East Bound - Russia x Germany

Russkoe Ustie by Sled

It was implied in our little party of four to not even speak about the showdown we had in the middle of the lowlands. Instead, we set camp somewhere near a village on the river Bërëlëkh. I had to trust Yakutia, who was used to being in the unknown, and Russia, who slightly started to remember the geography from more than a decade earlier. It was a safe bet that we had no idea how long our journey could take. I wasn't really jumping for joy about the menu of dried fish and reindeer meat. One can get sick of it really soon.

"So, how long will it take us?" I asked, for the billionth time. Yakutia turned from the makeshift table she had assembled and sighed loudly. After making up with Russia, she tried as best she could to make her point clear: she did not have a crush on me. She was doing a remarkably good job flowing it, too. I almost was convinced myself.

"How many times have you asked already?" She snapped. "Come here if you're interested."

On the boxy chest that substituted as a table, they had laid out a full map with a graphite line showing how we were travelling. It seemed we took the worst route imaginable, with us being perpetually near the northernmost peaks at all times. We had reached the eastern centre of the Sakha Republic, and it was just a short trip to Pevek, located it the Chukotka District. Comparatively speaking, of course, since from us to there were many thousands of kilometres. On this dogsled, we could be going for weeks. Months, even.

"I think we might make it under another month, or so," Russia traced the route we were to take. "I mean, up to Cherskii we'll have to tough it out. But after, I'm sure it'll be faster."

"What makes you say that?" I challenged, doubtful that we could make such record timing.

Yakutia spoke up for him. "Because it's an army base."

"My home army base," he clarified. "I know a lot of people there. They might remember me and help us. We just might be lucky and get our hands on an armoured truck. Even a motorised sled would do fine."

"Or a chopper," Germany piped up from next to the fire. He didn't take part around the table, but he did listen.

Russia shrugged. "Maybe." He turned back to Yakutia. "Can you be sure this is Bërëlëkh? There were many other rivers we passed by. It could easily have been Chondon, Yana, or the Omoloy."

Yakutia answered while stirring a basin. "On the Olomoy, you can see Khayir. The Yana is quite big, and the villages Kazachie and Severnyi are on it. Chondon is just east of the Yana. The three rivers are pretty close together, while Bërëlëkh is father, more isolated. Yesterday, I counted the frozen rivers we crossed."

"If you're correct," he said. "Then the next one we should see is the Allaikha river, which is fed by the Indigirka."

"That's where Chekurdakh is, right?" Germany interrupted, his voice sprinkled with excitement.

Russia nodded. "Indeed."

"There aren't any mountains though, right?"

"Um, we passed only one. That was the beginning of the Verhovyankskii Khrebet, or the High Peaks of the East. Although the area we are in is quite flat, Sakha is known for its mountainous terrain."

"Oh,"

"We're lucky, though, since we are travelling now in the Kolymskoe Nizmenost, which means Kolyma Lowlands. After we reach Cherskii, however, we'll be reaching the Chukotkoe Nagorie, or the Chukotsk Mountains."

"Where did all that come from?" Yakutia asked, both quizzical and teasing. "You're not much of a geographer."

Russia rolled up the map and set it back into its trunk. "All you need to do is look at a map, that's all. By the way, to those geographically challenged, we are at one hundred forty four (144) degrees longitude. And somewhere in the low seventies to latitude."