Like torches licking at the glacier

Russia | Anno 2019

 

Monday, July 29 | Kurile Lake – Mutnovsky

Tuesday, July 30 | Mutnovsky

Wednesday, July 31 | Mutnovsky – Paratunka

 

Monday, July 29 | Kurile Lake – Mutnovsky

Ever smaller becomes the Grassy Point Lodge down there, like a miniature house amidst the lush greenery, while the MI‑8 of Vityaz Aero ascends above the helipad. It's half past three in the afternoon, we've bid farewell to our lodging of the past three nights and are now setting off in a wide arc on our flight northward over the Kurile Lake. In the distance, we recognize the long, narrow pebble beach leading to the mouth of the Khakytsyn. There, we can just make out the dark silhouettes of a few brown bears undoubtedly practicing their favourite sport – catching a salmon now and then.

 

As if the peninsula is hanging by its suspenders on the mainland

Kurile Lake, Grassy Point Lodge, mouth of the Khakytsyn

Now we realize how well-chosen the location of the lodge is. The place where the enclosed lodge is located is called a peninsula, but in fact, it's almost an island. A small lagoon reduces the connection to the shore to two narrow strips – as if the peninsula is hanging by its suspenders on the mainland. That a bear would show up there is not entirely impossible, of course, but seems rather rare.

 

Serdtse Alaida

Shortly afterwards, Serdtse Alaida emerges, the lava dome at the centre of the enormous caldera that is the Kurile Lake. The cries of the Kamchatka gulls can be heard above the roar of the gas turbines and the helicopter rotor blades. A flight of about forty minutes will take us to the vicinity of the Mutnovsky. That volcano, 2,323 meters high, we already saw during our flight last Friday from Petropavlovsk. What we remember most about it is that it's a messy volcano, with a mishmash of calderas. Completely different from the geometric perfection of volcanoes like the Ilyinsky and the Vilyuchinsky.

 

Kurile Lake

But the Mutnovsky is indeed a volcano with a history. And what a history it is. For millions of years, it has been rumbling incessantly. Since humanity appeared on the scene, at least sixteen eruptions have been counted. The most intense of these took place in 1948. Every explosion, large or small, reshaped the landscape in its own way. This resulted in the formation of the four calderas that currently dominate the view. Add to that some smaller volcanic vents, called cinder cones, and several lava flows, and you get a scenery that never fails to captivate.

The Mutnovsky is indeed a volcano with a history. For millions of years, it has been rumbling incessantly

Today, the volcanic activity of the Mutnovsky is mainly evident on its northern side. It is there that powerful fumaroles continuously emit their scorching hot gases and vapours. This happens even during the 'quiet' periods between eruptions. The geothermal power released continuously in this way is estimated at 2,000 MW. There are not many volcanoes worldwide that perform better in this regard.

 

 

You won't easily catch the Mutnovsky displaying any regularity. Sometimes, nearly half a century passes between two eruptions, while other times it's only a matter of months. Yet, there is a pattern in the disorder. Because every time it erupts, almost exactly a year later, another eruption follows without fail.

 

 

Such a situation cries out for a geothermal power plant. That's what they thought in Moscow as well. In 1977, they decided to build one. Following the typical Russian custom, it took a quarter of a century before the plant became operational. But on September 27, 2002, the day finally arrived. Much to the delight of the residents of Petropavlovsk, because before that, electrical energy was so scarce that some city districts only had electricity in the morning, others only in the afternoon, and yet others only in the evening.

It was a mind-boggling spectacle, the record Russian base jumper Valery Rozov set on April 23, 2009

Twelve boreholes, one of which reaches a depth of 2,300 meters, supply water at temperatures of 250 to 300 °C (482 to 572 °F). The steam generated from this is used to drive two steam turbines. Together, they provide a power output of 50 MW. The plant operates fully automatically and is controlled from Moscow via satellite.

 

 

So far the good news. Literally, Mutnovsky means 'the cloudy one'. Clouds are indeed the norm, clear days being the exception. This is due to the moist warm air blown inland from the Pacific Ocean. The low coastal mountains offer no resistance to these clouds, but as soon as they collide with the 2,322 meters high volcano, things get interesting. Cloud formation in and around the calderas is the least of the problems, as the confrontation between warm and cold air can result in heavy rains and even hurricane-like storms. Such weather changes are hardly predictable; they can happen in the blink of an eye.

 

 

None of this deterred the Russian base jumper Valery Rozov. It was a mind-boggling spectacle, the record he set on April 23, 2009. Jumping from a height of 3,300 meters out of an MI‑8 helicopter, navigating in free fall with his wingsuit towards the Mutnovsky, making a precision landing with his parachute on a strip of snow inside the smoking crater, swiftly getting out of that crater with its toxic gases, skiing down the steep slope, and still being able to tell the tale – it's not for the faint-hearted.

 

Now and then, a mountain stream emerges from beneath melting layers of snow

 

In short, there's always something happening on the Mutnovsky. But we will keep it rather simple tomorrow. For us, a hiking climb to the fumaroles and solfataras of the volcano is adventurous enough.

 

 

Meanwhile, our MI‑8 helicopter flies further north over pristine green landscapes. A river meanders through the broad valley in erratic bends. Our hope of spotting a bear here or there is rather naive. Then, vast forests take the place of the tall grass. On the green slopes to the east, the last remnants of snow futilely resist the gentle summer warmth.

