Episode 2 I should have done this in Episode 1, but David didn't think of that. So, let me introduce myself, and 'my lot'. I am Benny bean bear, a professional stuffed toy, traveller extra-ordinay, and blogger. I am a Mr. Bean type bear and I was created by Lyn (L) quite a number of years ago. Although I am not the oldest of my family I am the only travelling/blogging bear amongst them, thank goodness. My number of siblings seems to be forever increasing and they have been sent off to live in various places around the country. Then there is David (D), he's the one that does all the driving where ever we go and generally keeps the Rangie (range rover) in running order, a battle he has been losing in recent times. The rangie lives in England, back in Burnett Heads, our home in Australia he has other vehicles cluttering up the place, as L would say, but only one that actually gets driven about whilst we are at home. Whilst at home L spends many a summers night crawling around the beach monitoring the loggerhead turtles that nest on the local beach, coming and going from the house at all sorts of inhospitable hours, generally keeping me awake. L is also my blogging secretary,for want of someone more talented, and dedicated. Well, L finally turned up in Arundel, D and myself found her at Ford station one Monday evening. I had been warned that she was on her way but somehow didn't really believe it, then lo and behold there she is. Her excuse for having not joined us earlier is somewhat iffy, I really think she was just skivving off though she cliams to have been doing things here and there. Going back and forth to Airlie Beach on the train and back and forth to Sydney on that train, all without me. It was after she arrived that I was formally informed that we were off to Russia yet again, but this time without my beloved rangie. We were to take a cruise on a ship, well, I'm not at all sure what that might entail, I know about planes, and I've been on plenty of ferries, but a ship and the high arctic, that will be a new experience. This announcement also explains D's hurried trips to London about which he had not been at all forthcoming and I had been left to twiddle my toes (not that I've got toes) in the van at Brookside. He had been to organise his Russian visa. I'm glad he didn't take me, as the securiety guard at the Russian visa office once asked me if I had a passport, what could I say, I'm a stuffed toy after all. After L arrived I really can't say a great deal happened, it didn't. D showed her our new Rangie, the old one having done a big end on what was supposed to have been a rebuilt motor, was now back at the workshop in London until such time as they actually get around to fixing it. Meanwhile D had found another Rangie, the same model and colour as our old one, but with considerably lower milage, about what the old one had soon after we bought it. It is actually a few months older than the other one and the upolstry is a different colour. So now we have 2 Rangies, 1 in the workshop and 1 that actually goes. L is none to pleased about the general idea of 2 vehicles, having 3 at home in BH and only one that can be used. Then one day the luggage was packed up, the van cleaned up, the Rangie loaded, me bundled into the day pack, and we drove around to Ford station where the luggage and L and I were unloaded, D went and put the can in its lock-up nearby and came back. We caught the train to Gatwick, then from there our flight to Moscow. L kept me unseen in the backpact so as no-one would ask me for a passport though she assures me I don't need one; I'd be happier with one. We spent a night at a nice hotel near the airport in Moscow then had a hair-raising taxi trip aound the Moscow ring roads to another airport where we caught our flight to Anadyr. An 8 hour flight and a 9 hour time change. That didn't bother me in the slightest but my lot seem to me somewhat jetlagged and don't know if it's day or night. It is actuall mostly day, I can assure them as the sun seems to shine most of the time. We were met in Anadyr by the cruise ship company agent. He smoothed out the paperwork for our entrance into this restricted area. It's a remote region and a special permit has been granted for all the cruise passengers. Along with my lot there were 5 others who would be joining the cruise who had come on the same flight. They included a Russian couple from Moscow, a French couple who live in Munich, and a Canadian woman who lives in Tasmania. Once we all had our luggage, took about one and a half hours from the time we landed, we all piled into a taxi for the short drive to the ferry dock. Then a half hour ferry ride across the inlet while we were entertained by hundreds of Beluga whales brought us to the town of Anadyr where we again piled into a taxi and were taken to our respective hotels. With 2 full days to fill in the agent Alexander, a native of this area, came up with some excursions we could do, at a price, a very substantial one, according to all 5 who took part. The Russian couple did their own thing. One afternoon we were collected in a taxi and transported to the top of a large hill behind the town. On top of this hil is an abondoned and derelict soviet communications and listening post site. The harsh winters of this region have wreaked havoc on the old installation that now mostly conists of a tangle mess of fallen towers and ancillary equipment. The old barracks is falling apart with concret cancer and the floor is littered with debris from the generations of youths who have used it as a 'hangout' since its abondonment. Broken glass litters the ground all around sometimes hidden under the tundra awaiting the stumble of some oblivious individual. We walked some way over and down the hill to a small hollow that was some what protected from the wind and here the agent, Alex with the aid of an assistant set up a picnic and BBQ and cooked up shashlick (meat cooked on a skewer over an open fire or on a BBQ). While the shashlick was being prepared us tourists meandered about the hillside and looked at the view and the vegetation. This was tundra with all the associated berries begining to ripen. We found