a busy ferry terminal, I became a sideshow to lift the boredom of Russians of all shapes and sizes stuck in line, waiting their turn to board the small ferry boat. Our canary-yellow and sky-blue kayaks, mango life vests and orange sun hats and splash jackets that would make any highway worker proud drew people like seagulls to a bucket full of fish guts.
-First the curious Siberians would approach slowly, not looking directly at me as not to give away their interest. Then a bold group nonchalantly moves in: a dignified woman with her grandchildren. They touch our gear gingerly, smile for a photo, but are quickly shoved out of the way by a boisterous gang of men who bang on the boat and appear to discuss how seaworthy these long, skinny craft could possibly be. The door has been opened…now they come in flocks. Five rescue workers offering their card, a fisherman selling smoked omul, a traveler biologist toting a large backpack and hiking the lakeshore, and a young girl eating sunflower seeds. But finally, the alpha moves in and everyone else scatters. This comes in the form of two 12-year-old boys who try on every piece of gear, touch, knock, yank and switch on everything they can get their hands on.  But before the boys destroy anything,  Brandon arrives on his white horse – a cargo truck driven by our new host, Sergei.
+First the curious Siberians would approach slowly, not looking directly at me as not to give away their interest. Then a bold group nonchalantly moves in: a dignified woman with her grandchildren. They touch our gear gingerly, smile for a photo, but are quickly shoved out of the way by a boisterous gang of men who bang on the boat and appear to discuss how seaworthy these long, skinny craft could possibly be. The door has been opened…now they come in flocks. Five rescue workers offering their card, a fisherman selling smoked omul, a traveler biologist toting a large backpack and hiking the lakeshore, and a young girl eating sunflower seeds. But finally, the alpha moves in and everyone else scatters. This comes in the form of two 12-year-old boys who try on every piece of gear, touch, knock, yank and switch on everything they can get their hands on. But before the boys destroy anything, Brandon arrives on his white horse – a cargo truck driven by our new host, Sergei.
 By 1:30 p.m., Sergei had our boats stored in his garage, had given us a room for the night with a queen-size bed, 2 easy chairs and a telescope by the window, he’d heated up the bana and fed us soup with veggies fresh from the garden, homemade bread, crepes, tea and sweets. It has been pure luxury, after 23 days “at sea” to be fed, pampered, bathed, and did I mention fed?
@@ Line 549: / Line 569: @@
 ==== Day 33 Friday July 04, 2003 - Brandon ====
-NOTE FROM JANET NELSON: I wish everyone could have heard Brandon's voice as he dictated the following update -- the compassion and empathy he expressed was tremendous.
+NOTE FROM JANET NELSON: I wish everyone could have heard Brandon's voice as he dictated the following update – the compassion and empathy he expressed was tremendous.
-Around Baikal -- Day 33-Brandon
+Around Baikal – Day 33-Brandon
 In the midst of our day among the Nerpas of Bushkani Islands, we were both surprised at how incredibly shy these animals are. Aside from the one youngster, who modeled for Heather's photographic frenzy, no seal would come near us or even stay above water for more than a moment after spotting us. We read that, approached over ice, Nerpas will bolt at once; as this is how several thousand of their kind are hunted each winter. But, the mid summer fear of humans we saw was plain.
@@ Line 557: / Line 577: @@
 So, as we continued our rounding of the Holy Nose and, not 6 feet from Heather's boat, a Nerpa broke the surface and then lay there. We didn't know what to make of it. Lifting our paddles from the water, we both looked on for a few seconds and expected a departing splash, but none came. "Is it dead?" Heather asked.
-Slowly, we paddled closer and then saw the reason. This full-grown Nerpa was not dead, but, tightly bound in a section of fishing net. Like a lens, the icy clear water magnified the woven strands biting into flesh and fur. The Nerpa wasn't tangled, it's flippers were free and the section of net was separate from any lines or long trailings. It was more like a body suit of netting only 6 sizes too small -- as if it had been grown into over the years.
+Slowly, we paddled closer and then saw the reason. This full-grown Nerpa was not dead, but, tightly bound in a section of fishing net. Like a lens, the icy clear water magnified the woven strands biting into flesh and fur. The Nerpa wasn't tangled, it's flippers were free and the section of net was separate from any lines or long trailings. It was more like a body suit of netting only 6 sizes too small – as if it had been grown into over the years.
 This Nerpa needed our help. As we looked on, the seal dove a mere 4 feet below, then stopped and looked up. Bigger, sadder eyes I hope to never see. Without sound from wind or waves and, for an eternity the creature floated and stared up at us, "Are you the ones, will you cut this hellish twine from me at last? Can I trust you?"
@@ Line 579: / Line 599: @@
 Our decision to go counter clockwise around the lake has given me ample time to really nail down my food buys. If I didn't calculate my proportions correctly, forgot an item or could not find something we needed, there would be another village within a few days. But, as we approached Ust Barguzin and the Grizzly Coast, the pressure was on. With nearly 300 miles of uninhabited coast, and with a 6'6", 240 pound husband, who's got the appetite of a grizzly coming out of hibernation relying on me…I was about as tense as a deer with a big-rig bearing down at it at 65 miles per hour. But, I refused to be the deer caught in the headlights. I was going to be prepared for my big food buy.
