From the Arctic Ocean to the Yellow Sea

by Julius M. Price

THE RIVER ANGARA NEAR LAKE BAIKAL.

It was a beautiful and impressive scene, though positively startling withal, to see a moving river once more after the dreary ice-bound wastes one had got accustomed to look at during the past four months, and I could scarcely realize that this was the same river along which I had travelled on the ice so few miles back. The Angara here must have been at least as wide as the Thames at London Bridge, the opposite banks, which were clothed with dense pine forests, rising precipitously from the very edge of the water. On account of the pureness of the atmosphere everything appeared so much nearer than it really was, that at first I could hardly believe that what I took to be curious little bushes on the opposite side were in reality big full-grown trees. I could not help thinking that if the scene is so weirdly beautiful even during the winter months, what must it be when all these grand hills are clothed with the gorgeous verdure of an Asiatic summer? Then indeed must the effect be almost of surpassing beauty, and one which must fully justify its title of “the most beautiful river in the world.” Considering the importance of the Angara, its resources are undoubtedly as yet in their infancy, for this mighty river is the only outlet of the waters of Lake Baikal, being, curiously enough, the only river which flows out of it, and is, as may be seen by a glance at the map, the big connecting link of the whole of the huge watershed of Central Asia—a watershed so vast and extended that in comparison with it that of the Mississippi and Missouri pales into insignificance.

Unfortunately, however, there is an impediment to the entire utilization of this great waterway which up to the present has defied the combined ideas of some of the greatest practical engineers of the world, for not far from where the Angara leaves Lake Baikal it forms a big rapid over two miles in length, and before gaining its subsequent level actually falls over a ledge of rock which bars its entire width. It is this huge “step” which must be removed before the river can be entirely used for navigation. Engineers for years past have been studying the possibility of removing this obstacle, but as yet nothing has been attempted. Meanwhile, however, that Siberian magnate, M. Siberiakoff, has undertaken the task of making the river navigable the whole way for steamers running from Irkutsk to Lake Baikal, and he proposes carrying out his scheme on a chain-hauling principle on the plans of the Swedish system. Whether or not this will be successful on a Siberian river remains, of course, to be seen.

The navigation of the river Selenga, Lake Baikal, and the river Angara is at present only carried on by nine steamers, only three of which ply between Irkutsk and the rapids. All these vessels, except one, are owned by Russians. The one exception is owned and worked by an Englishman resident in Irkutsk, Mr. Charles Lee, a gentleman to whom I have already referred. The Russian steamers offer but little of interest, having been purchased in Russia, and only put together in Siberia. Not so, however, the English one, which was not only built and launched at Irkutsk, but every portion of her construction, from her engines to her outer plates and rivets, was made in Irkutsk under the supervision of Mr. Lee, who is a practical engineer of great ability. This, as being, I believe, the first attempt at actual shipbuilding (not merely putting together) in Siberia, is of great interest, and more especially so when one learns that the credit of the enterprise is due to an Englishman; not the least interesting part of it being that this was Mr. Lee’s first experience in shipbuilding, and that the whole of the work was done by convict labour; also that the ship, when finished, was launched sideways, in itself a somewhat novel feat.

We now followed the banks of the river the whole way; it widened more, and when we at length sighted the lake, it must have been considerably over a mile in width. Here, right in the centre of the seething rapids, is the celebrated “Chaman” stone, a huge rock which from time immemorial has withstood the tremendous rush of the waters round it. It is the subject of many legends amongst the peasantry, one being that on the day it is at length carried away, the waters of Lake Baikal will escape and inundate the surrounding country. Without attaching any faith to such legends, there are many people in Irkutsk who would regard with unfeigned dread any tampering with the Angara rapids, and who believe that the rocks which cause them alone hold the waters of mighty Lake Baikal in check, and that the day they ceased to exist an awful disaster would happen.

LIESTVINITZ, ON LAKE BAIKAL.

I was prepared now for any surprises, after the transformation that had so startled me in the early morning; so when a bend in the road brought us in full view of this vast inland sea, I was not astonished to see that it was still held in the icy grasp of the Siberian winter. The ice commenced again at the very mouth of the Angara, a most extraordinary phenomenon, for it was as though it had been cut away by man to allow of the escape of the imprisoned waters. From one side of the stream to the other the line of ice was as straight as if it had been ruled. The part of the lake we had now reached is the narrowest end; the distance across it here from shore to shore being about thirty miles, though the great height of the mountains on the opposite side makes it look much narrower. Our road now lay along the shore, a sort of rocky beach, reminding me very much of bits of Devonshire I know well. Under the lofty cliffs ice and snow became more plentiful, so my driver no longer had to search for a likely sledging track, and for the next few miles, till we reached the post station, we went along splendidly. The road in one place left the shore for a short distance, and went right across a sort of little harbour crowded with shipping; in fact, we actually had to dodge in and out of the vessels, and duck our heads to avoid the ropes and spars. My driver evidently knew the place well, for we went right through the sort of fleet at full gallop, and a few minutes later reached the quaint little village of Liestvinitz, the point at which the journey across the lake is commenced. And after I had had a good sluice in a bucket of cold water, I was soon comfortably settled at breakfast in one of the cleanest post-houses I had yet seen. A real square meal, followed by a good cigar, put me in the right sort of trim to fully appreciate the novel experiences in store for me, and when I gave the order to start, I was lounging back in my sledge literally basking in the genial sunshine, prepared to enjoy my self to the very utmost. Try and imagine what it would be like starting from the Lord Warden Hotel at Dover on a warm, spring-like morning, with the intention of driving over to Calais or Boulogne, and you will have some idea of this part of my journey.