Hotel Petropavlovsk - the other side of the world

Ah, so it's here they come to film footage for Cold War films! My God, this is the most unrelentingly drab and depressing place I've ever seen. The journey to the hotel by bus must have taken half an hour, during which I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scenery. More on that in a sec. So, to catch up...

...we checked in at Shere about two hours before the flight, having not seen Neil or anyone who might be in our group. They have a very strange system whereby they check your ticket and x-ray all your luggage before you check it in. This all happens in a similar fashion to the security checks at Heathrow, only you have all your luggage to put through the machine. They also make you take your shoes off and put those elastic bag things they have a swimming pools on before walking all of four metres through the x-ray, retrieving your shoes and putting them on again. Russia seems to me more and more about process – possibly a legacy of the communist era? Anyway, we found the Irish bar (we identified it from it's name – 'Irish Bar'. Since it's not the first language, i guess they have to be explicit) and were having a pint there when Neil and the others found us. They'd been downstairs at the other end of the airport for about three hours. Ben – a colleague of Dex's – and Pete joined us for a beer.

The flight was an experience. We were on an Illyushin, which had more cabin headroom than I'd ever seen before on an aircraft. Seriously, it was high enough for a dwarf to stand on a man's shoulders and still be able to juggle. Well, a dwarf of average size, anyway. So, the flight was full and crowded. It was a real mix of people, but I noticed a higher-than-average number of ABS backpacks and snow jackets, which suggested that Kamchatka may be a 'destination' for the more extreme snow enthusiasts.

Dex and I each popped one of Dex's sleeping tablets, and I went to sleep soon after lights out, waking when they came back on for breakfast. This must have given me six hours of sleep, and were nearly there....Only we weren't. Due to bad weather, we diverted to a nearby airfield to wait it out. Well, I say 'nearby',it was actually in a different timezone. It's that pesky 'scale' thing again. To try and describe this airport provides me with an ideal opportunity to use the word 'tinpot' – well as tinpot as an airport can be and still service passenger aircraft, I suppose. Most of the ground staff were on foot, and there were three sets of stairs buzzing around the aircraft but not actually docking with it. I had just been reading about an Addis Ababa street market in 'Dark Star Safari', and I had the brief thought that maybe the sets of stairs were 'freelance' and were haggling with the plane for business, since they seemed to be driving around the plane much like street urchins or market hawkers might.***Anyway, after an hour here, they decided to give it another whirl, and luckily, this time we made it – after spending only sixteen hours on the plane. Everything in this part of the world gives the impression of being not quite finished, and I'm beginning to see the logic and advantages of planning regulations. Petropavlovsk airport has a number of runways, for instance, but all the land in between – that's kept short and groomed in the UK – is basically swamp and forest land. God knows what would happen if a plane had to veer off the runway. A knackered bus took us from the aircraft to a gate (literally, a metal gate) which led straight out to a car park. We then stood here until our luggage appeared.

So, the bus ride. The bus was pink, and the driver had obviously decided it needed more brightening up, so had installed chintzy purple curtains and pelmets all over it. Hideous. As I mentioned, the terrain was more depressing than anything I'd ever seen. It had obviously snowed heavily weeks or months before, but the snow was retreating, and it was all either grey or brown. There were many trees, but all deciduous, and as I type this, I haven't yet seen any natural greenery. The hotel is pretty ugly, and I'm fairly certain my pennies aren't being spent on the accommodation. There are a lot of staff, and they all seem fairly miserable. Again, maybe the lack of 'service industry' is a communist thing. There are twenty or so skiers and boarders staying here, in three groups. We had a briefing on helicopter safety, and we've all had to hire ABS backpacks, as it's 'policy' ('Air Bag System' – they have a ripcord to inflate in case of avalanche). They come with shovel and probe, so I've hauled my avalanche gear out here for no particular reason, and I also don't get to road test my new Deuter rucksack. Annoying.

Dinner was in the hotel restaurant/bar – which is hilarious. They're big on neon lights and chrome, here, and the bar area is the sort of thing you may have found in a community centre circa 1983. Since we're near the sea there's a lot of seafood on the menu, and apparently salman (sic.) farming is big around here, so there's lots of that on the menu. Imagine the fun we had with the 'Salman Rosti'. By this point, apart from ailrine food, I hadn't really eaten for a day or two, so we ate everything put in front of us. The weather reports weren't great for the morning, but they'd be having a meeting and making a call on whether to go at 9:30 ths next morning. And so to bed.***As I type this, Dex is lying on the bed opposite mine, fully clothed, and sound asleep. Bless.