-My tent became my headquarters for "Operation Food Buy." Two Russian/English dictionaries, flash cards, index cards, a 24" X 50" Baikal map, a Baikal chart book, three pens -- red, blue & black, and a copy of a shopping list I had made in Irkustk surrounded me. I stared at the map with an intensity reserved for a college student, cramming for finals. I count kilometers from Ust Barguzin to Severobaikalsk, double check on the second map, figure time in for storm days…then do it again.
+My tent became my headquarters for "Operation Food Buy." Two Russian/English dictionaries, flash cards, index cards, a 24" X 50" Baikal map, a Baikal chart book, three pens – red, blue & black, and a copy of a shopping list I had made in Irkustk surrounded me. I stared at the map with an intensity reserved for a college student, cramming for finals. I count kilometers from Ust Barguzin to Severobaikalsk, double check on the second map, figure time in for storm days…then do it again.
-Twenty-one days, I decide, now the shopping list. I grab an index card. On the left, I write the item in black ink -- making sure to include the number or the kilograms I need. Next to it, I write in red, the Russian word, which I have translated letter by letter from Cyrillic. At the bottom of the list in blue, I make a cheat sheet… how to count from one to ten…how to say tin, or bag, or half a kilo.
+Twenty-one days, I decide, now the shopping list. I grab an index card. On the left, I write the item in black ink – making sure to include the number or the kilograms I need. Next to it, I write in red, the Russian word, which I have translated letter by letter from Cyrillic. At the bottom of the list in blue, I make a cheat sheet… how to count from one to ten…how to say tin, or bag, or half a kilo.
-Next, the food buy. One would be wrong in assuming the actual food buy is the easy part. The markets, ‘magazines’ -- they are called, are about the size of an AM/PM. Each item is displayed on a shelf behind the counter. As an impatient line forms behind me, I point, fumble with the list, pull out my dictionary, stumble through words and try to explain apologetically, "ya nye gavarut po rooski." Finally, I emerge with about one quarter of what I need. Luckily, each village has about four magazines.
+Next, the food buy. One would be wrong in assuming the actual food buy is the easy part. The markets, ‘magazines’ – they are called, are about the size of an AM/PM. Each item is displayed on a shelf behind the counter. As an impatient line forms behind me, I point, fumble with the list, pull out my dictionary, stumble through words and try to explain apologetically, "ya nye gavarut po rooski." Finally, I emerge with about one quarter of what I need. Luckily, each village has about four magazines.
 Now, eight days into the isolated Grizzly Coast, we pull our boats ashore, exhausted from a long day of paddling. Brandon sets up the tent while I start dinner. My mouth waters at the thought of the pasta, salmon and mushroom feast I'm about to create. As the pasta cooks to tender perfection I prepare the main ingredients, which entails, opening the cans, draining the water, and spooning into the pots.
-No sooner than I had opened the first can, I started to giggle. I opened the second can and burst into fits of laughter  that had Brandon rolling before he ever knew what was happening. "Baby," I finally spit out, "tonight we eat pasta with salmon flavored cat food and almond stuffed olives."
+No sooner than I had opened the first can, I started to giggle. I opened the second can and burst into fits of laughter that had Brandon rolling before he ever knew what was happening. "Baby," I finally spit out, "tonight we eat pasta with salmon flavored cat food and almond stuffed olives."
 He ate the meal with gusto, and even licked the pot clean…But, I still haven't had the heart to tell him that the emergency supply of peanut butter I purchased in case we run out of everything else…well…let's just say we've got enough butterscotch to invite forty of our friends over for Sundae’s!
@@ Line 595: / Line 615: @@
 Location: North 54 degrees 31' 39.6" East 109 degrees 29' 55.8"
-For those of us who don't have the equipment to chart the location using degrees, minutes and seconds, you can find a map of Lake Baikal at: chargelife.com According to Brandon they are about ¾ of the way up the East side of Lake Baikal. All the updates can be found at the chargelfe.com
+For those of us who don't have the equipment to chart the location using degrees, minutes and seconds, you can find a map of Lake Baikal at:<del> chargelife.com</del> According to Brandon they are about ¾ of the way up the East side of Lake Baikal. All the updates can be found at the <del>chargelfe.com</del>
 ----
@@ Line 605: / Line 625: @@
 Don't be bamboozled by Heather's tale of pet food pasta, and a bucket of butterscotch.
-Labels aside, I've been served far more frightening food at restaurants far and wide -- without eight hours of paddlin' behind me to get my gut rumblin' like thunder. And, I damn sure didn't get to climb into bed with the cook after desert.
+Labels aside, I've been served far more frightening food at restaurants far and wide – without eight hours of paddlin' behind me to get my gut rumblin' like thunder. And, I damn sure didn't get to climb into bed with the cook after desert.
 But, Heather's not one to pat her own back. So, let me serve up a slice of what must be her train of thought on any given day in the camp kitchen.
@@ Line 619: / Line 639: @@
 Peaches and cream, that's standard fare, and so are the wolves and the grizzly bear; Who be sniffing my food, and acting rude. Look dudes, I'm cooking for two.
