July 01, 2010

Kayaking in Karelia

We have a tradition: each year we go on an expedition with our friends.

Imagine if you will a group of friends setting out to spend two weeks of their annual vacation in nature, far from civilization (and far from showers, though there is plenty of cold river water), with songs around a campfire, mushroom and berry picking, fishing, living in tents and boats, shooting rapids. The tradition stems from a 30-year-long friendship between six schoolmates. But of course things have changed over time. At first, our trips were more strenuous. But with time and the arrival of children, grandchildren, success in careers and a few grey hairs, the trips have become more recreational.

In the 1980s, our tents were crafted from simple tarps, our boats were homemade canoes (using the carcasses of two- or three-person kayaks) or catamarans (an invention of Soviet tourism of the 1960s and 1980s: two long, inflatable cylinders bound together by a frame, with places for four rowers, who paddled as if they were in a canoe).

Over three decades, our excursions have taken us the Urals, the Altai, the Caucasus, Central Asia, Sayana, beyond the Arctic Circle to the Kola Peninsula, to Arkhangelsk, Vologda and Novgorod regions. But most frequently we travel to the northern republic of Karelia – an exceptional nature preserve just a day’s train ride from Moscow or St. Petersburg. There are countless lakes, rivers and streams, which either flow into the pristine White Sea or into Lakes Onega or Ladoga – Europe’s largest freshwater lakes.

The landscape, climate and nature of Karelia is exceptional. Forty thousand years ago a glacier passed through this region, leaving behind huge boulders along the banks of unspoiled lakes and low mountains formed from large rock strata. There are said to be more than 60,000 lakes and 27,000 rivers in Karelia, and the region is so sparsely populated that lovers of wild nature can easily spend a month on Karelia’s waterways and never see any sign of civilization.

Karelia’s forests are coniferous (pine and spruce) or mixed deciduous (birch and alder) rich in mushrooms and berries (bilberries, cloudberries), and the rivers teem with fish (perch, pike, mountain trout, grayling; in some rivers there is even licensed fishing for salmon). In the summer, the region is lit by White Nights — at midnight in the middle of July you can warm yourself in the northern sunlight. Thus does the comparatively cold summer of Karelia leave behind feelings of warmth and a visible tan.

In its most forested and lake-filled regions, Karelia is free of industrial enterprises and nature is clean, untouched and marked by the stark, primordial beauty of the North, which differs so markedly from the sumptuous and vivid nature of the South. A sharp-sloped stone island in the middle of a lake, topped with a pine grove, all reflected in the still, pure water – this is a typical Karelian sight.

Yet the Karelian mosquitos are also rather famous. They are particularly bothersome near swamplands, but if you can get to a high, windswept river bank, you can leave the bloodsucking insects behind.

Last year we decided to float down the river Keret, which flows out of Lake Keret in Northern Karelia, then cuts a path, through a series of lakes, to Chupsky Inlet in the Gulf of Kandalaksha. There are some 30 rapids on the river, separated by lakes and reaches, giving the river a Class III rating according to the Russian classification system.* In all, it was a 110-kilometer voyage. The itinerary is rather popular among Russian water-tourists, given the river’s easy approach and the unusual satisfaction of rowing to the sea.

our route began at the Loukhi train station on the Moscow-Murmansk line. Loukhi is a small settlement which is named for an evil old woman in the Kalevala – the Finnish epic poem. The main industry of this town of five thousand souls along the railroad line is forestry, meaning wood, berries and fishing. Several interesting itineraries begin in Loukhi, along the lakes Petriyarvi, Keret and others, along the rivers Keret and Pistayoki. Therefore, in summer the town is overrun with legions of tourists, with their kayaks, canoes, catamarans and rafts.

Lake Plotichnoye is just a half hour away by bus. We are deposited in a large field alongside the lake and start to assemble our catamarans, blowing up the floats with pumps, assembling the frames out of metal poles and fastening them to the floats. Then we stretch the deck between the rails of the frame, using netting to tie down our things. Anything in waterproof bags and backpacks is carried on the catamarans.

