Snowmobile adventure in Russia? Yes, I snowmobiled Russia, without a doubt the greatest adventure of my life. The invitation to snowmobile in Russia was on the table for years, problem is, I hate flying. So what changed my mind? Lack of snow at home and two friends named Borodin and Roman. You may wonder how one become friends with snow-loving Russians: simply by chance.
RUSSIA SNOWMOBILE ENTHUSIASTS
Snowmobiling is emerging in Russia, big time. Evgeniy Borodin and his wife Olga recognized the importance of organized snowmobiling, and wanting to better understand the inner workings of snowmobile clubs in the United States and Canada, decided to attend the 2012 International Snowmobile Congress in Sturbridge, MA.
In 2011 they sent an email my way, asking if I could find an interpreter while they were at ISC. That’s how I met Roman Shtefan of Westfield, who grew up in Russia and moved to Massachusetts years ago. Roman, who is now a U.S. Citizen, assisted the Borodins during their visit.
Evgeniy, I call him by his last name, Borodin, since it’s easier to pronounce, got the snowmobile bug early and has been a professional snowmobile tour guide in the Ural Region of Russia for eons.
Since snowmobiling is a universal language, we quickly became friends at ISC. He insisted I fly over and ride with him. I said, “some day” not really convinced I could ever make such a grand trip. Four years later, on March 20, 2016, Roman and I landed in Moscow aboard an Airbus jetliner. The non-stop flight was relatively short, about 9 hours, and only cost $404, round trip. No kidding!
MOSCOW: THE CAPITAL OF RUSSIA
As hungry as I am to snowmobile, Roman insists we spend a few days in his hometown, the capital city of the Russian Federation, population 11.9 million. Moscow has a rich blend of historic and modern architecture, it’s beyond impressive. We meet with Roman’s best friends Mike and Max for a night on the town, Moskva style.
Our first day consists of a field trip on the Metro, the subway system, which didn’t sound exciting at first. Once underground, that changed. Every station within the city is an art museum unto itself.
Each time the train door slid open our senses were overwhelmed by absolute beauty. No litter, no unsettling odors. Instead of ugly billboards there were galleries of paintings, mosaics, sculptures and stained glass… in a subway station! Everyone in the city is dressed sharp and is polite.
That night we dined in style aboard a yacht on the Moscow River, floating through the heart of the city under starlight, sipping wine on the Royal Flotilla as it cruises by the Kremlin.
TOUR THE KREMLIN
The next day Roman decides to sneak me deep inside the Kremlin itself, to see what goes on behind the towers and brick walls. Actually, he bought tickets and hired an expert English-speaking guide to lead us on a tour of the historic compound, which traces back to the 12th century.
We stroll past Vladimir Putin’s office on our way to the Kremlin Armory, a staggering museum of antiquities, packed with royal carriages, the gowns of queens, historic armory, treasures and jewels, some dating back to the 5th century.
I learn that many of the riches were hidden, mostly buried, before Napoleon’s invasion in 1812. The Russians defeated the world’s largest army by setting fire to crops, stores and bridges as they fled Moscow, thus denying the French army of basic resources. The tactic worked, as Napoleon had to retreat before winter or face starvation.
Hungry ourselves, we have lunch at a Cuban restaurant, then walk Red Square, the historic downtown marketplace where the colorful onion domes of Saint Basil’s Cathedral dominate the sky. We witness the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where the remains of soldiers killed by invading Nazis in the Battle of Moscow are buried.
On Wednesday we fly to Perm, a two-hour jaunt east, where the Borodins, whom I haven’t seen in four years, greet us. It was an exciting reunion, magical in so many ways.
SNOWMOBILE ADVENTURE IN RUSSIA
Day 1: The first day of our snowmobile adventure in Russia is casual, we leave directly from the driveway of Borodin’s suburban home down the snow-packed road into a series of fields. Igor Zapivalov, an expert snowmobiler and jack of all trades, joins us.