-Not you, not today -- and tonight my kitchen be twenty miles away. And after that, there's two hundred more, til the next store.
+Not you, not today – and tonight my kitchen be twenty miles away. And after that, there's two hundred more, til the next store.
 So, if you're feelin' like stealin' - You be dealin' with a woman crazed; Not phased by the fangs and claws.
@@ Line 637: / Line 657: @@
 Today is a special and symbolic day for us, the 40th day of the expedition. We've reached the northernmost end of Lake Baikal and our camp in the sheltering dunes of the upper Angara. The Grizzly Coast and nearly 700 miles of our journey are behind us now and tomorrow we begin the southward leg back towards where we began.
-Not a minute, nor a paddle stroke has past, that we aren't grateful for what has brought us this far -- good luck and the grace of Nature and Baikal and the endless support of our families, friends, sponsors and strangers, who showered us with blessings. And, certainly our arsenal of bombproof gear. In the vast universe of outdoor equipment, we have been granted the perfect combination to explore Baikal in total and complete comfort. For that, we send our warmest thanks to our team of, "Whatever you need! Yes, is the answer! Make it happen!" - Sponsors Extraordinaire: Adventure Medical Kit Banks Fry-Bake Company Brunton Current Designs Earth Island Institute Hennessey Hammocks Kokatat Mother Lode River Center Mountain Surf Pelican Products
+Not a minute, nor a paddle stroke has past, that we aren't grateful for what has brought us this far – good luck and the grace of Nature and Baikal and the endless support of our families, friends, sponsors and strangers, who showered us with blessings. And, certainly our arsenal of bombproof gear. In the vast universe of outdoor equipment, we have been granted the perfect combination to explore Baikal in total and complete comfort. For that, we send our warmest thanks to our team of, "Whatever you need! Yes, is the answer! Make it happen!" - Sponsors Extraordinaire: Adventure Medical Kit Banks Fry-Bake Company Brunton Current Designs Earth Island Institute Hennessey Hammocks Kokatat Mother Lode River Center Mountain Surf Pelican Products
 As a final note, though, we could never express how deep our gratitude runs. We send our special thanks to Mom and dad Nelson, Mom and dad Christensen, and the trio who tied up every loose end that we couldn't reach: Hank in BG, Sergei in Moscow, and Jack in Irkutsk, "Spafeeba ogramnoye!"
@@ Line 647: / Line 667: @@
 ----
-==== Day 43 Sunday July 13, 2003-Brandon ====
+==== Day 43 Sunday July 13, 2003 - Brandon ====
-Around Baikal -- Day 43, July 13, 2003
+Around Baikal – Day 43, July 13, 2003
 There is a habit among Baikal's coastal residents, universal among young boys and girls, store clerks, rangers, fishermen, priests…if the Pope himself were a Siberian, I'm sure his behavior would be no different.
@@ Line 669: / Line 689: @@
 miles south of Vero Baikal
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+----
-Tuesday July 15, 2003-Brandon
+**Tuesday July 15, 2003-Brandon**
 Around Baikal - Day 43 (continued) July 13, 2003
@@ Line 677: / Line 697: @@
 To a lone pair of unarmed travelers, infinitely far from home and already edgy from the four "grizzly" visits of the past week, the sight of a gun in a stranger’s hands is anything but comforting.
-Pavel knew this and before he'd come within a kayak's length of where we stood, he laid his century-old rifle in the rocks; then came forward to shake hands. His look was timeless: aged boots, trousers, and jacket, all the same earthy colors of the forest he appeared from. Darker patches were hand-sewn over his knees and elbows, and a shapeless hat sat softly upon his head. From his belt hung a black leather sheath, with a bone handled knife. And, on his back, a narrow rug-sack -- I could image held some bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth, a pack of matches, and a whetstone. Last in the pack was a small crude ax.
+Pavel knew this and before he'd come within a kayak's length of where we stood, he laid his century-old rifle in the rocks; then came forward to shake hands. His look was timeless: aged boots, trousers, and jacket, all the same earthy colors of the forest he appeared from. Darker patches were hand-sewn over his knees and elbows, and a shapeless hat sat softly upon his head. From his belt hung a black leather sheath, with a bone handled knife. And, on his back, a narrow rug-sack – I could image held some bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth, a pack of matches, and a whetstone. Last in the pack was a small crude ax.
 We exchanged names, then, I offered the three or four phrases that explained our trip: where we started, where we are going, how long we've been out. To each he said nothing, and I understood his gentle smile and nod to mean that, somehow, he already knew.
-Gesturing for us to continue on with our lunch, Pavel backed a few steps and squatted down. While Heather gathered some wood for a fire, I set to cleaning the fish. When I finished, Pavel held out several pieces of birch bark -- the natural lighter fluid of Siberia. Inside a minute, our small cooking fire crackled to life. By the time we looked up from the growing flames, Pavel was gliding to us over the rocks while he whittled a sapling into a perfect sharp lance.
+Gesturing for us to continue on with our lunch, Pavel backed a few steps and squatted down. While Heather gathered some wood for a fire, I set to cleaning the fish. When I finished, Pavel held out several pieces of birch bark – the natural lighter fluid of Siberia. Inside a minute, our small cooking fire crackled to life. By the time we looked up from the growing flames, Pavel was gliding to us over the rocks while he whittled a sapling into a perfect sharp lance.
