The View from the Window: Russia

“I can see Russia from my house.”- Tina Fey, satirizing Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Live

 

Sailing up the coast of Russia brought some of the most spectacular scenery in memory.  Snow-capped volcanoes fronted by black ink water, which in turn was peppered with bits of ice.  Ooh, look at that one—doesn’t it resemble a polar bear floating on its back?

This was our view most of the sunny day on which we were sailing toward Petropavlovsk, the second largest remote city in the world, sitting on the far eastern coast of Russia—just to the east of Siberia. Not accessible by road, this seaport town is best known as the site of a secret Soviet submarine base during the cold war.

The scenery had not ended when we found ourselves in the middle of a bay, surrounded by the city.  On one end, we could see gray cinder block buildings looking very much like the remnants of the soviet era that they are.  Some people had tried to enliven them by painting them bright colors, but they wound up looking like shipping containers.  Other parts of the city contained livelier architecture, and seemed inviting to the visitor.

But, alas, it was not to be.  Although we’d been in Russia two days earlier (more on that below), the local Immigration authorities insisted on doing a full passport check here as well.  As this was a tender port—there was nowhere to dock—and as the only way we’d be allowed ashore without visas was on a structured tour, several hundred of us gathered in the show lounge, waiting for word to proceed ashore on our tours.

And waited.  And waited.  Every so often, a crew member would announce, “no word yet.”  “We’re still waiting on Immigration.” (Story of my life.)

Eventually, the announcements started to change.  The seas were becoming choppy, and there was question as to whether the tenders would be safe.  Apparently, the port, which is controlled by the Russian navy, had placed the landing pontoons in an exposed area that would make getting off the tenders fairly treacherous. And, since moving them would involve the approval of the naval headquarters in Moscow, that would be that. So, after a struggle with the bureaucracy, the captain announced that we would not be getting off at Petropavlovsk after all.

For me, that meant that my views of Russia would be only from the window. 

Some from the ship, however, had indeed visited Russia two days prior, when the ship had called at Korsakov, at the southern tip of Sakhalin Island and not far from the northernmost tip of Japan.

I’d planned to get off in Korsakov. But as we approached the island and heard that (1) the temperatures were in the 20s; (2) a foot of snow had fallen the day before; (3) snow was falling now; and (4) we would have to go ashore by tender (for the uninitiated, this is where the lifeboats are taken down, pulled up next to the ship, and you step—or leap, depending on conditions—onto it from the ship, and then the reverse on return), I reviewed what there was to see and do in Korsakov.

The ship’s excursion people had already been working on managing expectations for this port, and so had not given much to be enthusiastic about.  As best as I could tell, you could go to a viewing platform where about all you could see would be our ship, then go see a statue of Lenin, then go to a market area where you could buy cheap souvenirs.  So, on balance, I skipped this port.  Beth went, and her description was “it wasn’t horrible.”  Oh well.

So, in sum, I missed all but the view of Russia from my on-board house.  Better luck next time.

Next up:  Groundhog Day.