 

 

Occasionally, a mountain stream emerges from beneath melting layers of snow. However large they may be, we cannot consider most of these snow masses to be glaciers. This is because the pressure inside is not sufficient to form a compact ice mass.

 

How inhospitable it must be down there, flashes through our minds. Just at that moment, the helicopter comes to a gentle halt with a soft jolt

 

We are flying higher now, and the mist is increasingly limiting visibility. The amount of snow on the mountain slopes is rapidly increasing. Then, rocks and boulders emerge, partly covered with ash-grey snow, partly with meltwater – it looks like a moraine. But the dense fog prevents us from getting a clear picture of it. How inhospitable it must be down there, flashes through our minds.

That we were able to land here today at all was truly touch and go

Landing in the tundra

Just at that moment, the helicopter comes to a gentle halt with a soft jolt. Immediately, the pilot opens the cargo hatch. Some of our luggage tumbles onto the tundra. Is this really our destination? Apparently so, because the rest of the suitcases are also being unloaded. Barely have we disembarked when the helicopter continues its journey to Yelizovo, without passengers or luggage.

 

We find ourselves in the middle of nowhere, far from civilization. There's nothing to do here. Or is there?

 

Somewhat bewildered, we take in the surroundings. We find ourselves on a sloping patch of tundra on the northwestern foothills of the Mutnovsky. Below us, a river carries meltwater away. The volcano itself lives up to its name by stubbornly shrouding itself in clouds. We estimate visibility to be around two hundred meters. But that's more than enough to bring us face to face with reality. We are in the middle of nowhere, far from civilization. There is nothing to do here.

 

Kitchen truck, chef Nadya

Kitchen truck

Or is there? In the distance, we see an orange truck parked next to four army tents. Chef Nadya hurries over, while a man approaches us. That's Dima, explains tour guide Christina, he's been keeping an eye on things here. The truck is actually a trailer converted into a kitchen. So that will be Nadya's little kingdom. She and Christina will also sleep there. One of the army tents will serve as storage for our luggage and equipment, one will be used as a dining area, and the other two will be set up as sleeping quarters for the staff.

The question remains, where will we sleep? Not an unimportant question, we think. The fact that the igloo tents are not set up has its reasons, Christina tries to reassure us. Until last week, this place wasn't even accessible from Petropavlovsk. And even then, during the preparation, they had to hastily evacuate because a strong wind picked up. With increasing amazement, we watch on her smartphone how the wind raged between the tents last week. Apparently, the occurrence of hurricane-like storms here is no myth.

The question remains, where will we sleep? Not an unimportant question, we think

That we were able to land here today at all was truly touch and go. For Dima, there was nothing else to do but wait and see. Preparatory work was pointless until he knew for sure if we would actually come. Only when he heard the increasing sound of the rotor blades in the distance did he get confirmation. Mobile phones don't work here, after all. The truck with our supplies in Petropavlovsk faces the same problem. It will only depart once it receives confirmation from the helicopter that we have landed here safely and soundly.

 

Tent camp on the northwestern foothills of the Mutnovsky

So let's get to work. While Dima takes care of the toilet, we set up our tent camp. Our first concern is finding a flat spot with as few bumps as possible because the black plastic mattresses are very thin, and you can feel every unevenness through them. And if possible, we want to lie with our legs downhill on this slope. Setting up these igloo tents isn't really our thing, but we manage surprisingly well. Keeping Christina's video of the windstorm in mind, we even haul rocks from the river below to strengthen the anchoring of the tent pegs. Gradually, about a dozen two-person tents appear in the tundra, some more smoothly than others.

Meanwhile, Dima has been busy with the toilet. It has turned into a fully equipped outdoor toilet, with a floor, walls, and a roof made of thick planks, and it's quite a distance from the tents – that probably has something to do with the smell. Inside, he has even installed a real white toilet bowl for our pampered bottoms. By the way, they build almost everything here themselves on-site, including the table and benches where we sit down to catch up over a cup of coffee just before half-past six.

 

 

Across the river, the green slope is mostly white. That's the northern flank of the Mutnovsky; the snow hasn't given up there yet. The volcano itself remains hidden; the dense cloud cover has it completely in its grip. It's a shame because from this spot, you normally have a view through the fragmented crater wall, and it must be breathtaking. The occasional breakthrough of sunlight through the clouds gives us hope. Who knows, maybe tomorrow we'll get to see stunning panoramas during our climb into the crater.

Every now and then, a truck or a 4WD appears out of nowhere across the river

Descent from the Mutnovsky

Every now and then, a truck or a 4WD appears out of nowhere across the river. These are tourists who have already completed their exploration of the volcano. Because this mountain hike is not only popular among foreign tourists, the local population also comes here regularly to enjoy themselves for a day. Fascinated, we watch as their vehicles struggle down the slope over a mix of mud, snow, and ice. Tomorrow, we will follow exactly the same path. Allegedly, that slippery track is the best part of the journey. That sounds promising.

 

 

Trees are not visible in this valley because we are above the tree line. However, there are plenty of plants. Surprisingly many, as a short exploration of the surroundings reveals. Apparently, enough water gathers during the short summer season to support a diverse tundra vegetation.