 Reaching us, he held out his hand for the fish and, with two quick cuts had halved it, and unfolded it along the spine, like a book. After he threaded it onto the stick, he spoke his second word of the entire encounter, "salt."
@@ Line 695: / Line 715: @@
 Location: North 55 degrees 18' 48" East 109 degrees 11' 20.5"
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+----
-Saturday July 19, 2003-Brandon
+==== Day 48 Saturday July 19, 2003 - Brandon ====
 Around Baikal - Day 48, July 18, 2003
@@ Line 703: / Line 723: @@
 One night during our layover in Ust Barguzin, our host Sergey, called me aside for a man to man chat. With a grave look on his face, he asked me how we had prepared to deal with "hooligans." I chuckled softly; as much at his choice of words as anything. But, Sergey clearly didn't think it was funny.
-I folded my hands and bowed my head -- meaning that our only defense was to pray for safety. Sergey was not impressed. He led me into his house and to a tall wooden cabinet which I was sure held a collection of guns. There was no way was I about to go cruising with my wife around back country Russia, packing a freekin' pistol in my kayak, and had steeled myself to refuse the offer.
+I folded my hands and bowed my head – meaning that our only defense was to pray for safety. Sergey was not impressed. He led me into his house and to a tall wooden cabinet which I was sure held a collection of guns. There was no way was I about to go cruising with my wife around back country Russia, packing a freekin' pistol in my kayak, and had steeled myself to refuse the offer.
 Sergey pulled open a long drawer, reached in and took out what looked like a giant policeman's flashlight. The kind that runs on 8 D cell batteries. It was pretty beat up, had some electrical tape wrapped around it's base and, where the bulb would usually be, there was, instead, a pair of thick metal prongs.
-I had no idea what I was looking at. Sergey motioned for me to stand back. I gulped. He held the thing at arms length and thumbed the switch. There was nothing to see at first -- just a disturbing buzz, growing steadily louder like the device was collecting energy. I held my breath. Suddenly, a crooked, wiggly moose of blue electricity shot out from the prongs; cracking and popping like a toaster oven dropped in a bathtub.
+I had no idea what I was looking at. Sergey motioned for me to stand back. I gulped. He held the thing at arms length and thumbed the switch. There was nothing to see at first – just a disturbing buzz, growing steadily louder like the device was collecting energy. I held my breath. Suddenly, a crooked, wiggly moose of blue electricity shot out from the prongs; cracking and popping like a toaster oven dropped in a bathtub.
 I stared, entranced, and when I finally turned my eyes to Sergey, his face had a look fiendish and wild. After a few seconds, he released the switch and the blue spike of spark and fire disappeared.
@@ Line 727: / Line 747: @@
 LOCATION: about 75 miles south of Vero Baikal
-\\
+----
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
-Monday July 21, 2003-Heather
+**Day 48 - Heather**
-Around Baikal - Day 48 Part II
+<WRAP indent>
-…We could not have hoped for a more perfect day. Even our yellow and blue kayaks, hunter's orange splash jackets, and mango life vests, could not penetrate the freakishly thick fog. The stormy seas were a blessing as well, absorbing the sounds of our approach. Even hugging the shore, we would be invisible.
+**Around Baikal 2003 - Day 48 Part I**
-"Baby, wake up," I urged mercilessly, at 5 a.m. Brandon opened one eye, careful not to wake the other and waited for an explanation for the rude awakening. I uttered 3 words. Three words that we both knew when spoken, were the final say. They were our war cry, our starting line cheer, our get up and make it happen, raise your fists in the air and shout; "IT IS TIME!" I said, with a seriousness of a general to his troops.
+Monday July 18, 2003 - Heather
-Hearing these words Brandon rose from his sleeping bag and sprung into action. With the pulse of Baikal as our camouflage, we were on the water, paddling south, less than an hour later.
+The sound of crashing surf rattled me awake. I peaked outside the tent and instantly the thick fog enveloped me and covered me in a fine mist. Our boats, which we had pulled up alongside the tent the evening before, were mere apparitions in the watery haze. Perfect!
-With fog as thick as soup, navigation proved to be a nearly impossible fete. We could hardly see the shore to our right, and all other terrain was devoured by the immense fog. Brandon watched the compass helping track small points and bays. I carefully studied the map, estimated our pace and established an ETA of 8:15 A.M.
+Nearly 50 days and 800 miles ago, before our kayaks had graced the waters of Lake Baikal, we had been warned of a man and his three sons who preyed on weary travelers. Behind the safety of his shotgun, the hooligan had shamelessly waved in two French kayakers and stole their video camera and the money they needed to complete their journey. Later that same summer, when two Russian kayakers refused to be bullied by the gunman, he sent his three rifle-toting sons down the coast after them. They persisted for over three miles before turning back empty-handed.
-At 8:08 I called Brandon to my side with a whistle. I pointed to the faint outline of a mountain to the West, and, explained in a whisper "at the base of a mountain is a river, next to the river lives the "boogeyman." No sooner had the words crossed my lips than a roofline rose eerily out of the fog.
