We boarded the train last night (July 9) at — well, take your pick — 01:31 local time, or 23:31 (11:31 p.m.) Moscow Time. Strange feeling to drive into the station last night and see all times two hours earlier than you “thought” they were.
This morning, we passed through Krasnoyarsk about 07:30, a prosperous city on the Yenisey, a mighty Siberian river that runs to the Arctic Ocean. The hills are covered with conifers. The river port is obviously a busy one. It dates from 1628.
As I write, we’ve just passed through Taishet (about 400 km / 250 mi. from Krasnoyarsk). Lumber seems the primary industry here: 60% of Russia is covered with forest. The dark green of the forests give way to the lighter green fields outside of town, which are blanketed with vast lavender swatches of Ivan-chai. Ivan-chai grows wild and is brewed as tea. Since Tsar Ivan the Terrible liked it, it has been called Ivan-chai ever since.
Taishet is the junction in the railroad with the Irkutsk-bound trains going south and the “BAM”-trains headed more directly eastward. BAM stands for “Baikal-Amur Mainline” (in Russian: Байкало-Амурская Магистраль or Baikalo-Amurskaya Magistral’), a second Siberian railroad. It runs north and more or less parallel to the older route we are on.
Portions of the BAM were built before WWI. More was built after WWII with slave labor until the Gulags were closed in 1954. Only in 1976 did work recommence. It has not been fully completed nor has it lived up to the promise for Siberia’s economy for which it was originally touted.
The “old Trans-Siberian” runs very close to the Mongolian/Chinese border from Irkutsk eastward. We will be leaving the train at Irkutsk, as this is where the post road, the Moscovskiy Tract, ended. It was at this point that St. Herman’s group of missionaries took a northward tact and a new means of transportation: water.
Irkutsk was a military outpost of the Empire as far back at 1652, a church having been built and a town established by 1686, on the banks of the Angara River. Religiously, it is will become a point of convergence for four different strains of Orthodox missionary life. First was St. Innokenty, Apostle to Siberia who reposed in 1731. Next would be the journey of St. Herman and his companions, which I am retracing. Third would be both St. Innocent of Moscow, Apostle to America; and fourth, St. Yakov Netsvetov.
St. Innokenty (Sibirsky) was the spiritual role model for St. Innocent. (In Russian, both are named Innokenty; Innocent, being the English form of the name. I’m deliberating using two different forms of the same name in an attempt to avoid confusing these two men. Innocent is also the name by which the second is commonly known in America.) St. Innocent was born Ivan Veniaminov in an area to the north of Irkutsk in 1797. (Orthodox bishops are monks and given a new name upon entering monastic life.)
When St. Herman and his companions came through the area in 1794, it is slightly before St. Innocent’s birth but an area already missionized by St. Innokenty more than 60 years prior. This first Innokenty is known as the Apostle to Siberia. At the time of St. Herman’s journey, Irkutsk was already a diocese, a diocese that would soon include Alaska. St. Innocent (Veniaminov) would later be the bishop of most of eastern Russia as well, before finishing his ministry as Metropolitan of Moscow. He reposed in 1879.
I refer to St. Innocent (Ivan Veniaminov) and St. Yakov Netsvetov as two different strains of missionary life although they are contemporaries. As noted above, Ivan Veniaminov, later St. Innocent, is moved by the piety and missionary zeal of a previous missionary giant, St. Innokenty.
While studying for the priesthood in Irkutsk, he encounters young Alaskan-born Yakov Netsvetov studying there as well. Netsvetov’s mother was indigenous Aleut; his father, Russian. His mother’s conversion dates to the work of the original missionary work begun by St. Herman and his companions.
Both Veniaminov and Netsvetov will labor in the mission fields of Alaska, Veniaminov representing a second wave of missionary activity in North America from Russia. Netsvetov represents the fruit of the first wave, indigenous clergy being raised up to continue evangelical labor. Both are married priests at the time of their “deployment” to Russian America as missionaries.
So, it is Irkutsk where we are heading. It sits near Lake Baikal, the largest fresh water lake in the world, and the deepest. Depths reach over a mile. (Think how deep the Grand Canyon is, if you’ve seen it. It’s one mile deep, too. That’s really deep!) Baikal contains 20 percent of the world’s fresh water, freezes over the in winter, and has species of fish which exist no where else, not to mention nerpa, a fresh water seal.
Internet connections have been spotty along the railroad. The train doesn’t stop long enough for us to find an internet café in one of the larger cities. But Irkutsk will give us a two-and-a-half day break from rail travel, time to email and even stick our toes in Lake Baikal.
Fr. John marvels over the dramatic scenes of the Siberian landscape during his two-and-a-half-day journey from Ekaterinburg to Irkutsk. 
Truth is, two-and-a-half days by train have not been taxing on us. As Ka’ren’s mother Alla told me before leaving: “You will rest. You will sleep. Train will rock you like baby.” You know, that what it has been like.
We’ve given up trying to keep time, except train time. It is the only consistent one. As we have traveled eastward, we are now five hours ahead of Moscow. The sun says one thing; Ka’ren’s watch, another; and our stomachs, yet something else.
I’ll rejoin the rails at Khabarovsk toward the end of the week and ride to Vladivostok, which is the end of the road for train, but not my journey. But it has really been fun. Our compartment (#4) is in a first class carriage (#7) of Train #2: “Rossiya“. Our stewardesses are a mother and daughter team. Mom’s husband died at 33, leaving her with three daughters. She would later adopt a young boy. So, she has raised four children as a single-mother.
“How did you manage?” Ka’ren asked.
“Oh, it’s not so bad now.”
A key to successful train travel in Russia is getting along well with the stewardesses. They run the carriage, keep it clean, bring you coffee or tea, and wake you up before your stop. These two ladies do a fine job.
Our carriage mates are a couple from Britain, a couple from Germany, several Russians and four guys from Poland. The first class cars are new, with two beds per compartment. The beds convert to seats during the day. (No rolling out bed rolls at night.) There is a flat screen monitor in case you’ve brought a DVD player to watch movies. But then you would miss out on the wonderful natural beauty of Siberia.
It is truly awe-inspiring to behold Siberia’s landscapes. Ka’ren keeps saying: “How beautiful this all would be in winter.” And I’m sure it is. But at temperatures reaching -35°C (-31°F) in winter, I’m willing to let someone else have that experience. Even after almost fifteen years in Pennsylvania, I still think that snow is prettiest on postcards.
Village after village rolls by, log cabins or built of milled lumber. Once in a while there is a hobbled-cow munching grass, or a goat, or some chickens. Their gardens look wonderful. The growing season is short. But small private gardens have always produced most of Russia’s vegetables. They still do.
Finally, it’s lights out. We have an early curtain call tomorrow in Irkutsk.
From Elisabeth:
Santa sleeps………………