The ride is familiar in some ways, like at home, except the trails connecting fields are mostly footpaths. After getting somewhat acclimated to the big sleds, we stop for lunch at a rustic farm that serves an amazing assortment of homemade meat dumplings, mushrooms, cabbage and other specialties.
From there we travel to the Khokhlovka Museum, which is surprisingly similar to Old Sturbridge Village. The structures date back to the late 1600’s.
The log buildings, which include farmers’ huts, a windmill, and several churches, were dismantled from their original locations within the region and reassembled at the open-air museum. The village is anchored by a historic salt manufacturing plant, the economic driver of that period. Only gold was more precious than salt.
Back at Borodin’s place we hit the sauna, then enjoy a masterfully prepared feast by Olga. Borodin winds his vintage phonograph, spinning records from the 1930’s and 40’s as we indulge in Russian caviar, moose squares with horseradish and puff pastry inside his impressive man-cave. We stay up late, maybe too late, listening to Moscow Nights and other Sinatra-esque recordings from back in the day.
SNOWMOBILE TRIP TO URAL MOUNTAINS
Day 2: This is where the snowmobile adventure in Russia starts, as if traveling to the other side of the world has been anything but. Igor’s Dodge Ram Power Wagon is packed and hitched to the four-place trailer.
He points to the truck and in a thick accent say’s “Hemi.” Trucks like this are non-existent in Russia. It costs more than double what we would pay at home but it’s one of the few vehicles that meet this motorhead’s needs. Snowmobiles are expensive too, the average price in excess of $25,000.
On the way we stop at a roadside vendor, picking up a bouquet of fresh birch branches with leaves still attached and a gallon of bright green fruit drink which I found out later was actually windshield washer fluid. I have no idea what the bouquet of sticks is all about.
Three hours later, just before sundown, we unload at a ski facility in the town of Kizel, at the foot of the Ural Mountains. It was finally time to ride, or so I thought. Within 50 feet the headlight on Roman’s sled goes kaput. “Hey, this is just like snowmobiling at home,” I say. Neither Borodin nor Igor (pronounced Eager) understand the humor. They flip the hood, grunt, replace a fuse, and away we go down a logging road.
MY RUSSIAN NAME IS DEN-YELL
Within few miles we see lights, which turn out to be the logging trucks, one stopped with a mechanic underneath. The road is little more than eight feet wide and the snow banks are just as tall. There is no way to squeeze by. Borodin throws his sled into low range and slowly slices a path straight up the vertical bank, making several calculated up-and-down runs until he’s able to crawl up… then disappear.
It was dark, I wonder if we might have lost our guide to a black hole. A few minutes later Igor’s two-way radio sounds off with Slavic directives. Igor points at me, shouting my name, “Den-Yell,” indicating it’s my turn.
The Lynx Yeti under my fanny is freighted with hundreds of pounds of gear and extra fuel, I have no clue how it handles but I’m guessing like a hippo on skates. I gas-it up the wall, then quickly slam the brakes at the apex. There was indeed a giant hole on the other side, a 40-foot downward slope. Borodin’s flashlight is visible to my left. I follow his path, squeezing through saplings that bow aside to the mighty Yeti. Little did I know that blazing new trails would be the norm.
MOONLIGHT OVER THE URALS
Underway again, the full moon is our guiding light to the Urals. About halfway to camp we stop for a breather. Borodin opens his jumbo saddle bag and presents Roman and I with cork-covered cups, embossed with a polar bear, the seal of Perm. He fills them with hot tea, then delivers a wonderfully warm speech, a toast, welcoming us to his homeland.
We arrive at a domed hunting camp in Rassolny, the architecture which resembles the works of Dr. Seuss. It only adds to the “pinch me, is this real” sensation. An hour later Vlad Klekner and Sergey Valeev walk in, just in time for a dinner of traditional borscht soup, fried squid, rice and liver. These guys are off-road adventurers and recently traveled 26-days-straight by 4×4 on an Arctic expedition to the northern most point in Russia. Sergey opens a jar of his homemade pickled cabbage and makes a toast over Armenian liquor with a wedge of lemon. We hit the bunks early, completely psyched for our first day in the mountains.