+With these stories and others floating in our heads, we settled in to a camp 8 miles north of the bold, red notation I had made on my map: "BAD MAN HERE!" Our plan was to wake up early, blow by the boogeyman and not stop for 15 miles after that.
-My left foot slammed down on my rudder control and I paddled out to sea as if the band of burglarizing, boogeymen had already given chase. When my skin stopped prickling with images of a gun pointed at my back, I steered closer to shore. But, it was hours before we stepped with shaking legs onto solid ground.
+We could not have hoped for a more perfect day. Even our yellow and blue kayaks, hunter's orange splash jackets and mango life vests could not penetrate the freakishly thick fog. The stormy seas were a blessing as well, absorbing the sounds of our approach. Hugging the shore, we would be invisible.
-We whispered quietly, our congratulations. Then, courage and adrenaline took over and we looked to the sky and shouted, "Thank you Burkhan!"
+"Baby! Wake up!" I urged mercilessly at 5 a.m. Brandon opened one eye, careful not to wake the other, and waited for an explanation for the rude awakening. I uttered the three words–three words that we both knew were the final say; they were our war cry, our starting line cheer, our Get up and make it happen, Raise your fist in the air shout: "It is time!" I said them with the seriousness of a general to his troops.
-Location: North 54 degrees 00' 40.3" East 108 degrees 13' 51.3
+Hearing those words, Brandon rose from his sleeping bag and sprung into action. With the pulse of Baikal as our camouflage we were on the water paddling south less than an hour later. Once afloat, navigation proved to be a nearly impossible feat. We could see the shore to our right, but all other terrain was devoured by the fog. Brandon watched the compass, helping track small points and bays. I carefully studied the map, estimated our pace and established an ETA of 8:15 a.m.
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+At 8:08 a.m. I called Brandon to my side with a whistle. I pointed to the faint outline of a mountain to the west and explained in a whisper, "At the base of the mountain is a river, next to the river lives the boogeyman!"
-Monday July 18, 2003-Heather
+No sooner had the words crossed my lips than a roofline rose eerily out of the fog. My left foot slammed down on my rudder control and I paddled out to sea as if the band of burgling boogeymen had already given chase. When my skin stopped prickling with images of a gun pointed at my back, I steered closer to shore.
-Around Baikal 2003-Day 48 Part I
+But it was hours before we stepped onto solid ground. We whispered quietly our congratulations, then courage and adrenaline took over and we looked to the sky and shouted, "Thank you Burkhan!"
-The sound of crashing surf rattled me awake. I peaked outside the tent and instantly the thick fog enveloped me and covered me in a fine mist. Our boats, which we had pulled up alongside the tent the evening before, were mere apparitions in the watery haze. Perfect!
+**Around Baikal - Day 48 Part II - Heather**
-Nearly 50 days and 800 miles ago, before our kayaks had graced the waters of Lake Baikal, we had been warned of a man and his three sons who preyed on weary travelers. Behind the safety of his shotgun, the hooligan had shamelessly waved in two French kayakers and stole their video camera and the money they needed to complete their journey. Later that same summer, when two Russian kayakers refused to be bullied by the gunman, he sent his three rifle-toting sons down the coast after them. They persisted for over three miles before turning back empty-handed.
+**Monday July 21, 2003**
-With these stories and others floating in our heads, we settled in to a camp 8 miles north of the bold, red notation I had made on my map: "BAD MAN HERE!" Our plan was to wake up early, blow by the boogeyman and not stop for 15 miles after that.
+…We could not have hoped for a more perfect day. Even our yellow and blue kayaks, hunter's orange splash jackets, and mango life vests, could not penetrate the freakishly thick fog. The stormy seas were a blessing as well, absorbing the sounds of our approach. Even hugging the shore, we would be invisible.
-We could not have hoped for a more perfect day. Even our yellow and blue kayaks, hunter's orange splash jackets and mango life vests could not penetrate the freakishly thick fog. The stormy seas were a blessing as well, absorbing the sounds of our approach. Hugging the shore, we would be invisible.
+"Baby, wake up," I urged mercilessly, at 5 a.m. Brandon opened one eye, careful not to wake the other and waited for an explanation for the rude awakening. I uttered 3 words. Three words that we both knew when spoken, were the final say. They were our war cry, our starting line cheer, our get up and make it happen, raise your fists in the air and shout; "IT IS TIME!" I said, with a seriousness of a general to his troops.
-"Baby! Wake up!" I urged mercilessly at 5 a.m. Brandon opened one eye, careful not to wake the other, and waited for an explanation for the rude awakening. I uttered the three words--three words that we both knew were the final say; they were our war cry, our starting line cheer, our Get up and make it happen, Raise your fist in the air shout: "It is time!" I said them with the seriousness of a general to his troops.
+Hearing these words Brandon rose from his sleeping bag and sprung into action. With the pulse of Baikal as our camouflage, we were on the water, paddling south, less than an hour later.
-Hearing those words, Brandon rose from his sleeping bag and sprung into action. With the pulse of Baikal as our camouflage we were on the water paddling south less than an hour later. Once afloat, navigation proved to be a nearly impossible feat. We could see the shore to our right, but all other terrain was devoured by the fog. Brandon watched the compass, helping track small points and bays. I carefully studied the map, estimated our pace and established an ETA of 8:15 a.m.
