In 1901, British Journalist John Foster Fraser travelled from Moscow to Vladivostok, and back again, mostly by rail. On his return, he recorded his experiences (and prejudices) in “The Real Siberia”.
In today’s excerpt, Fraser crosses Lake Baikal on an English icebreaker:
I looked for the great Baikal that is supposed to scorn ice packs and does carry three trains across the lake. But she was not to be seen, though there was the special jetty which gripped her when trains wore run on board, and a hundred yards away was a black monster of a floating dock, where she can be housed when repairs are necessary.
It is certainly an advantage being a stranger in Russia. Foreigner spells “good tips” to servants, and so the cabin steward on the Angara gave me a good cabin, saw my luggage safe, and handed me the key.
Lunch? Certainly! There was a nice little buffet on board, and a hobbling old waiter, who had all the habits of his tribe, though he was four thousand miles east of the nearest European city, brought me cutlets and peas and bottled ale.
I saw somebody glance sideways at me through the window, somebody with a ruddy, clean-shaven face and a little cloth cap. So I went out.
“By the cut of your jib you’re a Britisher,” I said.
“Yes, Isaac Handy, of Sunderland. Glad to see you.”
Here was an honest-tongued north-countryman who had come here with others to put the Baikal together after she had been sent out in pieces from Newcastle. Also he superintended the building of the Angara on which we now stood; he was giving an eye to the building of the floating dock, also keeping watch on the steamer Ftoroy, specially built for the rapids on the Angara river. It was his duty to be about and be useful if anything went amiss with the engines which the Russians could not understand. He was one of the modest army of Britishers one drops across in odd corners of the world.
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As the vessel slowly churned her way across, Mr. Handy told me about the lake. He pointed out a huge boulder lying in the mouth of the Angara which the natives regard with awe, because they believe that were it removed all the water would run out of the Baikal. Certainly the water tears into the river at a terrific speed. This is not to be wondered at, as the Baikal is nearly 1,600 feet above sea level.
Presently there came steaming down the lake huge four-funnelled vessel, white painted, by no means pretty, and rather like a barn that had slipped afloat. That was the Baikal, one of the most wonderful vessels in the world, coming back from Misovaya, and carrying two goods trains fully laden. If necessary she could carry three trains and eight hundred passengers, but at present the Baikal is used for merchandise and the Angara for passengers.
The Baikal passed sufficiently near for me to appreciate her great size, and as the fore gates were open I caught a glimpse of red-painted goods waggons. The ship is of over 4,000 tons, close on 300 feet long, and has nearly 60 feet beam. She has three triple expansion engines of 1,250 horse-power, two amidships and one in the bow. This power is required in the ice-breaking. She will break through ice 36 inches thick, and her bow is made with a curve, so that when the ice is thicker she can be backed and then go full steam at the ice, partly climb on it with her impetus, and then crush it with her weight. This means that the Baikal sometimes takes a week to cross the lake.
This post is one of a series of excerpts from John Foster Fraser’s “The Real Siberia”. Further excerpts can be found in the Siberian Light archive.
The full text of The Real Siberia is available online at Friends & Partners.
