1998
CWA Does Russia
by Marge Cline and other participants
[Note: Reprinted with permission from The Gradient, October 1994, a newsletter by the Chicago Whitewater Association.]
Impressions and memories from this trip are very different from those recalled after most paddling trips. As the instigator of this adventure, my advice to those who signed on to go was, "Hang loose and just go with the flow." The only clue I had of what would happen was contained in the "business plan" I had received from Nickolai Devyatkin last December. An emerging entrepreneur, Nick had sent letters to over 20 paddling clubs listed in Paddler magazine. His letter was an invitation to visit his country for eleven days and outlined a cultural/paddling experience for what seemed to me a ridiculously low price. The trip would include touring St. Petersburg and visiting palaces and museums, attending a concert, ballet, and a circus, and finish up with a river trip, too. It offered home cooking, guide service and staying at the homes of Nick's friends and associates. After reading his letter, I asked Bob, "Do you want to go to Russia with me next summer?" Before he could answer, I picked up the phone and dialed the number Nick had given! Nick had friends who lived in Wisconsin, and they agreed to meet with us in early spring. They had been to Russia with Nick before and tried to help us understand what to expect in Russia . . . and from Nick. Quite frankly, they understated everything!
We arrived in St. Petersburg on August 2. Nick was at the airport with several of our host families and "the" bus to transport all of us. I breathed a sigh of relief and gratefully turned over leadership of 15 other CWAers to the Russians. From his very first, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?" it was obvious we were in enthusiastic and capable hands. Nick, I believe, also quickly realized that leading a CWA contingent would tax his resourcefulness, tact, and patience. He was up to it and quite often afterwards, when he needed our undivided attention, the call to order became, "Ladies and gentlemen, I have a joke for you!" He never ran out of them and never told the same one twice!
The logistics of our activities approached the mind-boggling level considering that we were housed at a half dozen different locations scattered all over St. Petersburg and most Russians don't own cars. The bus - more on that subject later - was driven to a predetermined location each day, and we all managed to meet each morning, getting there by foot, car, bus, or the Metra. No one ever got lost, though Nick was almost paranoid on that subject, fearing what would happen if anyone did. None of us spoke Russian, we had no maps of this city of 5 million people, nor the addresses of where each of us was staying. Nick's phone number, which we had been given, certainly wouldn't do much good, because he was with us.
Rather than give the reader a chronological day by day report of our activities, each traveler was asked to jot down things that were particularly memorable in their own mind - on the flight home. Since immediate impressions are usually the best, the notes each made were collected when we deplaned at O'Hare, and will enable us to share some of our experiences.
From Pat Mueller: For me, the highlight of this trip has been Nickolai. We called him Nick; his Russian friends called him Kolai. In his late 40s, he was a teacher/guide before any privatization of the Russian economy. He took kids to the woods just because he thought they'd enjoy it. Nick has kayaked all over the former Soviet Union and is now taking the incredible risk of starting a business wedged between the government (which would take up to 70% in income taxes) and the Russian Mafia (which would take 10-20% - that is, if they knew about his business!) Those two factors dictate business is conducted on a cash basis, until he feels he has a secure foundation built up. When pressed, Nick admitted that he'd be more willing to accept Mafia participation than the government's, because you might get something back from them. They do offer "protection" in the same way that one virus in your body keeps others out. He also says that the Mafia will collect unpaid bills and refer clients to you. The Mafia alternative seems infinitely better than a government that takes the $$ and returns nothing.
Nick had two sides: 1, the highly over-protective, hyper vigilant, authoritarian and almost paranoid "parent" of 16 unruly ducklings, who were prone to scatter in as many directions, and, 2, the humorist who could see the fun in everything - even his own behavior. In Nick's defense, as our parent, he couldn't chance us getting lost - an investigation by authorities would have blown his cover. As a humorist, the following may give insight as to how he handled his charges. Regarding the job of keeping us in line and on time, he uttered the following, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have enough time for ice cream or toilet. Those that already have ice cream must stop and take their pee here. The others may go to the toilet. That's a joke."
Some of us occasionally skipped breakfast, and Nick let us know he was aware of that fact. "Our intelligence is very good. We know that four of you have not had your porridge. There are still four clean bowls. There is no use trying to cover up; we already have you on our list."