+With fog as thick as soup, navigation proved to be a nearly impossible fete. We could hardly see the shore to our right, and all other terrain was devoured by the immense fog. Brandon watched the compass helping track small points and bays. I carefully studied the map, estimated our pace and established an ETA of 8:15 A.M.
-At 8:08 a.m. I called Brandon to my side with a whistle. I pointed to the faint outline of a mountain to the west and explained in a whisper, "At the base of the mountain is a river, next to the river lives the boogeyman!"
+At 8:08 I called Brandon to my side with a whistle. I pointed to the faint outline of a mountain to the West, and, explained in a whisper "at the base of a mountain is a river, next to the river lives the "boogeyman." No sooner had the words crossed my lips than a roofline rose eerily out of the fog.
-No sooner had the words crossed my lips than a roofline rose eerily out of the fog. My left foot slammed down on my rudder control and I paddled out to sea as if the band of burgling boogeymen had already given chase. When my skin stopped prickling with images of a gun pointed at my back, I steered closer to shore.
+My left foot slammed down on my rudder control and I paddled out to sea as if the band of burglarizing, boogeymen had already given chase. When my skin stopped prickling with images of a gun pointed at my back, I steered closer to shore. But, it was hours before we stepped with shaking legs onto solid ground.
-But it was hours before we stepped onto solid ground. We whispered quietly our congratulations, then courage and adrenaline took over and we looked to the sky and shouted, "Thank you Burkhan!"
+We whispered quietly, our congratulations. Then, courage and adrenaline took over and we looked to the sky and shouted, "Thank you Burkhan!"
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+Location: North 54 degrees 00' 40.3" East 108 degrees 13' 51.3
+</WRAP>
+----
-Monday July 28, 2003-Brandon
+==== Day 58 Monday July 28, 2003 - Brandon ====
 Around Baikal, Day 58, July 28, 2003
@@ Line 794: / Line 817: @@
 P. S. Brandon's final thoughts of this message were, "I wish you could see it thru my eyes, what I'm looking at right now. It's just the most amazing…what I'm looking at. I can see across the Bay, to the other side of Lake Baikal. And, the clouds are just soooooo dark, and so cottony…it looks like you could take a big scoop of them…it looks like mud. It's been this way for a couple of days. It's starting to break up to the South, it's just amazing…"
-\\
+----
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
-Monday August 04, 2003
+==== Day 63 Monday August 04, 2003 ====
 Around Baikal, Day 63, August 3, 2003
-Interesting how what passes for a comfortable camp can change so radically with worsening water conditions, burning mutinous muscles and bones, or yet another mile past, without a hint of a landing. A stone shelf, we'd be surprised to see a flock of gulls cling to one day, the next -- can look like the honeymoon suite at the Waldorf.
+Interesting how what passes for a comfortable camp can change so radically with worsening water conditions, burning mutinous muscles and bones, or yet another mile past, without a hint of a landing. A stone shelf, we'd be surprised to see a flock of gulls cling to one day, the next – can look like the honeymoon suite at the Waldorf.
 These postage-stamp size treasures of Siberian real estate, have earned our heartfelt gratitude and, an esteemed spot in our ever-evolving list of expedition lingo. We call them "nuggets."
@@ Line 807: / Line 829: @@
 As we rounded the craggy, un-climbable, northern port of Olkhon, and began cruising the eastern shore, we prayed out loud that there be a humble handful of "nuggets." But our charts portray icons of in-hospitability lining the length of our mythical monolith.
-Radiant lines squeeze together until they nearly overlap and they grow steeper still in their submarine plunge to the center of the earth. The bruise-colored sky of the past few days has thickened like fudge and began to spit. Stroking southward, we clung to our hopes as lifelines and chant our montral, like heroin freaks on a quest for salvation -- "Show me the nuggets!"
+Radiant lines squeeze together until they nearly overlap and they grow steeper still in their submarine plunge to the center of the earth. The bruise-colored sky of the past few days has thickened like fudge and began to spit. Stroking southward, we clung to our hopes as lifelines and chant our montral, like heroin freaks on a quest for salvation – "Show me the nuggets!"
-A pile of gravel, in among house rocks, a slated slab, with room for us both -- if we curl up tight. "A cave, a cave," damp and dark, with shards of stone like daggers, but shelter, nonetheless. We paddled by these geological gems, grinning like apes -- reassured that a perch for the night could be ours. Then, at the start of the second mile, "What's this -- nugget of nuggets!" A pebbled beach 100 yards long. Surely a mirage. But, we paddled to it and true enough, our boats grind ashore.
+A pile of gravel, in among house rocks, a slated slab, with room for us both – if we curl up tight. "A cave, a cave," damp and dark, with shards of stone like daggers, but shelter, nonetheless. We paddled by these geological gems, grinning like apes – reassured that a perch for the night could be ours. Then, at the start of the second mile, "What's this – nugget of nuggets!" A pebbled beach 100 yards long. Surely a mirage. But, we paddled to it and true enough, our boats grind ashore.
 We seize this unimaginable opportunity to add layers for warmth and psych up for the next push, for surely this anomaly of accommodation is a one of a kind. And, thirty miles might pass before another. With a war cry, we shove off and paddle southward again.
