OCTOBRE -> DECEMBRE 2000
December 2000 : This Time I've Made It... My Project Of Leading Two Reindeer Across The Vastness
of the Tundra has finally come to fruition.
But as I left the village of Oma, I must admit that I felt more anxiety than satisfaction. The recollection of my sledge going off in the night with only two impulsive reindeer to guide it was still too fresh in my memory to enable me to enjoy myself.
The headrope of the leading reindeer was biting into my wrist because I was afraid of repeating my mistake by letting go of it. I've hardly had time to be introduced to my two new travelling companions. Bought from the kolkhoz, they were brought to me by two drunken breeders and I was unable to glean any information about them, not even which of them was the leader. As for the harnesses, it was only on the morning of my departure that I was able to get any. The breeders certainly needed money but they were not prepared to relinquish their work equipment, more valuable in their eyes than a thousand roubles.
I recognise that it's a little crazy to set off on the journey without having fully mastered the driving techniques. I like adventure providing the proper preparations have been made. We had barely left the village when one of the reindeer got excited, turned back on itself and got tangled up in the lines. The two reindeer got stuck antler to antler and were violently kicking the Arktika sledge with their hooves. I needed considerable sang-froid to sort out the harnessing and set off again, telling myself that it was going to be a question of sport!
I was walking along a track that was barely perceptible. A few two-week-old traces of sledge runners. The words of the director of the Oma kolkhoz came back to me, as did those of the two breeders: "You won't get far with reindeer. As soon as they're hungry, they'll refuse to budge. You'll have to change them every two or three weeks."
I'm carrying a bag of vitamin-enriched feed and I have planned to attach them with a 30-metre rope at the camp so that they can nibble the lichen of the tundra. Nevertheless, I know that that will not be enough because they have to graze over wide-open expanses. It was in this frame of mind that I stopped at nightfall for my first camp with the reindeer. But in the morning, one of the reindeer refused to let me come near it, kicking all the time, charging at me and rearing up on its hind legs in an attempt to box me with its front hooves. Having regained its natural habitat, it had also regained its wild animal instincts. The fight to show it that I was in charge was to last three hours. After some violent hand-to-hand fighting, I tried to lay it on the ground by grasping it by its antlers until one of us gave in! It finally started to become breathless and I finally managed to get its halter and harness on it. It was entirely evident that these reindeer had never been coupled to a sledge. This was an additional difficulty that I could well have done without. This crude training session over, I could finally set off again, but when we were descending an incline one harness gave way and then a second a few kilometres further on. The leather was old and worthless. I improvised some makeshift repairs at -32°C, as always in the half-light. I could no longer even imagine walking in bright sunlight. Bad news for my goggles sponsors.
Doing about 15km a day leading my reindeer, I realise that I'm not making much better progress than when pulling the sledge myself. The reindeer cause extra work when we camp and my alarm clock is currently set to 06.00 with a view to setting off at 09.30.
The snow is currently deeper and I have to put my skis on. Crossing rivers is always an adventure within an adventure. Today's overcast weather eliminated all contrast. The crossing seemed easy but we suddenly found ourselves in thin air and stranded in a snow-filled ravine. The sledge did a lovely somersault, fortunately without getting broken. In snow up to the waist, I tried to find a way out of this mishap. The reindeer only have to be able to get a grip with their front legs to be able to pull the sledge out of the chasm.
The storm has raged all night long and when the alarm went off the wind was still violent. So I decided to spend New Year's Eve in this spot, allowing myself a day's rest to mark the occasion. When finally I consented to put my nose outside, a crimson sun greeted me and the wind had stopped. It was a veritable discovery: the landscape finally seemed beautiful to me in this light. Over-preoccupied with the way ahead and avoiding hazards, my mind is never free for contemplation. The year is over, and the month of December as well. For me that means a little more light each day, legs a little longer and therefore greater daily distances. Because of the late winter, my programme is a month late. Nar'yan Mar is 300km away and Noril'sk, the end of my winter itinerary, is still some 2,000 km away!
I'll have time to worry about that later. For the time being, I have to prepare for the next leg to Kotkino: 150km to cover entirely on my own in the forest and along a torrent with a tumultuous reputation. Will the ice be strong enough? Will the snow be too deep for the reindeer to walk? What do the many river crossings have in store for me?
