Tuesday 28 July 1998 and Wednesday 29 July 1998
St. Petersburg/Moscow/Odeesh/Khatanga/Mys Schmidta
". . . the conductors say nothing so you have to know where and when to stop and get off. And you are given no warning bells when doors will shut and absolutely no more than 45 seconds at each stop."

Here we are in Moscow. Now we must transport all of our huge load. It has increased quite a bit since JFK, having added bottled water, extra carry-on food, and a Honda generator that Alexei had purchased (with Ross' funds) in St. P., plus Alexei's huge backpack and a small suitcase. The plan: get from the Moscow Express down under the street, through myriad tunnels, and up and over to a platform that would provide the train at 10:25 a.m., which would take us to the town of Odeesh. In this town we are to meet a bus that will take us to a military base (hush hush -- speak no English) where we will catch that cargo flight to Khatanga. The suburban train, as they called it, was kind of amusing as the conductors say nothing so you have to know where and when to stop and get off. And you are given no warning bells when doors will shut and absolutely no more than 45 seconds at each stop. So, with all of our luggage we created an elaborate plan: as our boxes and gear blocked the entrance/exit vestibule to the narrow width of one person, we decided Ross would get off first, prepared to force the door open if need be -- as apparently it usually was. Then I would jump off, taking all these carry-ons, then Jeff would jump off. Ross and Jeff would then receive all boxes, duffels, and backpacks from Alexei who would be the last to leave the train.

Alexei stressed that speed was critical -- or he and/or some luggage would be trapped on the train. Speed! We awaited our stop in fixed position, ready to go. OK -- we are here. OK -- ready? Doors begin to open -- Ross helps force them -- now GO! We were front-to-back-to-front-to-back ready to jump out after Ross, but Ross refused to move! "Go!" said I. "Go!!" said Jeff behind me. "GO!!" shouted Alexei as our 45 seconds ticked away and we had not even set foot on the platform. Finally Ross, who always suffers in silence, gently expressed that his finger was caught in the door, ripped and bleeding, so he was unable to move. Ross continued to extricate himself while I passed that message back to an excited Jeff and he passed it on to a frenzied Alexei. At last Ross was free and we all spilled out in a mad rush catching boxes and bags as Alexei hurled them as fast as he could. Phew!

Now we had 90 minutes to hang about in the hot Moscow suburb sun. Quest: coffee and WC (Water Closet). This station had mini-markets everywhere, but not a one offered coffee. We checked out a little supermarket where I picked up eight cans of espresso with milk and sugar. That should do the trick. Spotted a WC and, most refreshed, walked back to the platform, gear, and Ross and Jeff, with Alexei. At 1:00 p.m. we hauled our goods down the platform, down some more stairs, across the tracks, and set up camp to wait for the military bus. About 2:45 p.m. we hopped on the bus and were instructed that we must look like Russians, not speak English, and we covered up the labels on our expedition boxes that state:

R. D. E. MACPHEE

AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY

NEW YORK CITY

Seemed like a good idea. We had no problems when the Russian soldier boarded the bus and he let us drive in to the base and onto the tarmac. Strange to be on a military base surrounded by about 50 planes and lots of hangars. Some of the planes were clearly bombers, according to Jeff and Ross. Some were big radar planes, some clearly high-speed fighters. We waited on the tarmac in the sun with about 15 people all bound for either Khatanga or our destination, Mys Schmidta. Our "IRS" plane arrived from Namibia while we waited. About 6:00 p.m. we were invited to walk out to it. A few more minutes of hanging around allowed Jeff the time to point out boxes in the garbage:

Quality Meat Product

(With Taste)

From Namibia

. . . along with a number of rejected potato salads that had been baking in the dumpster for a couple of hours. I mention this because we were all a little horrified to see one of the men waiting with us reach in and help himself to several.

Finally, after boarding and cooling down we took off at 6:45 p.m. Moscow time. Uneventful but interesting flight with melons rolling down the aisles, drunken off-duty pilots careening about, lots of snoring. Eight hours later -- full bright sun the whole time -- we landed at Khatanga where we stayed on board while some departed. This was a refueling stop. Ross and I stepped out just to feel the Arctic air. Very cool, we were above the Arctic Circle (which is 66°N) -- about 72°N. The Arctic Circle -- that imaginary line that describes such remoteness! A wild hound, but sweet, met us on the ladder at the plane, carrying an unbelievable load of the biggest mosquitoes I have ever seen! Big, clunky, slow flying.

Once all was set and ready, about an hour later, we took off for Mys (= Cape) Schmidta. This was our final flight on the Ilyushin -- another five hours or so. Still, nothing but bright sunlight. We blocked off the windows and put on our green "goggs" -- sunglasses with the sides blocked off. Sleep!

Awoke at Mys Schmidta about 5:25 local time -- bright morning sun. We were met by Sergey Vartanyan, the scientist who demonstrated that the mammoths on Wrangel are Holocene. Our luggage was ultimately deposited and a man named Nickolai took us in his huge rambling vehicle to the hotel. Yes, there is a hotel in Schmidta. At last our team is complete: Ross, Jeff, Alexei, Sergey, Clare. The hotel is a former airport building. The rooms are small, high-ceilinged, warm, clean. Each wall is decorated with a gorgeous oriental carpet. Thick double-paned windows. And of course, constant sun. We were told that Alexei and Sergey, who are staying in a nearby apartment, would come back for us at 8:00 to take us to dinner. At that Jeff said, "Dinner? Now? At eight in the morning?" which were my thoughts exactly. They all laughed -- turned out it was 12 hours later than Jeff and I realized! It was late evening but I had no idea, owing to the sun. Plus, as it turned out, we lost a day by traveling so much. At the hotel, we had one hour to pause and relax, then Sergey and Alexei would come take us to their friend Sergey Sakharov's apartment for dinner. Sakharov cooked up a great meal of chicken, cucumbers, peas, and what we all thought were the very best potatoes (they are instant).

En route to Sakharov's place we paused -- no, actually it was after dinner -- we walked to touch the Chukchi Sea: cold! Ice floes everywhere. Chukchi are the local people of Chukotka, and Schmidta is one tiny settlement in this huge area. Sakharov treated us very well, as we six adults sat around a tiny table, eating off tiny plates while sitting on tiny stools. We made our plans for tomorrow: meet at 9:00 a.m., get certain permissions, do our final shopping, and GO -- take that helicopter to Wrangs! As nice as Sakharov's dinner was, and as interesting to make plans, I was falling asleep at the table. Literally. So, we bid farewells, agreed to meet at 9:00 a.m., walked by the sea, came home, showered, and all tucked in to sleep -- still the high bright sun above us. I guess we were tucking in about 10:45 p.m. Not one second too early.