JANUARY - APRIL 2001
Gilles and the 17 Nenets (April 6th 2001)
Barents Sea, 68°49'N 58°03'E ; 3,000km from the North Cape; more than 7,000 km to the Pacific
Arrived at Old Varandeï where a few Nenets live forgotten by the outside world, Gilles finds himself the owner of two more dogs. He starts training his new team, made up of odds and ends, that very day. Gilles makes the acquaintance of Taras, who would like to cover some of the way with him.
One can hardly call Old Varandeï a village: there's no shop, no administration, no school, not even any electricity. 17 irreducible Nenets live here. They refused to leave their houses to be shut up in the apartments they were offered at Nar'yan Mar by the oil company based only 5km away.
"Good heavens, my life is here!", Alexeï said to me. We were on the pack ice, near to some huge, chaotic ice with the sun setting on the horizon, which made his words all the more poignant.
Alexeï has spread the word about my plans for sledge dogs. I now have three. An old 4-year-old transient answering to the name of Bars, which suited him in view of his sinister-looking mouth. However, Bars was rather timid and affectionate. Another sensitive soul! As for Pushok, the young hairy 1-year-old, he seemed to have things on his mind other than hauling a sledge across the icy desert. The third is of course my faithful Sokol.
All that has to be done is to transform this motley bunch into sledge dogs. It is something for me to get to work on this very day. The first hour's training is discouraging. Only Bars pulls the sledge, while his two companions are dragged along in the snow, screaming with fright.
After some comings and goings, Sokol twigged, and even took delight in pulling. Pushok in turn went at it, but visibly without much pleasure. This team is made up of odds and ends. With no more ropes or straps, each piece of string recovered from hither and thither is of inestimable value in my eyes.
I spent the night at the house of Taras, who lives with his mother in an old house well guarded by his six sledge dogs. He is a sculptor, a painter, a designer and inevitably a fisherman, a hunter and a trapper.
On the morning of my departure for the oil station, I make an off-the-cuff comment to him; "Come and see the countryside with me!". He thinks for a moment and then says to me: "When do we leave? What should I bring? My axe? My gun? A couple of knives?" In a quarter of an hour his belongings are ready. This time it's I who am caught unawares.
To give myself time to think, I suggest that I show him my itinerary and the difficulties of a journey of this kind. But his mind is made up and even his mother is unable to dissuade him.
So be it! We are free men and there is no point in making any commitments to each other. If our paths cross for a while, so much the better. When they have to diverge, we'll have to accept that as well …
I'm leaving the village for a few days to go to the oil station at New Varandeï, leaving Bars and Pushok in the capable hands of Taras.
April 1st : 3 000 km from the North Cape
300km covered since Nar'yan Mar. Gilles has the impression that he is "living in a freezer". The thermometer is narrowly missing -40°C and to that you must add the virtually permanent wind and the air humidity. And when the wind is against you, walking soon becomes hell on earth …
" Protected by my wolverine-fur chapka, my mask and my reindeer-skin mittens, I still despite everything suffer from the cold that shrivels my face. The spring sun has however arrived to warm the atmosphere but you must be wary of it and never take your glasses off for fear of finding yourself blinded for several days by some extremely painful snowblindness.
With my gaze anchored on the compass on my ski, I am determined not to deviate from my heading. Nothing simpler in this land of the Arctic Coast, where nothing comes into view other than the gigantic chaos of the pack ice. Difficult even to make out the line of the coast as the tundra here is so flat. Am I on sea or on land? Only the quality and depth of the snow can inform me of my situation. Sometimes, when the fog gets thicker, I seem to be floating on air. The open sea is no more than a dozen kilometres away and the surge of the North Atlantic arrives to torture the pack ice of the Barents Sea and make it even more menacing by forming heavy clouds that give the horizon a sinister look.