Our Father Christmas Among The Nenets
It is now one week that Gilles has been staying with the Nenet people who lead their nomadic lives in summer between the north of the Kanin Peninsula and the Nyes region in winter. Adaptation is not always easy: "One cannot improvise as a breeder, experience is indispensable and life is hard". Gilles is getting ready to transform himself into a genuine Father Christmas by preparing his journey in a sleigh with reindeer. Our last camp was near a tiny forest surrounded by the great tundra. The women liked the spot, because there was running icy water and we were able to stock up with wood. The camp was moved every third day and the lack of snow made progress difficult. I was staying with Nadia and Alexeï, a Nenet couple who shared the community with six other families: 20 people in total, plus 15 dogs and 2,000 reindeer, 500 of which were castrated males used for pulling sledges. The camp is made up of five tents with prefabricated walls and a canvas roof. There is only one Tchoum (traditional habitation) in the region.
Our schedule is pretty packed. Each morning a breeder goes off with a sledge to find the large herd and bring back some 300 animals that are then corralled together. The men go into the middle of the herd and decide the programme for the day. The women rope off the corral. The reindeer that are going to be harnessed for the day's work are then chosen and the rest are set free. There is reindeer meat for breakfast. Then the programme is carried out: move the camp, cut wood in the forest, visit neighbouring colonies to round up strayed reindeer. Each family works independently. Dinner is at about 16.00.
Since my arrival in the colony, I have helped the breeders with their work. I have had to learn fast, because the Nenets are very busy in winter. One cannot improvise as a breeder, experience is indispensable and life for these people is hard.
On the third day, I go off on my own with a two-reindeer sledge. I accompany the breeders to the large herd. The terrain is extremely chaotic, but the sledges are well suited to it. At this time of the year there is a faint luminosity between 11.00 and 14.00, and for the rest of the time it is the polar night. I always ask myself the same question: how can they find the herd in the middle of the tundra in the half-light without for me any visible landmarks? I'm getting to speak Russian more and more and we understand each other perfectly.
I shall be leaving for Nar'yan Mar as soon as the necessary equipment has been assembled. If I decide to leave with reindeer, I could have problems, because according to Alexeï and Nadia they would have to be changed every week, as they soon become exhausted when they are not grazing. For that, I would have to find other camps on the way, which is extremely difficult as the Nenets are not at all numerous. This is also the difficulty of my expedition: I want to live on the ground without any special resupply and without external help with travel and logistics. I have to organise everything on my own in the great disadvantaged North … what a country! What hard work! Days on end walking at a snail's pace.
Since leaving Mezen', Gilles can hardly boast about making good progress. Only 113km on the clock and at the moment Noril'sk seems a long, long way away. "Days on end walking at a snail's pace. 4 hours of effort every day to get only 8km from where I started in the morning. Twice I've had to go through water up to my knees. The sky is desperately overcast and the wind is blowing all the time. What a country! What hard work! We're not far from the gulag, a voluntary one. I have to make such a sustained effort all day long that I don't have time to think, just to pull, without ever letting up for fear of seeing the sledge stop and get stuck in the snow.
After the humidity and mildness of the earlier days, today's -25°C have given it the consistency and slipperiness of sand. 01.30 - brushing the tent and my clothes and there I am, ready for combat with my two stoves that give me trouble each evening. Drying ones things becomes a luxury. I'm already well satisfied when I manage to cook my ration of pemmican.
Who knows whether I shall soon be having to dine on dog biscuits? It is 21.00 when I blow out the candle that has raised the temperature in the tent to -10°C. This ambient mildness quickly makes me drowsy and generally I sleep right through until 6 o'clock in the morning when the alarm clock heralds a new day's work.
News of the last few days: a filling is lost in some frozen dried fruit, the sledge's side panel support is broken and I have a violent pain in the knee that reminds me that my bones have lost their youth after 40 years of vagrancy.
The lake is indeed only 2km away but a forest that is impassable with a semi-trailer is in the way. It is going to take me a day's reconnaissance to find a way through. Finally, I see the salvation of some isbas, but my hopes are soon dashed. The first isba is in ruins and the other two are padlocked. After dreaming of the smell of a lovely log fire under a roof, I categorically refuse to put up the tent. For want of a big kitchen range, I shall make do with the roof of a cabin lobby and a night of -20°C under the favourable auspices of a magnificent aurora borealis just a few kilometres from the polar circle.
The track in the direction of Nyes is good and I run, no I fly before the squalls of a "mietel", a blizzard. 18 km in 5 hours of walking, finally a record which is not one for slowness. I cross the polar circle line for the second time since leaving Norway and enter the independent territory of the Nenets. To say that from the outset the village appeared welcoming would be an exaggeration, however during my stay each person made it a point of honour to make my life agreeable. For want of a hotel, Vostok and I were accommodated in an office of the kolkhoz and fed in the school canteen. Some mechanics took care of the repairs to my sledge and I was entitled to my fist bania for a fortnight.