You can find all sorts of familiar plants here, but in dwarf size, such as the Kamchatka rhododendron or the Arctic willow

Kamchatka rhododendron

Arctic willow

That doesn't mean living is easy for these plants. The harsh environment – cold winds, long cold winters with heavy snowfall, short summers with intense UV radiation – required them to make significant adaptations. You can find all sorts of familiar plants here, but in dwarf size, such as the Kamchatka rhododendron with its beautiful purple flowers or the Arctic willow with its striking catkins. The small size has the advantage that the plants lose less water through their leaves. Moreover, they can huddle closely together, living in each other's shelter.

 

Woolly geranium

Narcissus anemone

The plants also have hairs or fuzz on their stems and leaves, providing them with additional protection against the wind. You can observe this well with the woolly geranium with its fairly large, blue flowers or the narcissus anemone with its white flowers with a yellow heart. Some flowers are bowl-shaped, directing sunlight towards the heart of the flower, while other flowers have a dark colour to absorb more sunlight.

 

Spiraea

Reindeer lichen is not a moss or even a plant, but a symbiotic partnership between an alga and a fungus

Reindeer lichen

Saussurea

The abundant presence of reindeer moss, a tangle of green-grey coloured branches, proves that water is plentiful here. In fact, reindeer lichen is not a moss or even a plant, but a cooperative partnership between an alga and a fungus. On one hand, the alga produces the sugar alcohols needed by the fungus through photosynthesis, while on the other hand, the fungus provides water and minerals to the alga. The cooperation between these two organisms is so intense that they cannot survive without each other.

 

Aleutian ragwort

It's already quarter to nine, but still not dark, when the truck with the supplies from Petropavlovsk arrives. Vitali has joined us again – last Friday, he accompanied us on the flight from Petropavlovsk to Grassy Point Lodge – along with Koyla and driver Igor.

 

 

The truck they brought along is a Kamaz 6WD with a passenger cabin mounted on the chassis instead of a cargo bed. It can’t be denied, the Russians have developed some robust and reliable transportation vehicles like the MI‑8 helicopters and trucks like the Kamaz, capable of withstanding extreme conditions typical of Siberia. Out of the last twenty editions of the Dakar Rally for trucks, sixteen have been won by a Kamaz.

It can't be denied, the Russians have developed some robust and reliable transportation vehicles, capable of withstanding extreme conditions

The Kamaz 6WD has arrived

And yes, the suitcase that had missed the flight to Petropavlovsk last Wednesday in Moscow has arrived too.

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Tuesday, July 30 | Mutnovsky

Six o'clock. The nighttime cold didn't bother us; the sleeping bags lived up to their promises. Even the mosquitoes, who showed so much persistence at the table last night, didn't find their way into the tents. However, the hard ground leaves its mark, even when you stack four of those thin mattresses on top of each other.

 

 

A glance at the Mutnovsky reveals that its summit is completely clear of clouds, aside from two elongated plumes of smoke rising from the craters. But that's to be expected from an active volcano. So far, so good.

A glance at the Mutnovsky reveals that its summit is completely clear of clouds. So far, so good

Mutnovski with plumes of smoke from fumaroles

Before breakfast, we stretch our legs for a moment. A short walk brings us to a cairn on a hilltop. Neither mist nor clouds impede us; in all directions, the view is almost unobstructed. Lightly rolling, treeless slopes are occasionally intersected by gullies that drain the meltwater. Mist seems to creep through valleys in an attempt to gain more ground.

 

Mist in the valleys

On the horizon, stately silhouettes of volcanoes stand out, adorned with their beautiful pattern of white and blue-black spots. One of them is the Gorely, much like the Mutnovsky, a volcano with a history. In the heart of the gigantic caldera, there are no less than eleven crater mouths of various ages, more or less in a straight line, so that the volcano from here looks more like an upright wedge than a classic cone. With its colourful rocks and lakes, it is a popular destination for mountain hikers.

On the horizon, stately silhouettes of volcanoes stand out, adorned with their beautiful pattern of white and blue-black spots

Vilyuchinsky

Gorely (on the left)

But what strikes us most is the view of the Mutnovsky. The northern crater wall has partially collapsed, and here we stand just high enough to peer inside through the opening that has formed. And it looks promising – impressive crater walls, colourful rocks, plumes of smoke indicating the presence of fumaroles, snow that manages to persist amid this geothermal activity. It will surely be a fantastic experience later on, we have no doubt about that. However, we are somewhat concerned about the clouds that seem to gradually enclose the caldera.

The Mutnovsky knows no rest; there is always some change occurring

The northern crater wall has partially collapsed, and here we stand just high enough to peer inside through the opening that has formed

After breakfast, Vitali sets the course for our day trip to the innermost part of the Moetnovski craters. We are currently at an altitude of 932 meters, and the truck will take us from here to a height of 1,320 meters – a journey of about an hour. Then, we will climb on foot to an altitude of approximately 1,600 meters – a hike of about three hours. The path upward is clearly marked, making it almost impossible to get lost.

 

Breakfast table

Kamaz ready to depart

Still, we need to stay vigilant, Vitali reminds us, because the path sometimes ascends steeply or traverses the ridge of a crater, sometimes it's wet from meltwater or slippery from ice and snow, sometimes you walk beside a poisonous fumarole or a hot mud spring, sometimes a rock or an ice chunk falls from the ridge above, sometimes the proverbial hand in front of your eyes is obscured by the mists... So, caution is the key. Our guides will spread out over the group – Vitali at the front, Dima at the back, Koyla in the middle – to keep us on the right track. Finally, Vitali has one reassuring message for us – there are no bears to encounter.