Sokol is my new travelling companion. He frolics far in front of me and returns regularly to the sledge. Arriving at the village of Tchiornaya after a difficult leg, I spotted him immediately, a superb Laïka from Nouvelle-Zemble. Having recounted the loss of Vostok to his master, with whom I stayed the night, Viktor spontaneously offered him to me. But then in the morning there was no further question about it, and when I left the village, the dog stuck close to my heels. I must say that he had taken a crazy delight, the previous evening, in stealing one of my skis and cutting a fastening strap, opening the tarpaulin of the sledge and getting out the gun and the distress beacon, taking it out of its cover, but happily without discovering the firing pin!
3,000km covered in eight months of effective travelling; far from being a record, certainly, but I'm proud of it. The slowness is justified in my view by the richness of the journey. 3,000km of deserted, wild shores, of fjords, of mountains and sea, of forests and dunes, of rivers and bays, of marshlands, of frozen lakes, of tundra and of pack ice, but also of sun and rain, of wind and tides, of snow and blizzards, or again of birds and seals, of beluga and reindeer, of dogs and finally of Man. Finally, the world seen from the top of the Arctic is not as ugly as people would have us believe. It would even, in my eyes, be attractive."
19 March 2001 Barents Sea : T° -30° / 2864km from the North Cape
Gilles is regaining his strength in a fishermen's isba at Cape Alexeïevka, where once again he was brought to a halt by a furious wind and a temperature of -30° below zero. After a few, rare encounters along the pack ice of the Barents Sea, he is on his own again. Gilles reached us by telephone yesterday. "I'm about 6 days from the Russian oil station. The wind is blowing all the time and it is cold. Sliding is difficult. I sometimes get the impression that the sledge weighs a ton. Luckily, I've been able to get to this isba. I've been a little unwell, probably food poisoning. It's a bad period for blizzards. I'll get going again tomorrow."
Here are some accounts of Gilles's encounters: "Here I am again on the shores of the Barents Sea, which I left three months earlier for a trip across the marshland, tundra and forest. The pack ice seems to stretch for ever with its chaotic ice, yet the open sea is no more than 50km away."
"I was still in the estuary of the River Petchora, getting ready to put up the tent, when the light of a snowmobile suddenly appeared on the horizon and its driver, after joining me, proposed to put me up in his brother's isba, some 4km away. Leonid and Jacob, his neighbour, had simply opened their doors to me and offered me this welcome that is so characteristic of the people of the North. Leonid and Jacob are fishermen who live the whole year round in their respective isbas. But on the occasion of Women's Day, 08 March, Leonid heated the bania (bath) and Jacob joined him in celebrating the event, even though there was no woman within a hundred miles in any direction. In Russia, every public holiday is taken very seriously, and the one in honour of women lasts three days. It is the occasion for a meal, a good meal, but above all an opportunity for having a drink without having a guilty conscience. My hosts did not have the means to offer me vodka, but offered me instead a sort of home-made beer, called "bragga", prepared from sugar, yeast and water. "Excellent for the health!", Leonid assured me…
"Stop and come and warm yourself up. You can stay here to sleep and there's food for you to eat." These simple words of Albert put me immediately at ease. I just had time to extract the bits of ice stuck to my beard before soup was served. Albert is 71 years old and also lives here alone, far from everything. He still hunts and fishes from time to time, despite his advanced age, but lives off his only pension of 1,700 roubles (FRF 400), just enough to buy fuel-oil for his generator. Can you imagine a pension like that? The closest village is at least 200km away!…
Here at the end of this leg, 3 women with shaved heads smiled at me. Women here, and without any hair! Two men came to join them. These were the 5 meteorologists from Cape Konstantinovsky. Originally from Arkhangelsk, they recorded data without being able to transmit it as their radio had broken down. For eleven months out of twelve, they live here. A stock of rations for a year, and no means of communication other than Morse. Which is one way of saying that they were impressed by my satellite telephone a laptop computer. Seeing their astonished eyes, I called my wife in Paris, merely to show them "how it worked". Holding forth on the life of my batteries, Sergueï, the head of the base, interrupted me and in a very solemn tone asserted that "In Russia we have computers that can calculate for a hundred years - and without batteries!" Then he left the room to return with this extraordinary "computer": the famous Russian abacus!
