Fortunately, the mist is not stable and keeps changing all the time: changing itself and the landscape. Lighting is different every minutes and with it the mood of the scenery shifts from dark and gloomy to joyful and bright. And all the way back. And again...
Sometimes everything clears up, and then you see the other bank of the lake, almost 40 miles away. Something in the view reminds me of Yellowstone Lake, but the scale here is quite different. Still, they may become good friends if ever learn how to be pen-pals. There is something similar in their cold depths, in the rivers they feed...
After a few slow but fabulous hours we arrived to the spot. A small hotel, almost literally in the middle of nowhere. Everything is tidy, clean and smelling of fresh wood. And - unearthy silence around, even birds cannot break it with their songs.
On the banks of the lake we found not only virgin forests, but also a few steam engines, spirits of the old railroads in real iron flesh.
And then - we kept enjoying different visuals of silence. The warm evening lights in the house - the only one for quite a few kilometers. Mirror images in the lake in the morning - and lots of other views that we did not take photos of.
Alas, a weekend is not enough to look at all the beautiful places around. Moreover, Baikal like any lake keeps changing all the time, so one can simply sit quietly and look at the same direction. The view will roll out like a personal story, endlessly and majestically.
But we live in a real world where the tickets for the flight back home are in our pockets, and the date on them cannot be changed. So, early in the Sunday afternoon? After a short walk along the rails, we started back. Actually, just in time - because the new storm and pouring rain were approaching fast from the south.
But while we were fleeing from the storm, the views were gorgeous: and we even had to occasionally move the files from the cards of our cameras to one of the notebooks: even large memory quickly gets full when you have these pictures to take.
That's almost it. The sun did not last long - when we came closer to Listvyanka, the gap between the hills where Angara starts, was closed by a heavy curtain of a thunderstorm. For a few hours we felt like inside a giant washing machine. Only late in the evening, before we left Irkutsk, we got another gorgeous view, Angara at sunset.
Well, enough of Siberia for one story. Meet you on these pages next time!
Andrey - firstname.lastname@example.org