SNOWMOBILE SOVIET GHOST TOWN
Day 3: In the morning I find Borodin outside draining gas cans into the sleds and contacting home via his satellite phone, our only source of communication. Wired electricity doesn’t exist, a generator powers everything at the lodge. Cell phones? You must be kidding.
The trip starts along the banks of the Kosva River, we stop briefly by an enormous rock face for photos, then shoot into the woods, breaking trail in 3-4 feet of snow for an hour-plus. Suddenly Borodin slows, looks around, and points a single finger in the air. We all know this means shift into first gear, low range. We are about to travel into something big.
Passing through a line of trees we find abandoned homes, half buried in snow, many crushed to the ground. As we slow, Serg runs into a dilapidated barn, toilet paper in hand. Not a good sign. We travel further into the lost settlement of tiny log homes.
Parking our sleds on Lenin Street, the main drag in the former Soviet ghost town of Bolshaya, we take in the beauty of Oslyanka Mountain. I explore a few deserted cabins in the ghost town while Igor calls back to Serg by walkie-talkie. Igor, who speaks some English, says “not good.” I dig into my bag of tricks for Imodium, something I never travel without, and hand it off to Igor, who delivers the goods. Talk about building international relationships, Sergey and I are now friends for life. You could say I did him a solid!
SLIDESHOW: Snowmobile Adventure in Russia
Russian snowmobilers Igor Zapivalov, Roman Shtefan and Evgeniy Borodin break trail in the Ural Mountains. The elevation hovered around 1,000 meters this day. 
After snowmobiling all day, we hang outside in our shorts after the Russian banya and BBQ chicken and pork, while ignoring the fact the temperatures are in the mid-teens. A logging road led our snowmobile group to the hunting lodge in Rassolny on the Kosva River. There were no utilities at the facility, it was powered by a generator. Evgeniy Borodin rides up Oslyanka Mountain in the Urals as he led our snowmobile adventure in Russia. The Kremlin is packed with history and political intrigue. It’s somewhat like the Smithsonian in Washington, only the artifacts are much older. 
Dan Gould takes a selfie while on a snowmobile adventure in Russia. Dan snowmobiled in Perm and the Ural Mountains after a weeklong tour of Moscow. 
Back where we started: looking back at Mount Oslyanka as we leave the Ural Mountains on the last day of our snowmobile adventure in Russia. 
Anyone who snowmobiles has come across logging trucks. It’s was no different in Russia during our trip back to the City of Perm. 
The Permyak Salty Ears is a sculpture in the City of Perm, paying homage to the worker’s affliction. Salt production is the oldest Russian industry dating back to at least the 1400’s in Perm. The workers carried bags of salt on their shoulders daily, saturating their ears with salt, which caused them to swell and turn bright red. It is said that one could easily distinguish a resident of Perm by looking at their ears. 
Before flying back to Moscow we visited the Perm State Art Gallery’s exhibition of wooden sculptures featuring pieces from the Russian Orthodox Church dating back to the 17th-18th centuries. 
A guide at the Perm State Art Gallery gives a tour of the Christian wooden sculpture exhibit to Dan Gould. The woman had recently completed her studies of the English language and this was the first time she translated for a visitor. 
Igor Zapivalov, Evgeniy Borodin, Roman Shtefan and Dan Gould pose before their first day of snowmobiling in Russia. 
The world famous Bolshoi Theater in Moscow opened in 1825 and was first visited by snowmobilers in 2016! Every event at the Bolshoi is sold out. 
We could see the Tsar’s box from the floor of the Bolshoi Theater. We sat in the top row, just above the VIP suite. 
Soviet era vehicles are still common, especially outside the cities. A version of this UAZ off-road van is still in production. 