Thus can one live alone for months on end on the Arctic Coast, in temperatures of 30° below, without losing ones sense of humour.
I often cogitate, during the day, about the point of hauling a sledge in the polar desert, but each encounter, be they ever so rare, manages to comfort me in my resolve."
Mars 2001 : Accused of Entering a Forbidden Area
Accused of entering a forbidden area. After leaving his isba for a rendezvous with Kotkino, an overland distance of 80km, and after a brief visit from 3 snowmobiles that spontaneously came from the village to help him, Gilles was again obliged to return to his cabin. Two successive storms from the North and the South had obliterated the track, and progress with the heavy sledge proved to be impossible on his own because of the thick layer of wet snow and difficult to cross ravines.
Another week went by. The decision was hard to accept but Gilles no longer had any choice: the Soula slush was not going to freeze. He would have to accept aid and get to the village on a snowmobile. 
At the village of Kotkino, Gilles's legs suddenly showed signs of a serious oedema from the knees to the toes due to infection. Despite an initial consultation with a local doctor and then a second, via the satellite telephone, with Dr Charbonnier, the expedition doctor, diagnosis was difficult for want of serious analysis. One week later, and the feet finally got back to normal. After some final injections in the buttocks, Gilles set off for Nar'yan Mar. Eléna accompanied him this time and was put in charge of making the video. A few villages on the way and repeated banias (Russian baths) added gaiety to this journey for two in temperatures at time reaching -40°C.
Once at Nar'yan Mar, the oil heart of Russia, the adventurer was stopped and questioned by the regional authorities. He was reproached with having been in the forbidden area of the Kanin Peninsula two months earlier.
After a regular interrogation first by the interior police, then by the border guards and the FSB (former KGB), he was not allowed to leave town. Apart from entering the forbidden area, he was also lacking an important permit for his itinerary in the Russian Arctic. In view of the seriousness of the situation, he was obliged to rejoin the team at Moscow in an attempt to sort things out.
The following day, the missing document was miraculously discovered in an office in Mourmansk, some 2,000km away. Confronted by his suddenly relaxed accusers, Gilles was delighted to learn that he was not a spy. The matter was closed by a signed statement in which the adventurer admitted having broken the law, which incidentally dated from the Soviet period. This incident could well cost the Arktika Association 40 roubles (about 20 francs)
"I wonder what this forbidden area could be hiding. All I saw there for hundreds of kilometres were stunted bushes, frozen swamp and low, grey sky. But it's true that there is a military rocket launch base not too far from there."
Gilles at present is getting ready to resume his tracks in order to get to the pack ice of the Barents Sea, which is frequented by polar bears and by a few, rare hunters leading a precarious existence, cut off from the outside world.
January 2001 : Resupplied With Vodka !
Gilles left his little cabin, his refuge for these last three days, once again yesterday morning. You can imagine his surprise when he suddenly heard engine noises and saw the three skidoos arrive, led by the region's Chief of Police! Although pleased to meet human beings again, he was quick to appreciate the situation: they had not brought sugar, salt or a stove. On the contrary, they had with them medicines, bacon and … a bottle of vodka! Fortunately, there were also some sweets in one of the rescuers' pocket. "I had just asked for a few rations, not for a helicopter to come to my rescue!", Gilles declared to his wife. It was she who had been put in charge of organising the resupply. It is not always easy to be both the adventurer's wife and the person responsible for the expedition's logistics. Eléna had made the mistake of appealing too soon to the Kotkino village administration, without clearly explaining the situation and especially without stipulating the list of items to be taken to Gilles. These fellows therefore thought that the situation was very urgent and organised help. Despite the mistake, it could be said that this was a good example of how the established safety system actually worked. The Kotkino village administration had been notified of Gilles's approximate arrival time by the Moscow support team. They were expecting him on 18 January, and when they realised that he had not arrived, they kept themselves in a state of readiness in case there was a problem. A huge thank you to them all! Thanks to the snow scooters, a track had been created and Gilles wasted no time in following it before it completely disappeared, obliterated by the blizzard. He could thus shorten the distance to the Kotkino village by nearly 40km by departing from the meanderings of the river.