Nick announced that his friends thought he was being over-protective. "So maybe I am. After lunch everyone can do whatever they like, but I take no responsibility if one of those drunks under the bridge cracks you over the head with a bottle."
His sense of humor also extended into other areas. Re: history of Stalinist Russia: "Smolny - Stalin had him killed because he was popular with the Leningrad people. Then he used this as a pretext for the 1934 purges. Secret police would knock on doors early in the morning to drag people off to prison. One family was in terror at 4 am when the loud knocking was heard. They rushed to get meager possessions gathered, anticipating being carted off to prison. Finally, one dared to open the door and smiled as he announced to the rest of the family, 'It's nothing to fear, the building is only on fire'."
On the Russian medical situation: When Nick's wife Valya urgently needed an appendectomy, they announced she could only get a local anesthetic because the doctor was out to lunch. Another patient reported hearing the following exchange between two doctors just prior to his operation, "I cannot work with you. Each time I do I have a corpse on my hands."
And finally, on the roads: "A tourist comes from Finland and complained about the roads. 'I don't understand about your roads. They are full of holes and there's no warning for them. In my country they put a little red flag before you get to the hole so you know to be careful'. The Russian says, 'Didn't you see the big red flag when you crossed the border?'"
Nick's humor punctuated the entire trip and kept us all smiling.
From Bob Cline: Observing the people on the streets in St. Petersburg was very interesting. As pedestrians, each seemed intent on his individual destination. They walked as individuals, seldom in groups or as couples. Rarely did I notice anyone smiling and as our group passed by, they simply stepped aside. In contrast to this public behavior, Nick and Val never lost enthusiasm for our welfare. Even though we were paying guests, their home became ours. In dinner conversations, which lasted well into the night, I always got honest answers to my questions, even though I sometimes got the feeling that some the subjects we covered, they would rather not talk about. Nick never uttered, "I don't know" and gave an honest individual appraisal about their economy and where it is headed. He said things are definitely better than when the Communists first lost power and joked about that time: "A Russian went into a store to buy some meat. He asked the clerk if they had any and was told, No, this is the store that has no fish. The store that has no meat is around the corner'."
Our daily cost for this trip was the equivalent of 2 1/2 weeks pay for the average citizen! No wonder Nick was so anxious for his enterprise to succeed.
From Dawn Guenther: The title of my contribution could well be "In the Fast Lane of a Slow Moving Country." At 8 pm a slanting golden light falls on St. Petersburg from the Gulf of Finland. The subtle blues, greens, and tans of the 17th century palaces and museums reflect in the dark canals. St. Petersburg is sometimes called the Venice of the North and is split in half by the Neva River and interlaced with many canals. On the Nevsky Prospect, brightly dressed shoppers crowd the sidewalks, while yellow and red streetcars careen down broad avenues. With St. Petersburg, as with photography, it all depends on the light.
On an overcast morning, the black cement faces of the apartment buildings fill acres. There are no single family dwellings in the city. Dusty, untended greenways separate the 15-story high, block-long monoliths. Elderly, brown-clad workers stoop to sweep the edges of the roadways with bundles of twigs. There is a dark side that hints at the deprivation and oppression of the past, in stark contrast to the opulence and richness of the 17th century downtown palaces and museums.
Entrepreneurship blooms even in this darkness. Glass front stalls , kiosks, sell cigarettes, fruit, cosmetics, even video tapes; kind of a Russian 7 - 11. A flea market booms under a field of red and blue umbrellas and is crowded with tourists in town for the Good Will Games. A white uniformed woman reaches into a covered cart to sell bakery goods. No bag provided, however, to wrap your bread. The purchaser supplies his own or simply carries the loaf home under his arm. Another push cart advertises milk; another - ice cream. A pile of watermelons brought in from the South is on the street next to an olive drab truck. Yes, there are grocery stores, too, but there are no shopping carts to pile in your purchases. And the cost of your veggies and canned goods is first figured on an abacus before being rung up on a digital cash register.