We towed the snowmobiles to Kizel Russia, unloading the Dodge Ram at a large ski facility. 
We stop for a steaming cup of tea after snowmobiling halfway to Rassolny. 
Igor Zapivalov fuels his Dodge Ram Power Wagon, a rare truck in Russia. 
We snowmobile through the village of Kytlym which was closed to outsiders during Soviet rule. If you didn’t live in town, you were not allowed entry. “Closed Cities” and “Closed Towns” were secret military locations of the USSR, they weren’t even listed on maps. 
Our rustic cottage is heated by a traditional Russian oven in the center of the living quarters, complete with a warm teakettle. There was no running water or electricity, save for the generator running on occasion. 
Welcome to Kytlym, Sverdlovsk in Russia, where cottage walls are decorated with genuine bear hides. Roman relaxes among friends after a day of snowmobiling. 
Evgeniy Borodin waits for the rest of us to catch up as we leave Kytlym, snowmobiling the power lines along the continental boundary of Asia and Europe in Russia. 
There was plenty of snow in Kytlym, so much that we barely had enough room to park our snowmobiles. 
Fresh morning snow welcomed us outside our cottage in Kytlym, only spitting distance from the Siberian border in Russia. 
A power line running along the Eurasia border seems to go to infinity. The depth of snow in sections was equally deep. 
Originating in north-eastern Siberia, this Siberian Husky wasn’t too far from home. The curious dog watched as we packed our snowmobiles outside the cottage in Kytlym, Russia. 
A bird joins us for lunch during our snowmobile trip in Russia. 
Roman Shtefan enjoys a cigar in a meadow surrounded by evergreens while snowmobiling in the Urals of Russia. 
Roman Shtefan, Igor Zapivalov, Dan Gould and Evgeniy Borodin take a selfie while snowmobiling in the Urals. Igor presented Dan with a bottle of wine in a collectable ceramic container that depicts an old CCCP soldier in the winter. 
There are no maintained snowmobile trails in Russia, so getting stuck isn’t a big deal, it’s part of the adventure. It took a few attempts, but Evgeniy Borodin piloted his Ski-Doo Scandic from the slush after packing the snow in front of it. 
I enjoyed my time riding the Lynx Yeti snowmobile in Russia. The 600SDI engine and 156-inch long, wide-track sled with fully articulating rear suspension was perfectly matched to our needs. 
The Lynx Yeti is a known workhorse. Evgeniy Borodin proves it has a playful side, too. 
Snow is halfway up the windows of our cottage bedroom in Kytlym. Note the tall handmade fence outside. 
Breakfast in Kytlym Russia consists of three eggs, six pieces of ham, a loaf of bread, crepes with sour cream and tea. 
Mother Nature leaves its mark in the strangest ways. Tree snowballs are a common sight as the elevation climbs in the Urals. 
We discover an old fuel supply tank as we snowmobile in the Ural Mountains along the Euro-Asia border. 
We carefully cross our sleds over a rocky brook on the famous Babinov Road of the Ural Mountains during our snowmobile trip. 
The GPS displays our location at the geographic border separating the continents of Europe and Asia in Russia. We were snowmobiling on Babinov Road in the Ural Mountains established in 1597. 
A large sign welcomes snowmobilers (and everyone else) to Kytlym, Sverdlovsk, 160 miles west of Siberia. 
Russian snowmobilers choked on their cigars at the surprising sound of an American voice. They insisted we have a welcoming toast of vodka, a flattering gesture, but nyet it was. 
Roman Shtefan finds himself waist-deep in snow. It was here that we appreciated the 156-inch long, wide-track Ski-Doo snowmobiles, which were packed to the gills with supplies. 
Remnants of a log home still stand in a meadow as we snowmobile towards the village of Kytlym, Russia. 
Igor Zapivalov and Evgeniy Borodin take a break near an old barn during our snowmobile ride over the Ural Mountains. 