-Around the next point we emerge brave to face our vertical walled fate -- but instead discover . . . three more inviting and pristine, driftwood stocked beaches, each one bigger than the last. We cruise past, around each bend there are more, only growing in length and beauty and, features like hammock hanging trees, wind blocking walls and rain sheltering shelves. These aren't nuggets, but full-blown resort-style, stuff-of-dreams, beaches.
+Around the next point we emerge brave to face our vertical walled fate – but instead discover . . . three more inviting and pristine, driftwood stocked beaches, each one bigger than the last. We cruise past, around each bend there are more, only growing in length and beauty and, features like hammock hanging trees, wind blocking walls and rain sheltering shelves. These aren't nuggets, but full-blown resort-style, stuff-of-dreams, beaches.
 As it turns out though, they are merely an appetizer for what is to come. In the days that follow, we find ourselves camped out in utter luxury. Smooth rounded cobble runs for miles lined by lush pines and stands of birch rustling in late summer breezes.
-The Baikal sun finally burned through and dried everything -- including the countless white sandy beaches we explored all day today. As we cruise the southern third of Olkhon - a landscape looking for all the world like its twin -- the Utah desert. We are camped now on the south edge, minutes from where we entered a week ago. Tomorrow, the home stretch begins.
+The Baikal sun finally burned through and dried everything – including the countless white sandy beaches we explored all day today. As we cruise the southern third of Olkhon - a landscape looking for all the world like its twin – the Utah desert. We are camped now on the south edge, minutes from where we entered a week ago. Tomorrow, the home stretch begins.
 Heather and Brandon
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+----
-Saturday August 09, 2003-Brandon
+==== Day 67 Saturday August 09, 2003 - Brandon ====
 Around Baikal, Day 67 - August 6, 2003
@@ Line 833: / Line 855: @@
 Today, after 67 days of exploring and living with, and coming to love this unique and amazing body of water, I've only, just now, thought again of that most basic and essential question.
-The answer comes easy now. Maybe too easy and too much of an answer. But, by God, to find out, to see - to see a lake that has survived 2500 times longer than average, will reveal its strategy! To see if a trench that's deeper than Mt. Everest is tall, will share some wisdom! And, if an inland sea, sucking its life from 300 some rivers and swirling with a hurricane on one shore - while on the other an eagle, big enough to carry off a lamb - carves lazy circles over another shore -- might let a couple of wide eyed paddlers come away with their lives, and a healthy hint of fine, organic, "AWE."
+The answer comes easy now. Maybe too easy and too much of an answer. But, by God, to find out, to see - to see a lake that has survived 2500 times longer than average, will reveal its strategy! To see if a trench that's deeper than Mt. Everest is tall, will share some wisdom! And, if an inland sea, sucking its life from 300 some rivers and swirling with a hurricane on one shore - while on the other an eagle, big enough to carry off a lamb - carves lazy circles over another shore – might let a couple of wide eyed paddlers come away with their lives, and a healthy hint of fine, organic, "AWE."
-Why? Because where better to have a honeymoon than where a newlywed couple is at its best -- most comfortable, most natural state. Feasting on hot, fresh food, cooked over an open flame, on a different deserted beach lapped by blue/green waves under a fire colored sunset, after another day of muscle powered miles and memories. Where bills, advertisements, alarm clocks and career choices, give way to sunscreen, skinny dips, star gazing and surfing a cultural shockwave.
+Why? Because where better to have a honeymoon than where a newlywed couple is at its best – most comfortable, most natural state. Feasting on hot, fresh food, cooked over an open flame, on a different deserted beach lapped by blue/green waves under a fire colored sunset, after another day of muscle powered miles and memories. Where bills, advertisements, alarm clocks and career choices, give way to sunscreen, skinny dips, star gazing and surfing a cultural shockwave.
 Why paddle around Baikal?
@@ Line 845: / Line 867: @@
 Location: 40 miles north of Bolshoye Goloufpnoye
-\\
+----
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
-Saturday August 09, 2003
+==== Day 69 Saturday August 09, 2003 ====
 Around Baikal, Day 69 - August 8, 2003
-Another 40 miles, forty miles, and we would have been tucked away safe and sound in BG, gorging ourselves on piroshki’s, kartoshki’s and i-dunno-ski’s -- while Luba and her family listened eagerly to our stories, not understanding a word, but grinning and nodding and serving up the grub.
+Another 40 miles, forty miles, and we would have been tucked away safe and sound in BG, gorging ourselves on piroshki’s, kartoshki’s and i-dunno-ski’s – while Luba and her family listened eagerly to our stories, not understanding a word, but grinning and nodding and serving up the grub.
 It was that mere 40 miles - topped with the 40 campers who invaded our beach, late the night before last, that made the lake look so calm and inviting…before we took to paddling at 8 am the next morning.
-The air was thick with rain and gentle rolling waves passed beneath our boats -- as they so often do on this immense lake. A sign that somewhere on the lake, though surely not here, a blustery storm prevailed.
+The air was thick with rain and gentle rolling waves passed beneath our boats – as they so often do on this immense lake. A sign that somewhere on the lake, though surely not here, a blustery storm prevailed.