After two months of hell isolated in the polar night, Gilles was finally, a little earlier than envisaged, going to rejoin his wife, who would be coming from Kotkino to bring him supplies and support. She also decided to accompany him for the 160 kilometres to the Nar'yan Mar.
Isolated in a Little Isba Without Any Reindeer
For three days, Gilles has been isolated in an abandoned wooden house. He felt incapable of making progress on the River Soula, because the terrain conditions were difficult, but above all because his physical condition had deteriorated.
Five days ago, he had been obliged to kill his two reindeer to put an end to their suffering and to be able to eat. The animals were exhausted from fatigue and hunger.
Progress then became difficult because of the weight of the overloaded sledge. Soon the two stoves refused to work and he had to eat raw meat so that he could reach shelter.
A new rise in temperature had created a kind of sludge of muddy snow that was going to make progress very difficult in the days ahead.
But the more important problem was Gilles's physical condition. He had nothing but reindeer meat to eat and had a serious lack of carbohydrates and salt. Furthermore, he had neither torch nor candles. For weeks he had been living in the half-light of the polar night.
Gilles's wife, Eléna, who was in Moscow with his support team, was examining the possibility of a resupply with the Kotkino village administration some 80km away.
Tedious River Crossings
Day 46 8 : 66°43'N 48° 42'E / 350km from Mezen', 50 km from Oma. 5 days of testing terrain. The reindeer were struggling in snow up to their withers. As I was on my own, I had both to blaze the trail and lead the reindeer. There was no path. One had to pick ones way through a maze of trees and avoid hazards. Sometimes I had to blaze the trail with a shovel and an axe.
This expedition and my previous journeys have allowed me to meet people of all nationalities, cultures and religions. In addition to such disparity which constitutes the wealth of humanity, I am becoming more and more aware that men, whatever their origins, are terribly alike and that their problems, fears and hopes are all very similar. Seen from the north of the polar circle, alone in the tundra immersed in the polar night, I sometimes have the impression of looking down at Earth from outer space. I am more and more aware of its fragility and fear even more man's destructive insanity in his eternal quest for profit. I sometimes dream of a world that is not solely run by money. Utopia? Perhaps, but our children and our children's children will no longer have any choice if they want to live - and not merely survive - on our small planet. |
The crossing of the River Bezmochitsa was particularly difficult. I harnessed the reindeer to the back of the sledge so that they could hold it back against the slope. When climbing up the other side, a lead broke when the sledge had almost reached the top of the bank. At the second attempt, panic set in among the team and the lead reindeer was nearly strangled. It laid on the ground unconscious for about ten minutes. I unloaded the sledge and pulled it to the top of the slope myself.
I had the impression of being in the half-light all the time. When I take the tent down in the morning, it is dark. When I walk for five hours non-stop, it is grey and snowing. When I set up camp at 15.00, it is still dark. The polar night is a difficult period… The animals are starving and the lead reindeer is showing signs of exhaustion.
But this evening, I celebrated my arrival at the source of the River Soula, which will lead me via 200km of meandering to the village of Kotkino. An isba welcomed me in the light of the full moon. I can dry my things and make the necessary repairs in the warm.
Happy New Year !
Dear friends, dear children and all who are following my progress, I'm taking advantage of an orbit of a satellite to wish you all a happy 2001, a joyful 21st century, and for the more fortunate among us a marvellous millennium.