Never walk far from the packed snow of your sled or risk being trapped. Igor Zapivalov and Evgeniy Borodin take a drink of water in a tree-dotted meadow. 
Snowmobiles and parts are very expensive in Russia, so great efforts are taken to maintain and repair the sleds. This cracked snowmobile windshield was stitched together like a baseball and will last for years to come. 
After a day in the saddle, Vlad Klekner entertains us with guitar and traditional Russian folk songs. 
An old Soviet-made accordion lies on the floor of an abandoned log home near Oslyanka Mountain in the Urals. 
Get your snowmobile stuck in the United States or Russia and the response is the same. Laughter and humiliation! 
Snowmobile the Russia ghost town of Bolshaya at Oslyanka Mountain. 
Snowmobile adventure down Lenin Street in the ghost town of Bolshaya at the foot of Oslyanka Mountain in the Ural District of Russia. 
Sliced salo, smoked pork fat, complements cooked lamb and crepes heated under the hood of our sleds. Everything was delicious. Tea is the most popular drink in Russia. 
Sergey Valeev and Vlad Klekney check their snowmobiles as we move above the timberline of Oslyanka in the Ural Mountain range of Russia. 
Sergey Valeev and Vlad Klekney relax on their sleds in the Ural Mountains. 
Abandoned homes, half buried in snow, can be found in the ghost town of Bolshaya at the foot of Oslyanka Mountain in the Ural District of Russia. Igor Zapivalov snowmobiles by a Soviet era truck that hasn’t turned a wheel in decades, in the abandoned village of Bolshaya. 
Roman Shtefan snowmobiles past an old Soviet military vehicle in the Ural Mountains. 
Roman Shtefan and Dan Gould take a break during snowmobile adventure in the abandoned village of Bolshaya, Russia. 
Manpupuner Rock Formations at the top of Oslyanka Mountain are a signature destination in the Russian Urals for snowmobilers and mountain climbers. 
Roman Shtefan takes it all in as we prepare to snowmobile along the Kosva River into the Ural Mountains. 
With no gas stations or services in reach, snowmobile supplies had to be hauled to Rassolny camp in the Ural Mountains. Evgeniy Borodin and Igor Zapivalov watch as Vlad Klekner and Sergey Valeev pack. 
An old outhouse stands tall in Bolshaya at the foot of Oslyanka Mountain. 
Our snowmobile group poses for photos in front of a giant rock face on the Kosva River into the Ural Mountains. 
From his snowmobile, Igor Zapivalov takes in a view of a valley in the Ural Mountains. 
Igor Zapivalov and Evgeniy Borodin check the satellite phone as we prepare for a saddlebag snowmobile trip over the Ural Mountains towards the Asian border of Russia. 
The line between earth and sky disappears in the fog as snowmobiles ride Oslyanka Mountain in the Urals. 
The domed hunting camp in Rassolny Russia had plenty of character and was the perfect place for snowmobilers to relax. 
Evgeniy Borodin leads our snowmobile adventure above the timberline of Oslyanka Mountain where the horizon often disappears. 
Snowmobiling in the Ural Mountains requires you to carry extra fuel and provisions. Evgeniy Borodin prepares for day 4 of our trip. In the background is the banya in Rassolny. 
Snowmobilers on Lenin Street among dozens of weather-damaged buildings that still stand in the abandoned town of Bolshaya, Russia. 
We snowmobile in the abandoned Soviet village of Bolshaya. Log homes are still common in rural areas throughout the country. 
Snowmobilers are fascinated by the rows of abandoned log homes in the old village near Oslyanka Mountain. 
After snowmobiling all day, we spin records from the 1930’s and 40’s on Evgeniy Borodin’s vintage Russian phonograph. 
Borodin collects vintage phonograph records of the Soviet Union from the 1930’s and 40’s. 
During our snowmobile ride in Perm we stop at a farmer’s barn which features traditional Russian home-cooked meals. 
