Naldina

I hope that the voiceover artist on my first Russian television interview will take considerable license with my cold induced ramblings, standing on the edge of the ice at the source of the Angara river. I am confident that he will, having seen some exceptional translation last week on the news in a piece about Prince Charles. The reason for the media frenzy is the Naldina festival that takes place every April 1st here on Baikal. The premise is that two teams take chain saws and cut rafts out of the ice at the river's edge and then make their way downstream to a hotel about a kilometre away. I'm the only foreigner here, having tagged along with Alek, the chief dog sled rider. Together we waited for one of the local hovercrafts, then loaded aboard a dog, two inflatable rafts and some oars before setting off to the where the television cameras were beginning to gather. I think it was my first time in a hovercraft but I was concentrating on looking Russian so I didn't have to pay the high fees that they charge for tourist trips in these things.

The ice's edge is abuzz with activity and chainsaws. I felt foolish having been so nervous elsewhere on the ice when here people are jumping from one edge to other. The TV crews are a little more tentative then the locals, with expensive equipment to consider, especially after one ambitious jump from a Baikaler ends up with him falling in. Thankfully he grabs hold of something and avoids getting his top half drenched but even so I expect there to be more of fuss, instead he just carries on with preparations for the voyage. I stand on the rafts and they feel quite stable but a few inches of water is already lapping around all the equipment as waves break over the edges. To add to the confusion a guy arrives in his airboat and starts buzzing around the ice, also doing interviews and taking camera crews for a differnet perspective on the action. I ask him for a ride and it is incredible. I feel priviledged to have had a crack at so many forms of transport across the ice in one day but I feel dog sledding may still have the edge. Finally, having set up a radio mast on one raft and an ice kitchen on the other the race is technically underway. However, there is a strong wind blowing onto the lake so the rafts, instead of sailing into the distance, are pushed sideways. The locals might just have stoically accepted this but its not good enough for TV, so the hovercrafts are called in to push the rafts out into the river. My batteries have given out because of the cold so I just watch from the hovercraft as presenters are filmed lounging on chairs. They appear to float gently down the river, giving the report they were sent to give, but meanwhile the hovercraft engines are working hard to maintain the illusion, while the raft's crew are working hard to stop the hovercraft upsetting their patch of ice. Tea is prepared in the large samovar on the other raft, along with some sandwiches on the ice kitchen. On our raft the radio presenter shouts into his mic above the noise of the many engines. Eventually television has taken its fill and the rafts ground on the river bank not far from where they started. Alek and I take an airboat halfway to our truck but then bizarrely we are stopped by the traffic police and our driver must go and sort out a fine/bribe for an air boat related driving offence the details of which I can't ascertain.