 

Driver Igor has his hands full with steep slopes, slippery snow patches, and giant boulders

The weather up there cannot be predicted. It can change in the blink of an eye. Wind will certainly be present, and so will water, as the snow is melting. Wearing enough clothing is therefore essential. Don't forget, Vitali warns, that the Mutnovsky, like so many other volcanoes in Kamchatka, is a living volcano. It knows no rest; there is always some change occurring. Sometimes, a new crater lake is formed, or one disappears. Landslides are also not out of the question.

 

 

Shortly after nine, our truck sets off. It begins with a climb along a slippery cart track, sometimes cutting through the moraine of what must have once been a glacier. Ice-cold meltwater cascades over the boulders, finding its way down to the Vulkannaya, the only significant river on this side of the volcano. Driver Igor has his hands full with steep slopes, slick snow patches, and a Salvador Dali-esque landscape with boulders as big as basketballs. But the Kamaz handles it effortlessly. Slowly but surely, it navigates the bumpy terrain while we jostle back and forth in our seats. Meanwhile, the tents behind us are reduced to pale pins in a vast landscape.

 

Meanwhile, the tents behind us are reduced to pale pins in a vast landscape

As we climb higher, snow patches assert themselves more prominently in the landscape. Igor avoids such spots as much as possible, perhaps because he doesn't trust the terrain. But not everyone shares his caution, as evidenced by the numerous tire tracks of 4WD vehicles in the white snow.

 

A cold desolation emanates from that black-and-white backdrop

 

Gradually, it seems as though all colour has been drained from the landscape. A cold desolation emanates from that black-and-white backdrop, with its black mud streaks and patches of grey-white, partially soiled snow. Grey mists have displaced the blue sky and reduce visibility to just a few hundred meters. So our fear has come true – clouds have once again enveloped the Mutnovsky.

 

 

Then the mists part, revealing green slopes with sparse tundra vegetation. Until even those are absent, leaving us only with rocks and snow. Shortly after ten, we reach a gently sloping, more or less flat terrain. The parking lot, as they euphemistically call this place full of boulders. Those who climb the Mutnovsky typically leave their vehicle here. So do we. From this point onward, we continue our journey on foot.

 

Jeeps on their way to the 'parking'

Despite its rugged shapes, you can clearly identify the walls of the largest two craters of the Mutnovsky on aerial photographs. Together, they form a gigantic figure eight, about four kilometres long and 300 to 600 meters deep. A smaller crater has formed at the intersection of this figure eight. Nowadays, it is the most active of all the craters here. If there is an eruption in the near future, it will be the one pointed at.

 

 

Around eight thousand years ago, as Vitali explains, a fissure formed in the wall of the large northern crater. Since then, meltwater has found its way along this fissure, giving rise to the Vulkannaya River, which must be somewhere deep in the valley to our right. By simply following this valley, we will reach the fissure that will grant us access to the interior of the craters.

A fissure in the large northern crater will grant us access to the interior of the craters

 

Indeed, easier said than done. It will be a challenging climb, partly over snow-covered slopes. We need to be careful not to end up on a slippery slope downhill. Additionally, the mist is causing us trouble. The magnificent views we should be able to enjoy here are currently hidden from us.

 

Red algae

Saxifraga merkii

Even in these seemingly barren lava fields without grass, trees, or bushes, there is still some life to be found. Typical pioneer plants emerge here and there, usually sheltered in a crevice or among some rocks. One such plant is the pennellianthus frutescens, with its light purple, bell-shaped flowers. It's known for being one of the first to colonize a new lava field, thanks to its rootstocks. These grow underground in all directions and resurface to form a new plant. What we consider a disadvantage in our gardens because such weeds are nearly impossible to eradicate is actually a significant advantage in this harsh environment.

Typical pioneer plants emerge here and there

Pennellianthus frutescens

Saxifraga merkii

The saxifraga merkii also makes its appearance from time to time. This plant grows low to the ground, forming clusters of green leaves with beautiful white flowers. Like the pennellianthus frutescens, this plant relies on its rootstocks for survival, and sometimes these are even visible on the surface. Saxifrages are known for their ability to thrive even in the far north, and you can find them in places like Greenland and Svalbard as well.

 

 

We've been hiking for about an hour now, and we find ourselves on a high ridge with sheer drops on either side. How deep exactly, we don't know, because the mist has reduced visibility to about ten meters. Undoubtedly, we are in the heart of an impressive scenery, but we can hardly perceive it. We can barely see Vitali as he walks at the front of the line. A cross reminds us of the fate of a twenty-two-year-old student from a scientific expedition who tragically died here in 1991. Not very reassuring, is it?

 

 

But we press on and plunge into the mist, following Vitali. As long as the visual chain within the group isn't broken, there's nothing to worry about. The path continues to climb gradually. Every now and then, the sun seems almost to break through the clouds, but for now, it doesn't quite succeed.

 

 

Originally, there were two lakes down there, Vitali explains. We try to imagine it, but it's not easy, because at our feet, all we see is snow swallowed by the mist. Somewhere deep in the mist, the Vulkannaya must cascade downwards, because we hear the distant sound of a small waterfall. Three years ago, the smaller of the two lakes suddenly disappeared. Such surprises are the trademark of the Mutnovsky. That's just how it is with a living volcano – it’s constantly in motion.