A masterful feast prepared by Olga Borodin for her snowmobile guests. 
Khokhovka Museum in Perm Russia includes 23 unique monuments from the 17th through the early 20th centuries. The windmill was built in 1707. 
We snowmobile to the Khokhlovka Museum where we tour the Church of Transfiguration built in 1707. The log buildings at the museum were constructed without nails, screws or other metal fasteners. Amazing! 
Dan Gould and Evgeniy Borodin on their snowmobile adventure in Russia. 
This compact Russian snowmobile is designed for hunters, fishermen and farmers. It’s a scooter for the snow with a trailer in tow. 
The Moscow subway system features artwork from the former Soviet Union. Dan Gould poses under an image of Vladmir Lenin at Kievskaya Station. 
The iconic domes of Saint Basil’s Cathedral come into view upon entering Red Square in Moscow. Another photo opportunity for Dan Gould while in Russia Capital. This was more than the average snowmobile tour! 
Grand chandeliers hang from an ornately decorated ceiling in the marble subway station in downtown Moscow. 
The Moscow Metro features galleries of paintings, mosaics, sculptures, stained glass and other works of art, as seen at Belorusskaya Station. 
The modern Moscow skyline is an impressive mix of glass and steel. 
The Intourist hotels in Moscow were beautifully modern and well appointed. 
A guided tour of the Kremlin is a must. The Kremlin Armory is simply breathtaking. 
We fly over Lillehammer, Norway en route from New York City to Moscow for our snowmobile adventure in Russia. 
The display screen on the back of the airliner’s seat lets us monitor the flight from New York City to Moscow at over 550 MPH. 
There are many American companies in Russia. Dan Gould grabs a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts in downtown Moscow. The Boston accent of the counter staff was noticeably missing. 
Dan Gould poses by Manpupuner rock formation while snowmobiling to the peak of Oslyanka Mountain in the Ural Mountains of Russia. 
A tour of the Kremlin and the churches within include Cathedral of the Annunciation, Dormition Cathedral, Cathedral of the Archangel and St. Basil’s Cathedral
SNOWMOBILE RUSSIA: OSLYANKA MOUNTAIN
With that behind us we ascend Oslyanka. It goes from gentle incline, to steep, to vertical. There isn’t a trail or marker in sight. Borodin advises to follow his path and never get off the throttle. I go second, barely keeping him in sight. The depth of snow varies from a few feet to bottomless. Woot!
It becomes apparent that a few in the group are stuck somewhere below. Borodin and Igor go back to help, leaving me atop a mountain ridge in Russia, all by myself. I hope they come back.
Everyone finally makes it to the ridge, just above the timberline, where we break for lunch. Dark bread with a distinct molasses flavor is complimented with slices of soft cheese, almost butter-like. I ask what kind of cheese is this? They are amused by my limited palate. It’s sliced pig fat, I’m told, smoked to perfection, a high energy snack. I’m so hungry I pretend not to understand and simply enjoy my cheese.
Stuffed like hogs, we ride up a never-ending slope into the heavens. Visibility decreases rapidly but Borodin leads us through a lunar surface of snow, rock and ice, piloted by his sixth sense of terrain interpretation. The line between earth and sky disappears in fog, when a couple of dark objects make their omnipresence known. At the peak are natural rock towers known as the Manpupuner Rock Formations, somewhat reminiscent of Stonehenge. We celebrate as if we discovered the prehistoric monument for all mankind.
THE RUSSIAN BANYA
Back at the dome dinner brings a few surprises. The table is decorated with pickled onions and cabbage, and whole salted fish, as in uncooked with eyeballs staring back at you. Delicious, I say! Sergey supplies the entertainment, plucking an acoustic guitar, as we move on to a bowl of log-man stew. They tell me that a spoon will stand up on it’s own if it’s good stew, and it does.