Our hosts' spotless apartments were small, but well furnished. Rooms did double duty in some - at night the living room became the bedroom. These belonged to the fortunate. Many people still live in communal flats with four or five families to one large apartment with a communal kitchen and bath. Space in St. Petersburg is at a premium. Waiting lists for apartments take years. Two of our hosts wanted to get married, but had put it off for 10 years, because they were unable to find a place of their own. Nick had lived in his apartment for 45 years - he had inherited when his parents died. Few infants are seen; the maternity wards are closing down. I mentioned to Val that I had seen a pregnant women. She said, "People will think she is crazy." Many apartments appear to be under construction, but the massive cranes used to lift the preformed concrete slabs into position stood motionless. No capital exists to finish the buildings and we began to refer to this as the Land of the Dormant Cranes. The frozen cranes somehow seemed symbolic of a country stalled between government control and the uncertain progress of budding capitalism. Entering one of these apartment, one steps over a foot-high threshold and into a dark, graffittied elevator lobby. Each individual apartment is protected by double doors, steel ones with massive locks and deadbolts. One of our hosts had five locks on each door!
Though we saw no crime, it surely exists here and is related to widespread unemployment. Several of our highly skilled hosts had lost their jobs or were in the midst of severe cutbacks. Thirtyish, mostly childless, they would be called Yuppies in the U.S. In Russia, they are grateful for a combined family income of several hundred dollars a month.
The public sector also has difficulties which are concretely reflected in the condition of the roads. One of the few phrases I learned was "bolshoi yama" = big hole. The streets destroy the shock absorbers of the matchbox-like Lada cars. One day we saw an asphalt machine at work. Behind it, three men with wooden rakes labored to smooth the lumpy product. One morning our host drove us down a wide, rutted avenue without lane demarcations. He passed a slow moving car on the left, then found a slow moving truck immediately in front of him. Veering into the oncoming lanes, he overtook the truck. I noticed as we passed, the truck was signaling for a left turn. In its own unique way, Russia is racing forward.
From Marge Cline: After five days of the touristy-thing in St. Petersburg, we left for the river trip part of Nick's itinerary. Leaving the city behind, we travelled through the country. Every few miles we passed through a small settlement; no more apartment buildings, just log cabins and small homes, all remarkably alike in design, but individually decorated in each occupant's idea of "gingerbread." Cows, goats, and lush gardens surrounded each home and each village had one store. There were few gas stations for fuel or other necessary stops. Nick was very considerate of his charges needs and our "sanitary stops" were by the side of the road. Ladies went one way, gents the other and one could pick blueberries, raspberries or currants while attending to business. "The" bus was old and when a light drizzle started, we became ingenious at stopping the leaks through the roof and windows. Grey tape worked in most cases! Each time we stopped and the driver turned the engine off, it had to be hand cranked in the rear to start up again. The cough of the engine was met with a round of applause from all of us.
After about three hours we arrived at the put-in for our wilderness trip. The area we were going to paddle was a large flowage of the Vuoska River which flowed south out of Finland. The guides who would accompany us, had travelled there the previous day and assembled our craft while waiting for us. Each folding kayak took three hours to put together! They also had lunch ready and waiting for us. As they unloaded our gear and transported it 1/4 mile to the lunch spot, we were not allowed to help in any way. It was about this time I pulled Nick to one side and told him, even though we were paying guests, none of us minded helping with the chores. He finally agreed that it would be O.K. if we helped, but was insistent that help was not expected. The Russians were there to do everything for us.
The distance we paddled each day was short, as much activity had been planned for each campsite. Time was also needed for the cooking chores. Twenty-four people were to be fed using only a campfire for a stove. Early that afternoon we pulled into a beautiful campsite where we were to partake in a Russian barbeque - soup, marinated pork cooked over low coals on skewers, boiled potatoes, tomatoes, and dessert accompanied by red or white Georgian wine. That evening I convinced Nick to paddle with me after dark under cloudless, starlit skies. Perhaps I embarrassed him just a bit, but both Bob and Valya knew what was up. I was teaching him a bit about dancing a boat to music and telling him what freestyle paddling was all about.
The next morning we loaded up and paddled for a few hours, arriving at our campsite in time for lunch. The early arrival was required so there would be time to prepare our wilderness steam bath. Rocks had to be heated for three to four hours to get hot enough for the sauna they created. The experience was complete with a lashing by birch branches for each of us; then a quick dash to plunge in the river to cool down. That evening we gave a demo of the C to C roll and the Russians showed us they they could roll the folding K-2s also.