Four hours after arriving at the lake’s edge, we take our places: 38 people and two dogs on 6 catamarans, plus two kayaks, in which we will take turns paddling.

Day 1

Our first day on the water is spent on Lake Plotichnoye, with camping on Reutushuarvi Island. Plotichnoye is a narrow lake with a jagged coastline and two huge islands. On the left bank is the deserted village of Parfeyevo: wooden homes, blackened and atilt. Lots of Russian villages have emptied out over the last two to three decades. People go where there is work, whether it is in forestry or in a fish factory, where there are permanent stores, hospitals and pharmacies. With each passing year, fishing and hunting villages are steadily losing their inhabitants.

The weather is cold, windy and the water is frigid. But everyone is happy and upbeat – we have been waiting a year for this. I am in a kayak and can quickly and happily fly ahead in my orange vessel, easily overtaking the large, slow-moving catamarans. Three hours of paddling and we reach the island. Awaiting us is a huge bounty of mushrooms, ready for the picking: podosinoviki (orange-capped boletus) and maslyati (yellow capped boletus). Tonight there will be mushroom soup and sauteed mushrooms!

The first priority is setting up the tents and getting a cookfire going. We have so far caught few fish – just four small pike, meaning just a small bite for each person, but there is also macaroni and meat, cheese and tea. And there are cloudberries in the forest, as many as you can eat! We enjoy ourselves, squatting before little berry bushes, picking and eating, picking and eating. I would really like to sing tonight, but our musician is sick with a cold. There will be no singing around the campfire tonight.

Day 2

The next day at a late breakfast our 17-year-old American guest, a relative of one of the expedition’s founders, is dumbstruck by the semolina kasha cooked over the fire, something he has never had before. Russia is awash in all sorts of kasha, and even Russians don’t know the origins of all these kashas: mannaya (semolina), perlovaya (barley), pshenichnaya (wheat) and pshennaya (millet). A lecture on kasha occupies the entire breakfast, but after coffee we head out to break down the tents and pack up. Back to paddling.

Today we will see our first rapids – Krivoy (“Crooked”) is a simple, 300-meter-long bend in the river with a rapid flow and small, standing waves, due to a narrowing of the river. Everyone is excited, happy and a bit wet, despite the low clouds and spitting rain. It’s best for the kayakers – these waves are actually whitewater to them, and not just splashes, like they are for everyone else. Still, the first successful run puts everyone in high spirits.

The next lake, Petriyarvi, is beyond the rapids. It is long with small islands, and we cross it in the rain, with the kayaks in tow. It is our first full day of paddling, and we are no longer mathematicians, doctors, journalists or business people, but simply explorers and fishermen sculling to where our path takes us. We wander the lake for six hours and near on nine o’clock at night – which looks like nothing of the sort, what with White Nights – we decide to snack on meat and cheese sandwiches with tea. It is about time we found a campsite; both children and grownups are tired and want to eat. But the fish aren’t biting on Lake Petriyarvi, the banks of the rivers are swamplands filled with mosquitos, flies and midges, so we have to paddle on.

The kayakers take a radio and go on ahead to scout the Shchelovy Rapids, beyond which lies a lake with high stone cliffs, sandy pine beaches and no mosquitoes. The rapids are 400 meters long, rocky, with a two-meter descent over its course. The kayakers soon report by radio that the rapids were easily run, and that there is an excellent campground on the lake. We pack up our half-eaten sandwiches and within 10 minutes have all safely traversed the rapids, bouncing happily through the high waves and into the lake.

It is almost 11 o’clock, but completely light, yet far from hot. Suddenly there is a torrential downpour, and everywhere we look is a shade of grey. We are only able to find the kayakers thanks to the radios, as the banks of the river are completely invisible. At midnight, soaked to the skin despite our “waterproof” outfits, we paddle up to the campground.