What I thought was dinner was apparently nothing more than a snack before the banya, a traditional wood-fired sauna with an adjoining room to hang out and continue the feast. After sweating it out, my new friends run outdoors and dive into the snow. Crazy Russians. Not to be outdone, I follow suit.
That’s when they ask if I’ve ever had a real banya? It takes little more than a blank stare to answer their question. Back we go into the 199 degree sauna, except this time they are beating the daylights out of my back with those mysterious birch branches which are dipped in boiling water the moment before impact. The ritual continues, this time drenching the tree limbs in ice water and whacking some more. It’s invigorating, it improves circulation, and it dates back to A.D. 906.
In case you missed it, banya night consist of food and more food. Sergey slices cold-smoked deer meat that he hunted and prepared himself. He’s proud to share with us. The conversation of the day’s snowmobile adventure quickly turns to stories from past rides.
Borodin listens as Vlad and Igor tell jokes. Roman is interpreting as fast as he can. Later we hang outside in our shorts, barbecuing chicken and pork, as if it’s a balmy July evening, not 15 F. These guys love winter.
SNOWMOBILE GEOGRAPHIC BORDER OF EUROPE AND ASIA
Day 4: Vlad and Sergey head home while the rest of us prepare for an overnight saddlebag trip deep into the Ural Mountains. Not long after veering onto a cart road we find a group of cigar smoking Russian sledders.
This will be the last time we meet other snowmobilers. We stop, and of course they all know Borodin. We’re in the middle of nowhere and yet he knows everyone! Turns out he’s guided them on several snowmobile expeditions before, introduced them to this very riding area. They easily figure out I’m from the United States, then insist we have a toast of Russian vodka. Truly a warm welcome but I still had bacon caught between my teeth from breakfast, and we don’t drink on the trail, so we politely decline.
SNOWMOBILE ADVENTURE IN RUSSIA BABINOV ROAD
Continuing on the cart road we come at a halt where the trail cuts across a shallow valley. This is the geographic border separating the continents of Europe and Asia. We are riding Babinov Road, established in 1597. It was the first direct route linking Moscow to Siberia over the Ural Mountains, opening trade and allowing Russia colonization of the region. Tsar Feodor, son of Ivan the Terrible, was so impressed with the flow of commerce that he excused Artemy Babinov from paying taxes ever again.
It’s safe to assume the famous explorer never imagined that snowmobilers from the other side of the planet would be indebted to his trail 419 years later, but we are.
After cruising in fresh snow for a period far longer than I’m accustomed to, Borodin slows, then cuts to the right, directly into the brush. We follow him, aiming the sleds towards a distant stand of trees, then into a field, discovering another abandoned village of log homes. This one far more deteriorated than the other, and the snow is getting deeper.
BOON-DOCKING IN DEEP RUSSIAN SNOW
A half hour passes and Borodin slows again. He stares at his handlebar mounted GPS, looks back at us, then disappears into a narrow gap between the evergreens. If we were boondocking before, what the heck are we doing now? I understand there are no trails in this part of the world but this is extreme. There isn’t a single clue of anyone ever traversing here, we are making our way through thick forest, muscling the machines between obstacles in the narrowest of space.
The trees open up a bit and we pop onto a cart road, but there is a 15-foot wide washout, about four feet deep. Shifting into low range, we ever so gracefully crawl down the ledge into the rocky stream. It takes Borodin several attempts to break the steep snowbank on the other side, which makes it easier for us. Igor, who takes up the caboose in case anyone needs help, crosses last. His Ski-Doo smells like a roadside grill and it isn’t some new 2-stroke oil. It’s time for shish kabob, cooked to perfection on Igor’s exhaust pipe, some of the best I’ve ever had.
SNOWMOBILE ADVENTURE IN MOTHER RUSSIA
The average elevation hovers around 1,000 meters today, about 3,200 feet. The snow deepens to the point that we have to stand to keep the sleds from tipping. We are riding 156-inch long, wide-track sleds with fully articulating rear suspension, the epitome of stability, yet it feels as though we are performing an Olympic routine atop a balance beam.