Even though the shop had only one oil lamp - without glass and without oil - I was lucky enough to leave with a roll of lavatory paper, two boxes of matches, a kilo of sugar and some tea. It is raining this morning and the thermometer is in the black! The village is melting in the middle of the month of December, and I'm getting a little desperate for the continuation of my journey. Noril'sk, more than 2,300km away and the end of my second leg, seems more distant than ever. Will the reindeer come to my rescue?"
Before setting off to conquer the Russian Arctic, Gilles has already covered the whole world, and in particular that marvellous country, Mongolia.
From his three journeys, by bicycle, on foot, and on camel- and horseback, he has brought back 14,000 pictures and has selected the best 125 of them for publishing a photo album.
Set out on a discovery of the wide open spaces by treating yourself to a talented photographer's intimate look at the life of the nomads in the steppes. The book cost FRF195 (plus p&p).
On order from our office address: Columbia River/Arctic 34, Ave. des Ellipses 75008 ParisTel : 01 56 43 41 10, fax : 01 56 43 41 12 e-mail : arktika@wanadoo.fr
e-mail : arktika@wanadoo.fr
|
Elkaim On The Road To Cemja
The beginning of the leg was difficult. Pulling a 140-kg sledge, Gilles had his first surprise on the second day of the journey: a sudden thaw with rain on the agenda!
"2nd Day" - I started to pull the sledge over the snowless tundra, which was absolutely exhausting. The next day, it froze.
3rd Day - Fuel problem. The stove only works for five minutes at a time. It took me two hours to prepare the meal. Impossible to dry my things.
4th Day - I came close to the village of Cemja, but a sheer drop prevented me from going directly to it. I had to make a 3-kilometre detour. Finally, I received a welcome commensurate with my efforts on the track. Two families are living here from hunting and fishing, in total simplicity, cut off from the outside world.
The sky is heavy and grey. Blocks of black pack ice are congested at the foot of the cliffs. I can see in the distance Cape Maslyany, that I passed last summer. I am still astonished at having survived that dangerous passage. This autumn a smack was caught in the whirlpools. Parents and children drowned. To the north, it's the great unknown and the Kanin Peninsula. If the ends of the earth are anywhere, they're here. The village abandoned by its inhabitants adds further mystery to the place. My dog, who is now called Vostok, is very well-behaved, but he tires quickly when travelling. He is beginning to know my habits and is waiting for the end of the leg with impatience".
November 2000 : Setting Off On The Second Leg
After a final equipment check, Gilles set off today, Friday 24 November, to start the second stage of his expedition: a long, 7-month winter on skis and reindeer sledge as far as Noril'sk. In all, more than 2,000 kilometres away from civilisation in the extreme cold in the course of the polar night.
The first trial of this winter odyssey consists of reaching Nar'yan Mar (about 500km to the north-east of Mezen'). Gilles had to delay his departure, as winter had arrived late this year, and the instability of the ice would be a matter of constant anxiety for him.
Progress is going to be hard, especially for the first 100 kilometres. His body is going to have to adapt to the cold and he will have to proceed with the utmost caution, for the swamps and rivers have only just frozen. On the eve of his departure for the vastnesses of the Great Eurasian North, Gilles confided in us: "I have no illusions about it, this journey in the polar night will be extremely difficult. I will have to fight against both the elements and the duration, keeping in mind that I'm setting off for a long, 8-month marathon on my own. But the idea of confronting this wild nature during its most arduous months excites me to the utmost. It's only there that I feel my existence as a human being. So I have no hesitation about the way ahead. I love these challenges where concentration is extreme. I love the trail when the solo adventurer cannot afford any mistakes.
I love the rest after the effort when body and soul are finally at peace. I love the silence in the tent, when one feels close to the spirits of nature. I love imagining that I'm slowly making my mark on this planet. With only the strength of my body and my mind I pass by, leaving only a furrow behind me that is quickly obliterated by wave or snow."
Oh For The Great Cold!
In less than a week, weather permitting, the second stage of the Arktika Expedition will be under way. The first trial of this winter odyssey consists of reaching Nar'yan Mar, located at about 500km to the north-east of Mezen.
But the winter is late in taking hold and the temperatures are varying between -3°C and 0°C. This unaccustomed mildness for the time of year risks being a matter of concern for Gilles on his journey. The instability of the ice in the middle of the polar night will be a matter of constant anxiety for him.
Gilles regularly calls his Russian friends at Mezen' to ask them about the weather forecasts and about his good, 4-month-old dog Laïka, who has no inkling of the fine adventure in store for him.
After a meeting with the Minister of the Interior, the problem of obtaining a licence to carry a hunting gun was solved. What a relief for Gilles finally to receive his rifle, which will allow him to vary his menu and take care of his safety with regard to wolves and polar bears.
