Even in tempest, Siberian lake is a jewel

SOUTHBOUND ON LAKE BAIKAL, Siberia | Though mainly celebrated for its beauty, this jewel of Siberia also commands respect for the frequent mighty gales that can whip along its 400-mile length in any season.

The winds have names, often taken from the topographic features down which they rage — river valleys, and the canyons of mountains rimming the chasm that contains the lake.

At their worst, they can howl at 40 to 50 meters per second — 90 to 110 miles an hour — and create waves as much as 20 feet high.

The one we met today may have been the one called the Kultuk, a lesser storm, but exciting enough.

The day began with banks of low clouds gathering in the southwest, and for much of the morning we progressed uneventfully, the boat nosing through a mild chop.

By the time we gathered for lunch in early afternoon, the wind had freshened greatly. Rain was falling in blinding, horizontal sheets, and the boat’s pitching was much increased.

Borne up on waves that Victor estimated at between 2 and 3 meters, or more than 6 to nearly 10 feet, it would slam down in the following trough with a thunderous jolt. Water cascaded over the bow and the forward window of the galley.

Standing or walking was a challenge. To venture out onto the deck was unthinkable.

Fortunately, the Yaroslavits is a stout, steel-hulled craft. But in the name of comfort, if not caution, the crewman at the wheel reversed course to run with the southwest wind and the waves, not against them.

We all sat tight in the galley area, waiting for the storm to ease, as presently it did.

It was discovered later that a porthole in Victor’s compartment, not securely latched, had swung open and admitted spray that doused his sleeping bag. But apart from that there was no damage.

The sky began gradually to clear, the tumultuous clouds breaking away and sliding down to make a frame above the mountain peaks.

And as we rounded the tip of a peninsula that blocked the wind entirely, we glided on a surface smooth as glass to our anchorage once again in the Bay of Snakes, the very place we’d left that morning.

The evening was spectacular, with clouds lighted from below by the setting sun, and ranks of mountain ridges, one after another, receding in shades of forest green, purple and blue.

Our retreat from the tempest meant that we would return to Victor’s rescue base near the mouth of the Angara River and to the city of Irkutsk a day later than originally planned.

But I don’t for a moment consider that a day lost.

Irrespective of the schedule, an extra day spent on the world’s most beautiful lake is by any reckoning a bit of luck, a day gained.

From here: http://www.kansascity.com/2010/09/11/2216328/even-in-tempest-siberian-lake.html