During drying, large cracks have appeared in the undulating grey mud mass

Strange cones of gravel …

… and mudflows

Strange cones of gravel on the slope to our right catch our attention. There are dozens of them, sometimes they even seem neatly lined up in rows. Around the cones, there is snow, but the cones themselves are snow-free. The phenomenon behind this is not clear. The gravel on the slopes has been piled up by wind and meltwater, according to Vitali, but that explanation is not entirely satisfying.

Heavy volcanic violence with severe eruptions and glowing lava flows is rarely to be feared here

Further up, large stretches of solidified mud extend over the slope. It must have been very hot mud that flowed down here because large cracks have appeared in the undulating grey mass as it dried. However, this indicates that the Mutnovsky is not the most dangerous volcano. Heavy volcanic violence with severe eruptions and glowing lava flows are rarely to be feared here; it is mainly more modest phenomena that prevail – fumaroles, solfataras, mud springs, a lake that appears or disappears, a mudflow that solidifies... Of course, this is not entirely without danger, but the risks are manageable. This is one of the reasons why the Mutnovsky is so popular among mountain hikers.

 

And then, at the top of the slope, the unbelievable happens. As if by miracle, the sky clears up

Mutnovsky glacier, Vulkannaya gorge

Over a sandy slope we climb steeply upwards. We've been walking for two hours now. Our visual horizon is almost reduced to zero, our courage is nearly at an all-time low. And then, at the top of the slope, the unbelievable happens. As if by miracle, the sky clears, the stubborn mists are skilfully pushed aside by the wind. Before us unfolds suddenly a Dantean scenery in all its grandeur, as if a blindfold has been lifted from our eyes.

 

 

Through the gorge, we peer into the northern crater. It's a majestic sight, with its steep walls enclosing us like a giant bowl from all sides. The variety of rocks in shape and colour is astounding – from ochre and yellow to red and brown, all the way to grey and black. Razor-sharp crater walls, massive cones of volcanic material, frozen mudflows, solidified lava flows, scattered boulders – you can see it all here.

 

The fumaroles release their heat unabatedly like torches, licking at the glacier

From the bottom of the crater, several plumes of smoke constantly rise hundreds of meters into the air. These are precisely the mists that we want to see, unlike the fog. They are fumaroles, or hot springs that blow hot mixtures of water vapour and carbon dioxide into the air at temperatures of 200° C (392 °F). In the active area, the temperature can even reach up to 600°C (1,112 °F).

 

Vulkannaya

Here and there, small waterfalls trickle down. This is meltwater from the Mutnovsky glacier, which covers about half of the northern crater. We don't get a clear view of the glacier itself, as it is several hundred meters above our heads. However, we can clearly distinguish the blue glacier front with its jagged seracs. What makes this glacier unique is that melting continues even during the cold winter months, albeit at a much slower pace than during the summer months. This is, of course, due to the fumaroles, which release their heat unabatedly like torches, licking at the glacier. It's a remarkable situation, this eternal struggle between the geothermal forces of the volcano and the icy tranquillity of the glacier.

 

It's a remarkable situation, this eternal struggle between the geothermal forces of the volcano and the icy tranquillity of the glacier

Glacier front

Glacier above the Vulkannaya gorge

Somewhere to our left, deep in the gorge, the Vulkannaya river finds its way. This means that we must have crossed that river without realizing it, probably on one of those snowfields. Because we started on the right bank, but now find ourselves on the left bank. It's not uncommon for the river to be hidden under a snow dome for years and then suddenly emerge after a winter season, Vitali explains. Lakes also tend to disappear here. For example, there used to be a lake in the southern crater, but the heat generated beneath the lake was so intense that the water overflowed the rim of the crater – much like water escaping from under the lid of a boiling pot, Vitali chuckles. In 2000, an eruption put an end to the lake.

 

We can't seem to get enough of it, so impressive is this volcanic theatre

We can't seem to get enough of it, so impressive is this volcanic theatre. But we must continue our journey. With renewed courage this time, because there is indeed much to see here. Fifteen minutes later, we look down on the northern crater. At least that's what Vitali claims. We only perceive mists ourselves, as the fog has once again enveloped us as if playing a game with us – this you may see, that you may not see.

But we are fortunate. We are approaching the area of the northern fumaroles. You can find them on and beside the trail, and you can view them from very close up. However, we must not overdo it, as the vapours and gases emitted by these hot springs contain a lot of sulphur. These are called solfataras. The gases they produce are harmful to our alveoli, to the corneas of our eyes, and to the coatings of our camera lenses – we can choose for ourselves what we find the worst. Keeping a distance is therefore the message. But we must not overdo that either, as the ground here is not always reliable. Leaving the beaten path here is not adventurous, it is downright dangerous.

 

Some sulphur vents grow into actual sulphur domes, five meters in diameter and two meters high

Solfataras

Bright yellow walls mark the openings from which sulphur vapours billow upwards. What makes the Mutnovsky remarkable once again is the fact that some sulphur vents have grown into actual sulphur domes, five meters in diameter and two meters high. Vitali recalls that seven years ago, there was only one sulphur dome here. Meanwhile, their number has grown to three.

 

Sulphur dome

Also present are some mud springs, although with a diameter of barely a meter, they are not as impressive as what we saw earlier. Still, caution is advised here as well, because the mud bubbling and steaming there is scalding hot. Water vapour bubbles heat the grey sludge to 80 to 100°C (176 to 212 °F).

 

Mud spring

For lunch – cook Nadya has prepared our packed lunches – we seek out a quiet spot far away from the sulphur fumes.