plenty of crowberries and cranberries and some blueberries. Only the last were really ripe and most of those had already been picked. Still everyone found some to nibble on, and L got quite a few stains on her trousers from kneeling on the tundra. It was still an obstacle course walking around the slopes as everyhwere there was bits of metal or wire ropes and coils of wire partly to fully overgrown with tndra plants, as well as the fact that it was very rocky. We all enjoyed the shashlick very much. The next day another excursion took us back across the inlet to the airport side, on a barge with the 4wd that was to take us about. Again the Belugas kept us enteratained of the ferry. Not far from the ferry and the airport is an undergrown coal mine that supplies the town with coal, shipped across the inlet in a large 'drum', to run the town's electricity power generating plant. Beside the mine are the appartment blocks that house the mine workers and families. In the hills behind the airport are the missile tunnels. This is where in Soviet times neculear missles were stored and kept ready for launching at the US and Canada if the need arose. Thank goodness it didn't! This whole area was secret, not quite sure just how secret after the advent of spy satilites, but who are we to question such things. There are two abondoned towns across the stream from the tunnels, the upper town was for the scientists and top brass associated with the site, whilst the lower town was for all lower ranking personel. The place dates from the 'cold war' era of the 1950's and was abondoned in about 2000, quite a while after the breakup of the soviet union and the tunnels were left open and unguarded after about 2003, when the government could no longer afford to keep personel here. Whether the missles are still in some locked up sections of the myrid of tunnels in the mountain is quite probable. We took a walk through the main tunnel. There is a rail line running through all the tunnels. The rail is how the missles were moved through the tunnels. At a number of places there are large blast proof doors that can be rolled across to block the tunnel, whether they would have proven much good against a nuclear explosion is probably just as well it was never put to the test. There are also vast undergound rooms around the tunnels that were workshops and recreation area for those employed here. It was much colder in those tunnels than outside in the balmy 12C sunshine that we were all very glad to emerge into after our excursion. In the derelect towns where the buildings are slowly falling apart we walked through an old canteen where workers once enjoyed a meal and a social get toghter, walked past the old school with several generations of children would have been educated right through primary and secondary level. We tried to get to the launch site on the other side of the hill but one of the culvets has colapaed since Alex, our guide and the cruise agent, had last visited the area. The big Russian 'go anywhere' 6 wheel drive vehciles would easily have got around and through the gully but our regular 4wd what-ever it was didn't stand a hope in hell. Someone in a Niva tried to take this alternative route only to get stuck on a high rut 6m after starting, and we had to tow him back. In the steams that run out of these hills we saw a great many spawning. dying and dead salmon. It is the spawning season and the reason there are so many Belugas in the inlet. They too are after the salmon. Along the shore of the inlet we walked amongst the fisherman who were catching salmon before they got to the streams. Mostly these caught salmon only had the roe extracted from them then they were tossed away. Some of them were fillited and the flesh sold on the local market, but mostly it was only the roe, or caviar as it was constantly refered to, that was the prize. It's the same bright pink colour as the fish and my lot got to try some here but it wasn't really to their taste. There were hundreds of fishermen and families camped around the inlet while the season was open. It would close on the 31st August and each person was supposedly limited to 30 fish per person per day so we were told. Judging by the number of fish we saw on the beach my lot, and the others persume that the quota is not at all enforced. Still it had been an interesting day out that everyone seemed to enjoy. The following afternoon saw us once again on the ferry watching the Belugas as we crossed the inlet again, this time to join the ship for our cruise. In a very short space of time we were installed in our cabin, L and D each had a single bunk while I was dumped on the sofa below the port hole. Actually the cabin, the cheapest available, knowing my lot, was quite adequate. Plenty of space really, along with a wardrobe, a desk, plenty of draws and a hand basin. Showers and toilets were just a short distance away and shared by all on this deck. The dining rooms were on this deck too. There was plenty of outdoor deck space to enjoy the invigorating crisp high arctic air, or to just take a stroll after eating too much at dinner, or breakfast. The cruise company employs an 'open bridge' policy where passengers can go up on the bridge and watch all the action from this birds eye position and in the comfort and warmth such a place enjoys. However, the bridge would not be open to us until we had left port and the pilot, whose job it is to guide the ship through the port shipping lanes out to the open sea, had been safely returned to his vessel and seen on his way back to Anadyr. My lot enjoyed their first meal at sea, however, things went downhill fast from there. They had both eaten the salmon and although no-one else was ill, David was extrememly so. The onboard doctor insists that it wasn't the salmon because it had happened too soon afte eating the meal, but David got very ill while L just felt uncomfortable. L was fully recovered by morning and partook of a healthy breakfast. From an upset tummy D developed the flu, and a couple of days later L succumbed to the flu too and both are stil recovering as my secretary writes this more than 2 weeks later. © Lynette Regan 9th September 2017