It is an excellent spot, but the rain just keeps coming and it is getting increasingly colder. Yet everyone, except for the very tired children, is in a really great mood. What fun would it be without difficulties and hardships? They are what we will reminisce about back in warm Moscow. The children are fed and packed off to bed in warm tents, and we pass the early morning hours over a late dinner with wine, conversation and jokes.

It should be noted that the catamarans we use were invented in the 1970s by Sergei Papush, who is now the head coach of the Russian canoe/kayak slalom team. In the 1970s and 1980s, some of the former USSR’s most difficult rivers – the Sari-Dhaz, Chulyshman, Bashkaus, Muksu and other Class IV rivers – were first run in catamarans such as these. They are safe, difficult to capsize vessels and to this day are perhaps the most popular mode of travel for Russian hydro-tourists. On interesting, not difficult waters – in the company of six or seven close friends and their children, spending the day paddling amid beautiful nature and enjoying long conversations — it really does not get any better.

Day 3

The next day we go nowhere. We clean up and rest after yesterday’s long trek, read, gather mushrooms and berries and play guessing games. Mafia* is really popular and it’s easy to get the necessary 16 people from our 40. There are also literary mascarades, associations and charades. All day tourists float by our camp, calling out “Greetings from Petersburg… Saratov… Ivanovo… Ryazan...” “Greetings from Moscow,” we reply.

Day 4

The next day we run the Murash Rapids – the first of the serious rapids we have been promised on this river, but which turn out to be no big deal. It is a day of excellent fishing: three pike and twenty perch, chub, grayling and roach. We row for six hours through lakes and rapids. We play games, laugh and sing, and make camp on an island in Lake Nizhnyaya Lamba.

Day 5

Today is another day of rest, and we make authentic blinchiki with cloudberries. The preparation is an event unto itself: a special campfire (not hot, but even-burning), two pans, two kilos of bliny flour (a mix of flour, yeast, dried milk and powdered eggs; just add water) brought from Moscow, and an hour and a half to cook 120 cakes – 3 per person.

Day 6

Today we traverse Lake Nyukki and the Maslyany and Krivoy-2 Rapids. Just a few small obstacles and we find ourselves before the most difficult rapids on the Keret: Varatsky. It is a clear, sunny day and we paddle up to them and see tall cliffs on the left, after which the river turns and falls out of sight. We therefore cannot judge the best route to take through the rapids, so all the catamarans come to a stop in order to plot our best trajectory. But one catamaran does not stop, deciding to careen through the rapids without a preview. It ends up on the rocks. After several attempts to get free, they succeed and the catamaran proceeds left of the island, to the right of the rocks in the center of the flow. Everyone is a bit agitated, but the kayaks and the rest of the catamarans breeze through, flying through the high waves.

Beyond the rapids is Lake Varatskoye, which has lots of beautiful high islands. We spend the rest of the day here, relaxing and fishing, reading and playing games, collecting mushrooms.

Day 7

In the days that follow, the lakes are smaller and the rapids larger. Pavlovsky and Krasnobystry fly by like joyful sprays of champagne. It has gotten warmer, and the kayakers have been tying up to the catamarans, only cutting loose from time to time to play in the waves.

The river’s fall is more noticeable here, but we are disappointed that we have yet to catch a salmon. Downriver, in the village of Keret, the locals explain that over the past two to three years there has been a steady decline in spawning runs. They attribute it to changes in the climate and the introduction of higher quotas for catching fish at sea. Meanwhile, pike, perch and trout are on our daily menu.

The last rapids are the wonderful Morskoy Rapids that are the outlet to the sea. It is a kilometer-and-a-half-long ride with waves and a significant drop (15 meters per kilometer). It is best to descend it during high tide. We bounce to our heart’s content here, crashing over the waves and getting soaked from head to toe as the waves swamp us, and then we are in the sea. The White Sea. The iodine smell of seaweed is unmistakeable.