 

 

Shortly after two, we set out to take one last look into the southern crater. Following Vitali's lead, we climb the ridge from where we can look down into the crater. He explains that there used to be a lake down there which disappeared during the eruption of 2000. We cannot confirm or deny this – mist is all we see in the enormous bowl.

Nowadays, Russian volcanologists have to make do with hopelessly outdated equipment

Vulkannaya

Speaking of eruptions, we wonder to what extent eruptions can be predicted nowadays, and how well the local population or tourists like us can be warned in advance. Vitali acknowledges that it's not a simple matter. Sometimes it is possible. For instance, in 1975, a volcanic eruption was predicted in time to close off the volcano to mountain hikers. However, interpreting the signals remains difficult. Often, you know that something is about to happen, but it's impossible to say whether it will be in a week, a month, or several months.

Until the 1990s, there was enough government funding for measurements and scientific research. But that seems to be a thing of the past. Nowadays, Russian volcanologists have to make do with hopelessly outdated equipment. However, this won't stop them, as we will later learn, from successfully warning the population of Petropavlovsk in December 2019 about the increased activity of the nearby Avachinsky volcano.

 

 

Vitali has never witnessed eruptions live in Kamchatka. However, he had the pleasure of observing the lava flow from a volcanic eruption at night in 2012. This occurred on the slopes of the Tolbachik, his favourite volcano. It's not coincidental that this volcano is located where the subduction of tectonic plates is greatest – a whopping eight centimetres per year. The next time we come to Kamchatka, we must definitely put the Tolbachik on our bucket list. And we should let Vitali know in advance, so he can happily lead us up there.

 

 

However, for Vitali, the moment has now come to lead us back down. We can no longer speak of mist; the humidity is now manifesting itself in actual raindrops. We begin the return journey, which will take about two hours. Just after four o'clock, we arrive back at the truck safe and sound.

 

The Vulkannaya, the river draining the glacier of the Mutnovsky, plunges vertically over a height of eighty meters

But it's not the campsite where Igor is taking us. Because Vitali has another surprise in store for us. And what a surprise it is. Just a few minutes after we set off, we stop at a deep, horseshoe-shaped gorge. A glance downward reveals an overwhelming sight. The Vulkannaya, the river draining the glacier of the Mutnovsky, plunges vertically over a height of eighty meters. In the gorge, we can easily distinguish the successive horizontal layers of volcanic rock – ochre, black, brown, red… For geologists, this is undoubtedly an open book from which they can read a part of the tumultuous history of the Mutnovsky. Further north, we can see how the river has meandered its way through the multicoloured lava sediment.

 

Opasny, that's what they call this narrow, deep canyon. That means dangerous in Russian

Opasny, that's what they call this narrow, deep canyon. That means dangerous in Russian, a reference to the cracks in the steep walls and the possibility that they could collapse. And that's not all. Because along with the melting and rainwater, the river carries sulphuric acid and sulphur-containing minerals. These give the water a cloudy, yellow-grey colour. Fish or other living creatures cannot survive in it. Moreover, several kilometres downstream, the Vulkannaya merges with the Mutnaya. Even though the latter has a larger flow, the concentration of harmful substances in the Vulkannaya is so high that the Mutnaya remains lifeless all the way to its mouth in the Pacific Ocean.

Shortly after six o'clock, we arrive at the tent camp.

Cairn

Spiraea

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Wednesday, July 31 | Mutnovsky – Paratunka

One thirty in the morning. The wind and rain reach their climax. It feels like a storm, with the wind pulling at the tents from all sides. However, the heavily anchored tent pegs prove their worth, keeping the tents standing and preventing any harmful consequences.

Six o'clock. The wind continues to whip the misty air around. Walking around gives you the impression of walking through rain, but there is no actual rainfall anymore. The grey clouds hang low over the mountains, creating a damp, dimly lit, and cold atmosphere. Despite the thick mist, yesterday still seems to have been one of the better days to climb the Mutnovsky.

 

 

That there would be no roads in Kamchatka, as some rumours claim, is actually not fair. Not if you define the concept of 'road' as any terrain on which you can progress faster than a pedestrian, preferably without accidents, and in a self-chosen direction with a 6WD vehicle. And that's precisely what driver Igor plans to do with us today. Where we only see ridges and boulders, potholes and rocks, mud and snow, Igor sees opportunities aplenty. After all, his Kamaz can handle anything. Well, almost anything.

 

The mist limits visibility to about two hundred meters, giving the Salvador Dali landscape a ghostly character

Just after nine, we hit the road. It's dry, visibility is better than expected, but the clouds hang ominously low over the landscape and the surrounding mountain peaks are not visible. Our destination is Paratunka, a modest settlement about 45 km from Petropavlovsk. It will be a journey of about sixty kilometres due north, which will take us about six hours, not counting the stops. We don't yet realize that a smartphone has been left lonely on the breakfast table.

 

While we only see ridges and boulders, potholes and rocks, mud, and snow, Igor sees opportunities aplenty

For now, Igor uses the stream flowing past the campsite as a guide. This means we are driving downstream through what could be euphemistically called a valley. At least, as far as classical terminology can be applied to these strange landscape forms.

Because what stretches outside is an inhospitable volcanic area that defies any description. Erosion has not yet taken hold, and the basalt blocks still exhibit the bizarre, jagged shapes in which they solidified. Meanwhile, mist limits visibility to about two hundred meters, giving the Salvador Dali landscape a ghostly character. Add to that the thick layers of snow in the gullies, the water puddles as large as ponds, and the scattered boulders, and you know that Igor has his hands full in the driver's cab.