The third day we paddled the farthest. At one point the river necked down and a rapids was formed. Nick seemed a bit nervous about our whitewater skills and insisted that we all stop and scout before paddling through the standing waves and swirling eddies. A couple got flipped by the large volume water and unfamiliar equipment, but rolls worked for all and we saved face by having no swimmers. That evening we created our own version of the Good Will Games and Russians competed against Americans in a number of contests of childish skills. Prizes were awarded to the competitors. During our closing ceremony, we taught the Russian the Hokey Pokey!
From Marcia McLain: After the games that evening, some people went swimming, others slept. A group of Americans sat watching the sunset and pontificated on what it means to run Class IV water in a collapsible double kayak as our friends did. A few Russians were deep in conversation which I could not understand. I sat near them trying to recognize some of the few Russian phrases I had learned: "hello," "goodbye," "I am full," "I don't know," and "I speak Russian very badly." Perhaps they would be willing to teach me more. In response to my request (only decipherable by the fact that they knew more English than I did Russian), they agreed it was a good idea. Someone had the thought that learning a few foul language phrases might be even better because then I'd be likely to recognize some words in other unintelligible conversations. Great joy! Good idea! I ran to my tent for my travel diary to record the new words for later reference. On my return the Russians were in a quandry over who should teach this forbidden vocabulary to a young, sweet and pure American lady. Finally it was determined which corrupting Russian would be my tutor. He blushed, he sweated, he paled. He finally blurted out a word and I happily and loudly repeated it. "Please do not ever use these words after this trip," he requested me as I repeated it again. I beamed proudly with my increased Russian vocabulary. There was much squirming and laughter, but my lessons in Russian swearing continued for another half hour. Some words were offered to me aloud within the group; others were whispered in my ear far away and deep in the woods. All were duly recorded in my journal and my knowledge of Russian obscenities is now pretty good. Oh, yes, when one swears in Russian, it is very important to remember to roll your "r's."
From John Connet: On the fourth day of this wilderness trip, we paddled to the take-out. As we move away from shore, the wind increases and is coming directly at us. My partner, Fran, and I have switched positions. I am now in the bow. Waves are breaking over the deck in front of me, but the boat feels stable enough, even though I have no toe blocks and I sit with one leg folded over the other. The worst part was getting used to a kayak paddle, as I generally use only one blade. The wrist rotation of the double blade has been rough on my carpel tunnel! The wind and waves are making this very interesting. No wonder sea kayaking is so popular. We follow close by the shoreline along a narrow peninsula as the wind velocity increases. Occasionally the boat is blown off course in a sudden gust, but it is manageable. Nick makes the decision to pull into shore and portage over the peninsula so we can paddle on the lee side. Great surfs were had upon landing. Off in the distance, large whitecaps were visible, before the boats were carried a short distance across the narrow spit. We launched again in much calmer water. After travelling the length of the peninsula, we had to make a couple of crossings between islands. During these crossings, we felt the full force of the wind again. I would have loved to stay on the windward side, having been brought up in Rhode Island on such waters, but Nick's decision to paddle in calmer seas was best for the safety of the group. These windy waters end our K-2 paddling and after landing we watched the boats get broken down into many small parts. The canvas skins were hung on lines to dry, before being packed into duffels for transport.
From Ray McLain: We travelled by bus to the whitewater site where we were to paddle the Russian catarafts. The four person catarafts were about 12 feet long and 8 feet wide, with two long inflated tubes on either side, covered by a frame of four crossbars. Kneeling positions were on each corner with a "bicycle seat" on an angle to support your weight if you were not up on your knees and leaning forward. When paddling with 6-foot long canoe paddles with wide blades, the team would be coordinated by a captain in the rear. Typical instructions were "forward -left" or "right-back" or "all forward." Bow paddlers might extend for draws or cross draws (done between the tubes) to aid in turns. The catarafts seemed a bit loggy compared to canoes or kayaks, but were reasonably maneuverable considering their size and weight.