Keret

The village of Keret is situated directly on the Morskoy Rapids; it is one of the oldest inhabited places in Karelia. It appeared at the end of the fifteenth and start of the sixteenth century. Its name derives from the Saama word “keret/kerezhka,” which is their word for their boat-shaped sleds. Today Keret is half deserted. The residents either fish in the river (for salmon) or the sea (for cod), gather mushrooms and berries, or work in forestry. The village has the appearance of a series of wooden buildings darkened by time, scattered about on low hills. Every yard contains that most necessary of possessions: a motorboat.

It is said that the patron saint of northern sailors, St. Varlaam, was born in Keret. Educated and serving as a priest in the town of Kola, Varlaam was deceived by an unbeliever’s false accusations of Varlaam’s wife’s infidelity. He murdered her and, beset by guilt, quit the priesthood and set out into the open sea in a small rowboat, determined to row until his wife’s remains turned to ash. He wandered amid the waves of the Barents and White Seas, surrendering his fate to the will of God. He was often sighted by Norwegian and Russian sailors, who were amazed that his hands never left the oars of his boat, no matter how horrible the weather. Today his remains are buried near the altar of the Church of St. George in Keret.

There have been many reported instances of St. Varlaam’s intercession, when sailors in the midst of misfortune at sea have seen him appear before them, and it has given them strength and helped them to endure a storm. What is more, St. Varlaam always identifies himself and implores those he aids to go to Keret and offer prayers of thanksgiving for their rescue. Over time, the sea-going folk of the region became absolutely certain that St. Varlaam — who well knew what the northern seas were like and how scary it can be for sailors in trouble at sea — cannot refuse aid to those who ask, but will intercede and save them.

The village was also famous in relation to pearls. At the time of Ivan the Terrible, pearls that had gone dull were “freshened” in the river Keret (thanks to the river’s high alkalinity). According to legend, the tsar’s pearls were worn by the prettiest girl in the village, who would then bathe in the Keret for 101 nights, after which the pearls would be like new. Legend also had it that a rich merchant from Keret once gave Tsarina Elizabeth Petrovna a black pearl necklace from the river Keret, for which the elder of Keret was given the unique privilege of not having to doff his hat before the tsar’s representative.

One of the town’s most famous sons was Matvey Korguyev. A simple farmhand, he became renowned among sailors and visitors for his vast store of folk tales. In the 1930s he went on to become a member of the Union of Writers and was selected to the Supreme Soviet of the Karelo-Finnish Republic. Noted folklorist Alexander Nechayev recorded 115 tales from Korguyev and collected them into one volume – one of the single largest folktale collections ever collected from one individual.

The Sea

The Kandalaksha Bay of the White Sea is distinguished by its extreme tides, with a tidal range of 2-3 meters between high and low tides. Twice each day the waters ebb to reveal naked coastline, littered with seaweed, shells, crabs, muscles and starfish. The White Sea is rich in wildlife, by some estimates 50 percent more so than Russia’s southernmost Black Sea.

We must pass through the bay’s beautiful and narrow Chupsky Inlet to the village of Chkalovsky, from where we will take a bus back to the Loukhi train station. But first a day of paddling through the White Sea awaits us. We pass islands, inhale the scent of seaweed and the weather is glorious.

Not far from the village of Chkalovsky is the island of Oleny, which has a fresh water source. Previously, there was a mica and muscovite mine here. But now the quarry has become a beautiful, deep lake with high banks. Oleny Island is extremely beautiful: cliffs, bays, bluffs, a lake and fantastic mussels, exposed by low tide.

Our final day is spent languishing about, soaking up the sun and sea. At night, for the first time during the entire expedition, we see the moon.

Summer is coming to a close, and so is our trip. RL

July 01, 2010

Kayaking in Karelia

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