But this is more than just a demanding technical course. The art of finding the way in this wilderness is a skill in itself. Mist consistently hampers visibility, so fixating on distant landmarks is not possible. Moreover, this landscape changes almost daily, Vitali knows from experience. Snowbanks melt, streams swell, disappear, or change course. A GPS is of no use under these circumstances. At best, it can tell you where north is.

 

The art of finding the way in this wilderness is a skill in itself

Therefore, we cannot blame Igor when he eventually encounters a snowy slope and must turn back. Traces of other vehicles in the snow sometimes create the illusion that you just have to follow them, but often they run so chaotically that you can't make heads or tails of them. Elsewhere, a snowmobile seems to have been abandoned. Strange.

 

 

There is no sign of any vegetation. Sometimes, red spots on the snow catch our attention. These are red algae that thrive in this harsh environment, thanks to the volcanic dust blown over these snow layers. Because such dust particles are darker than the snow, they absorb a bit more heat and melt some of the surrounding snow. This creates tiny pockets of water where the red algae thrive. These habitats are called cryoconite. For climate change, this is not good news. Because of these dark spots, the snow reflects less sunlight, causing it to warm up and melt faster.

Mist turns our journey into a claustrophobic experience, with new amorphous masses emerging from the mist

The landscape becomes increasingly strange, and also more oppressive. Mist turns our journey into a claustrophobic experience, with new amorphous masses emerging from the mist. Somehow, Igor manages to find his way and skilfully slaloms between the basalt rocks, making good use of relatively flat, snow-covered stretches.

 

Tackling the basalt rocks

But it doesn't always work out smoothly. Sometimes, a pile of basalt rocks blocks the passage, and there's no other option but to tackle that obstacle. Even a pimped Mitsubishi Delica 4WD coming from the other direction struggles with it. Igor lets the jeep pass and then starts tackling it himself. By this time, we have already disembarked, partly to reduce the truck's load of over a ton, and partly because we want to see how Igor handles the task. And he does it with skill. While Vitali walks ahead to scout the route, a cautious Igor navigates his wobbly Kamaz truck almost at a snail's pace over the basalt rocks.

 

Carefully, Igor navigates his wobbling Kamaz truck at almost a snail's pace over the basalt rocks

After over an hour and a half of travelling, we notice the first signs of tundra vegetation. This means that we are gradually leaving behind the volcanic area between the Gorely and the Mutnovsky. The terrain now appears to be more sandy in texture, with loose small stones scattered over volcanic debris. Visibility remains limited to a few hundred meters.

 

 

Climbing the Gorely, as originally planned, is something we decide to skip. Given the weather conditions, it seems highly unlikely that we would see more than the proverbial hand in front of our eyes up there. But Vitali has some alternatives up his sleeve, and the first one is about to happen.

 

 

Because once again, solidified lava flows have emerged, albeit older and more weathered than those we encountered earlier, allowing for more tundra vegetation. This means we find ourselves once again amidst volcanoes. Not giants like the Gorely and the Mutnovsky this time, but rather old, extinct volcanoes such as the Mezhdurechye, the Zhirovaya, and the Kamennaya. Naturally, they too have shaped the landscape in their heyday. But today, for Igor, this is nothing out of the ordinary; the road winds fairly smoothly around all obstacles.

 

 

For us, however, this is a rare opportunity because within those elongated lava flows, impressive tunnels have formed. When lava flows through the landscape during a volcanic eruption, it gradually cools on the outside while remaining very hot inside. Over time, a mantle of solidified lava forms around this glowing hot lava. This creates a perfect insulation, allowing the lava to flow as if through a horizontal thermos flask. Of course, this process eventually comes to an end when the supply of fresh lava stops. What remains are lava tunnels that can sometimes reach enormous dimensions.

 

A breathtaking landscape where tundra vegetation gradually encroaches upon the rugged lava blocks, and the intervening gullies are still filled with snow

 

On foot, we trudge through the snow in search of one of these lava tunnels. The visibility has significantly improved by now. We gaze out over a breathtaking landscape where tundra vegetation gradually encroaches upon the rugged lava blocks, and the intervening gullies are still filled with snow. But we wouldn't even notice the lava tunnel itself if Vitali didn't know exactly where to look. The gigantic opening is mostly covered by a mass of solidified lava.

Two cars could easily pass each other in this lava tunnel

Entrance to lava tunnel

Lava tunnel

What's more, the snow makes it quite challenging to descend into the lava tunnel, even with Vitali's help guiding us down an improvised staircase. Once inside, the impressive dimensions become apparent. The tunnel is estimated to be about fifteen meters wide and six meters high, easily allowing two cars to pass each other. However, it's not entirely safe. The floor is as smooth as a mirror and slippery, while ice crystals sparkle on the ceiling in the sparse light. Carefully, we shuffle deeper into the tunnel. Soon, it becomes narrower and lower, eventually forcing us to crouch to progress into the final hollow space. There, we encounter a vertical wall completely covered in ice.

 

Lava tunnel

Ceiling lava tunnel

Around noon, we continue our journey. Vitali and Christina deem it the perfect moment to provide some entertainment during the ride. On the TV screen, we are shown photos from their visit to the Mutnovsky in 2013. Six years ago, the weather conditions were exceptionally favourable, with perfect visibility. In short, we see the Mutnovsky as we haven't seen it ourselves, with panoramic views of the impressive crater walls, the towering glacier, and the fumaroles. Vitali wouldn't be Vitali if he didn't also show a video of his personal favourite, the Tolbachik, during its most recent eruption in 2012.