The rapids we played at reminded me of Taylor's Falls on the St. Croix - a wide section of river with fast current and a few rocks. The rapid was about 1/3 mile long with several eddies along the side, some big waves that were hard to catch in the middle, and, near the end, a rock pile which formed a nice eddy which could be recirculated from the runout area below. Nick said we could paddle with or without a Russian guide and a couple of us had to learn how to captain - fast. The catarafts are much preferred over regular rafts by the Russians because of their superior maneuverability and stability. In raft slaloms, they are infinitely better. The comfort of a cataraft is questionable because of the kneeling position of the paddlers. Those who can't kneel are in trouble. The bicycle seats were cut out of plywood with no rounded edges and some of the American paddlers were nursing bruises two days later. The Russians wore pads strapped to their buttocks which would help a lot. We were told that cataraft owners generally customize their craft, but since these were brand new, they had not yet been modified for comfort. I feel that a cataraft in a fleet of boats would be a nice addition for those who like more excitement than a regular raft provides, but like the security of a group-paddled craft. They could be useful on a wilderness trip for break downs and gear hauling.
Throughout the eleven days, the most noticeable experience was the "people effect." Contrary to the cold war propaganda many of us had grown up with, the Russian people were not monsters. Their ideas, plans, and dreams were not very different from ours, but they had been thwarted for years by the system of government in their country. They were a most hospitable culture!
From Virgil Buss: The friendship that developed between the American and Russian people was the highlight of the trip for me. All ice and stereotypes broke down when we started camping and kayaking. When we hit the rough winds and rolling waves, everyone was concerned about everyone else no matter which country one came from. I shall have a lot of fun showing my pictures to family and friends and ask them to pick out the Russians and the Americans. I know they won't be able to see the difference because people are people. It is a great world we live in.
From Fran Almquist: Communication was fun but frustrating. I'll remember Marina, Janeene, and myself each with a Russian/English or English/Russian dictionary trying to find the right words. Misha trying to give directions in the cataraft, left, strong - right - stop!, then trying to show with signs a reverse stroke all the while getting into the eddy behind Gendarme Rock. Street vendors were no problem. They knew all the right words. I had a conversation with Sasha at lunch and then realized he didn't have a clue as to what I had said. And Boris, our older guide on the river, who knew a great deal of English, with his all-knowing smile, who couldn't understand why these Americans didn't have the sense to bring wool clothing along. We had no trouble understanding the goodbyes on the last day. To show how Russian we had become, Jim Gindle, when approached in Amsterdam for money by a street musician, responded without a thought - "nyet."
From Ann Wohead: I shared a host family with Pat Mueller. It was a grandmother, Anna, and granddaughter, Tonya team. They couldn't speak English very well and our Russian was even worse. Just the same, between poorly pronounced words and pantomime, we were able to communicate quite well. At times, both cultures would try extra hard to get an idea across and then, as if rehearsed, in unison, we would abandon futile efforts with a big hug and much laughter, truly a universal language.
Our last day ended with goodbyes and embraces as warm as you could find anywhere. Anna and Tonya were such beautiful, helpful, and gracious people and were able to make us feel their home was our home; they were two very, very lovely ladies.
From Jim and Carolyn Gindle: The Russian hospitality is 5 star in our book due to the warmth and congeniality of the people who invited us into their homes. Our host couple, Vica and Misha , in their early 30s, wined and dined us with beautiful china on the table and unique Russian meals one tastier than the other. Hot beet soup, herring filets in a blanket of rice and sauce, topped with shredded beets and sauerkraut bread. A staple served with any meal is dark bread with salami and/or cheese. Their apartment is very small and clean without the many conveniences we take for granted. Their building is small compared to most, about 60 units. The hot water had been off for a month, usually a yearly event, for repairs. They adapt by attaching an electrically operated device to the shower head that heats the water as it flows through, a small stream, but it gets the job done. Misha, an engineer (as is Vica), now teaches math in grade school, and in the evenings, in high school, also. This job pays better than an engineer's. His monthly salary is about 200,000 rubles. Though our Russian was zero, our host family had a moderate command of conversational English. We managed to share through pantomiming, pictures, and rephrasing an idea using words they knew. The Russian/English dictionary was often in use and we laughed a lot. Beautiful people who have fun and make the most of their environment.
All of our host men and women were skilled wilderness campers. On the trip we paddled our K-2, our first co-operative paddling trip in the same boat, through calm and rolling seas. We managed to stay upright and master the straight course techniques of paddling and are still happily married. This trip was an adventure, not in classy hotels, but among the reality of Russian life and culture. I'd recommend this trip to anyone and would love to go again.
For more informtion, call Marge Cline 708/359-5047.
