ski

The real Adventure starts on the ice. I got engaged in the scouting club of the lycey in Novgorod named “Utka”, the little duck. Every winter they planned a skiing-trip on the very beautiful lake Ilmen which could be reached by the river Volkhov, which passed by our lycey The Ilmen is surrounded by a dozen beautiful monasteries and is one of the prettiest hotspots I have seen so far.

The plan was, to take about 16 students and teachers along, who are skiing to the middle of the lake, sleep over and return the next day. Sounds easy, but it’s not. Certainly not, for a skiing-an alphabet like me.

The year before a French assistant had a nervous breakdown on the ice and did not stop to cry. It is cold and windy there. And we are talking cold: Minus 25 degrees Celsius. You better wear long underwear or you will risk your fertility. So I thought: “Let’s get it on."

The first day was amazing. We passed by the Kremlin, the fishermen in their valenkiji (warm winter-boots made from felt) in front of an ice-hole with the fishing rod in action. The skiing went surprisingly well and soon we found ourselves in an area, which was completely surrounded by snow. No trees, no houses and no coast in sight. That is how I imagine Antarctica. Once in a while we met more fishermen with more holes, but not only with fish but also with horses, who carried them there. In the evening it was still slightly bright, because the snow is reflecting the remaining light as long as possible. We build a little igloo for some of the equipment and erected large tents for the night. We put the camping-cooker on, had hot tea and kascha (this is the general term for porridge with different kind of grains and in every condition of aggregation). I remember the moment of eating and how the warm mush went down my throat. Reminded me of some lines in “One day in the life of Ivan Dennissowitch” by Alexan

Photographer:

wil6ka

Uploaded:

2005-07-29

Albums:

OldSchoolRussia

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