 

In the elongated lava flows, impressive tunnels have formed

 

Rendeer lichen, Arctic willows

About an hour later, the conditions noticeably improve, at least for Igor. There is no longer any doubt that what now stretches out before us will qualify as a road without hesitation. The road surface is clearly visible, elevated slightly above the surroundings to largely avoid waterlogging, and wide enough to allow two vehicles to pass each other effortlessly. There is only one explanation for this – this road connects the geothermal power plant on the slopes of the Mutnovsky with Paratunka. The pylons with electricity cables that appear on our right confirm this suspicion. For us, however, everything remains the same. There are still plenty of potholes and bumps in the road surface to jostle us back and forth in our seats constantly.

Then, the road narrows and gradually begins to ascend. Igor faces numerous bends. Here and there, some snow appears. This means that we have begun the ascent of the Vilyuchinsky Pass. It is the second highest pass in Kamchatka, at 825 meters above sea level, and the last significant obstacle before Paratunka. Reportedly, the view here is phenomenal – you could observe up to nine volcanoes if the weather cooperates – but today, the mist reduces visibility to just a few tens of meters.

What now extends before us would even qualify as a road without any objection from the most critical person

 

What we do see are three-meter-high wooden carved figures. These are totem poles of the Itelmens, the original inhabitants of this area, Christina explains. Such artworks were the object of worship for animistic gods. We're inclined to believe that, but these sculptures are certainly of very recent origin – they weren't here in 2015. It feels a bit ironic, this appropriation of a culture that the Russians themselves have largely destroyed.

 

Totem poles of the Itelmens

The descent is accompanied by some winding, with hairpin turns not being absent either. Once at the bottom, we are surrounded on both sides by dense forests. The apocalyptic backdrop of the volcanoes is now behind us, and the feeling of returning to the inhabited world prevails. Soon Snedznaya Dolina, or the Snow Valley, emerges, a mountain sports centre specialized in active winter holidays – alpine skiing, snowboarding, snowmobiling, heli-skiing, you name it. Christina takes the opportunity to order dinner at our hotel in Paratunka by phone. Because here you have reception for your mobile phone, imagine that.

 

Indian paintbrush		Pedicularis
		Indian paintbrush

Shortly after, we reach the last attraction that Vitali has in store for us, the hot water springs of Verkhne-Paratunka. These are located on the northeastern slope of the Goryachaya, a volcano that supposedly looms somewhere to our left among the clouds. The Goryachaya has not been caught erupting yet, as this type of volcano does not result from an explosion but rather from viscous lava slowly pushed up from the underground and appearing on the surface like an unwanted pimple.

Presently, the Goryachaya remains calm, although it continuously maintains two dozen hot water springs with temperatures ranging from 20 to 70 °C (68 to 158 °F). All this water collects in three streams that cascade down rocky channels. It will be a bit of a climb for us – about seventy meters in elevation – but the path is excellent. Earth steps have been excavated into the slope, and ropes provide some support if needed. It is clear that this place is popular not only among foreign tourists.

It is said that the water owes its healing properties to its high concentration of minerals – 1.35 grams per litre of water

Verkhne-Paratunka – Hot water springs

Thus, we arrive at the spot where a modest bathtub has been created with natural stones. They call it the warm bath, with a water temperature ranging from 38 to 40 °C (100 to 104 °F). Further up is the hot bath, with a temperature of 50 °C (122 °F), but we opt to pass on that. The water is said to owe its healing properties to its high concentration of minerals – 1.35 grams per litre of water. However, there is also a significant amount of arsenic present, so drinking it is not advisable.

 

No tundra vegetation here, but towering, lush plant growth such as Kamchatka meadowsweet and Aleutian ragwort

Kamchatka meadowsweet

Aleutian ragwort

The proximity of water and hot steam has clearly benefited the local vegetation. No tundra growth here, but towering, lush plant life such as Aleutian ragwort with its beautiful, ochre-coloured flowers. Or the Kamchatka meadowsweet, a two-meter-tall herbaceous plant with cream-coloured flowers found exclusively in damp, moderately cold places.

 

Nests of meadow froghoppers

The numerous tiny foam nests also catch the eye, no matter how small they may be. These are the work of nymphs of the meadow froghopper, which produce this foam cocoon themselves to protect against predators and retain the moisture necessary for their development. They derive their food from the plant on which their nest sits. Only when these foam nests are completely dried out will the nymphs emerge as adult insects.

 

Arctic willow

The road keeps improving, and Igor sometimes races through the forests at a chilling speed of 30 to 40 km/h. It's quarter past four, more than seven hours after we set off, when we finally experience the ultimate luxury at Termalnyi – an asphalt road. Unfortunately, the joy is short-lived because five minutes later, we stop in front of our hotel in Paratunka. We immediately bid farewell to driver Igor, guide Vitali, and chef Nadya.

 

 

Tomorrow, a bus will take us to Petropavlovsk, which is 45 km away from here. But first, we will fully enjoy the comforts of civilization, with spacious tables, chairs, beds, and showers. Champagne and vodka are readily brought to the table. Undoubtedly, this has something to do with another birthday celebration.

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Jaak Palmans
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Brown bears like to bathe here