 Brandon and I rolled and bopped along for nearly two hours. Brandon merrily singing a tune, I, immersed in thoughts, when we noticed something strange. Rollers, big enough to swallow Brandon whole, were steadily coming from the north. But now whitecaps were hitting us head-on from the south. To top it off, wind was blasting us from all sides. Suddenly, a wall of white slammed into us at about 35 miles per hour. I laid my belly on my cockpit, gripped my paddle tight, kept the blades low and held on.
@@ Line 862: / Line 883: @@
 As soon as it let up, a stronger blast of white, foaming waves bombarded us. "See that opening in the rocks?" Brandon yelled, "We'll land there!" The landing was about 400 yards down the coast. We paddled and braced while the surf crashed angrily to shore. My muscles ached and my eyes were as big as saucers by the time we arrived in front of our spot.
-Brandon landed first -- a wave picked him up and he gracefully rode it to shore - a piece of cake -- my turn! My knees were shaking as I prepared to land. I turned the bow towards shore - SLAM! A furious blast of wind hit me broadside. I reached out my paddle to brace, just as the grand-daddy of all waves, a MONSTER, a boat-eating-beast, picked me up. My last memory before it slammed me face down in the surf was Brandon's voice, from far, far away, yelling, "RIDE IT BABY!"
+Brandon landed first – a wave picked him up and he gracefully rode it to shore - a piece of cake – my turn! My knees were shaking as I prepared to land. I turned the bow towards shore - SLAM! A furious blast of wind hit me broadside. I reached out my paddle to brace, just as the grand-daddy of all waves, a MONSTER, a boat-eating-beast, picked me up. My last memory before it slammed me face down in the surf was Brandon's voice, from far, far away, yelling, "RIDE IT BABY!"
 Thank goodness for dry suits, plastic boats and carabiners. Me and all my gear made it to shore in tact. Darn lucky considering the 63 mph reading we later clocked on our wind gauge. The feast at Luba's will have to wait, as the storm continues to gain strength, pinning us here, just 35 miles from BG.
@@ Line 868: / Line 889: @@
 Heather and Brandon
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+----
-Sunday August 10, 2003
+==== Day 71 Sunday August 10, 2003 Trip Completion ====
 Around Baikal, Day 71
@@ Line 880: / Line 901: @@
 Location: Bolshoye Goloustnoye
-\\
+----
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+<WRAP indent>
-Around Baikal 2003
+**Final Thoughts Around Baikal 2003**
-\\
 Thursday August 14, 2003
-Our last 4 days on Baikal crystalized the entire dynamic of the trip. Following our near-miss escape on day 68, we holed up for a day and watched the wind "fireworks" wreak havoc on the water from dawn 'til dark. The next morning we voted to punch out of the bay surrounding us, in hopes that it was a sort of climatic crazy-house, and just outside we'd find boundless calm. We were wrong...
+Our last 4 days on Baikal crystalized the entire dynamic of the trip. Following our near-miss escape on day 68, we holed up for a day and watched the wind "fireworks" wreak havoc on the water from dawn 'til dark. The next morning we voted to punch out of the bay surrounding us, in hopes that it was a sort of climatic crazy-house, and just outside we'd find boundless calm. We were wrong…
 "Steam-rollers" of violent, ripping wind and spray forced us to shore over and over, and gave us plenty of time and reason for some philisophical theorizing. Was Baikal simply presenting a final, intense gateway to test our resolve? Did He realize we'd been getting off too easy, and feel the need to balance the scales a bit? In the end we decided that, like a close friend who isn't quite ready to say goodbye, Baikal was just giving us something extra-special to remember him by. "Before you go," we could imagine him saying, "let me show you a few more things I can do!"
@@ Line 898: / Line 919: @@
 Heather and Brandon
-PS... Not quite 24 hours ago, we showed up at Jack's place in Irkutsk, completely un-announced. "We need a place to sleep," we said as we stepped in from the pouring rain and dropped our bags on his downtown apartment floor. "We need food, and we need to be on the next plane to California." A few phone calls later, inlcuding one to a mysterious "Uncle Pasha", and the long and short of it is that as we finish writing this final update, we're fed, rested, and on a plane to Moscow, then straight through to San Francisco...
+PS… Not quite 24 hours ago, we showed up at Jack's place in Irkutsk, completely un-announced. "We need a place to sleep," we said as we stepped in from the pouring rain and dropped our bags on his downtown apartment floor. "We need food, and we need to be on the next plane to California." A few phone calls later, inlcuding one to a mysterious "Uncle Pasha", and the long and short of it is that as we finish writing this final update, we're fed, rested, and on a plane to Moscow, then straight through to San Francisco…
 By now, I suppose, nothing should come as a surprise!
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
+</WRAP>
+{{  :adventure:baikal:beach_nap.jpeg?direct&288x192  |beach_nap.jpeg}}
+photo: the Nelsons
+----
+</WRAP>
+<WRAP centeralign>
+[[:stories:nelsons_lake_baikal_2003#lake_baikal_circumnavigation_2003|Back to Page Top]]
 </WRAP>

Surfski Knowledge Base

User Tools

Site Tools

Differences

Page Tools