Terrain varies from hilly meadows to dense stands of trees. It’s snowmobile heaven. It’s sensory overload. This is snowmobiling in Mother Russia!
A stop for tea traps us in waist-deep fluff. Jumping up and down drills you to armpit depth instantly. In order not to drown, one must walk on snow already packed by the Camoplast tracks, but even then gravity plays a dirty trick once in a while, pulling you to the other side of the earth, which in this case, would be somewhere near New Hampshire.
WELCOME TO KYTLYM SLEDHEADS
An impressive monument welcomes us to Kytlym, a rural village of log homes contrasted by a backdrop of modern apartments, about 160 miles west of Siberia. During Soviet rule, it was a closed city that didn’t even appear on maps. Our rustic cottage is heated by a traditional Russian oven in the center of the living quarters, complete with a warm teakettle. We settle in for a home-cooked meal presented by the innkeeper.
It’s been a long day, I inquire about the facilities. I’m told to go out the front door, take a right towards the banya… and there you go. So, I grab my favorite snowmobile magazine, take a few steps towards the door and find myself being ridiculed with laughter. Seems I misjudged the opulence of our lodging. I was given a flashlight and a roll of paper, then warned not to lose my balance once inside the outhouse. Balance? I don’t recall the travel brochure mentioning this.
With that over, I settled in for the night, dozing off in a wood-heated cottage with a giant bearskin tacked to the wall.
VAST RUSSIAN SNOWMOBILE TERRITORY
Day 5: There is nothing like waking to six inches of fresh snow, especially if you have nothing better to do than ride all day. Snow is already halfway up the windows of our cottage and piled 6-8 feet high along the castle-like palisade fence. There isn’t a snow blower in sight, only shovels. The ladies that run this place are to be respected.
My breakfast consist of three eggs, six pieces of ham, a loaf of bread, crepes with sour cream and tea. Igor and Borodin eat fried eggs in one gulp, an efficient technique I’d never seen before. I couldn’t eat a fraction of it, then became concerned about the ability to lace my boots without injury.
Today we play in the big-boy sandbox. It starts on what I would describe as the world’s longest set of power lines. The territory in this region of Russia is vast, it goes on forever. We simply ride wherever we want – wherever it makes sense. The terrain is a hilarious mix of mounds and gullies, an infinite playground of fluff.
RUSSIAN CURSE WORDS
Roman, who is off to my right, vanishes. It looks as though he got sucked into the center of the universe. There must have been juniper bushes far below that gave way. Igor radio’s Borodin to wait up, we had a major extraction to perform. With a manufacturer’s dry weight of 700 pounds, plus the custom gas rack and gear we schlep, this Super Wide-Track weighs at least 1,000 pounds, which sounds far worse than 450 kilos these guys are estimating.
Panting like Siberian Huskies in August, we strip down to our t-shirts and swear in Russian – which sound really bad – until we finally coax the winter mule free.
The rest of our day is spent exploring high elevation meadows with a few long breaks for socializing, which can be somewhat like a game of charades. The rules do allow drawing stick figures in the snow. Borodin has a subtle but deliberate sense of humor, which pretty much describes his snowmobile philosophy. He is prepared to the max, yet unfazed by dips in the trail. He wishes fellow snowmobilers in Russia would organize like the New Hampshire Snowmobile Association and develop a trail system but most don’t understand the benefits yet. In that regard, he is a pioneer in his country.
Before heading back to camp we fool around, carving corners, laying the sleds over on the side, with several notable fails. These big rigs were never intended to be play machines and the added weight of supplies only amplify their utility roots, but it’s fun. Roman and I agree, we are coming back to ride again.
SNOWMOBILE TSAR OF THE URAL MOUNTAINS
Day 6: The logging road on the return trip is freshly groomed… but wait, there aren’t any groomers here. We zip along for miles, carving our way along the only real trail of the entire week. Next to a stack of logs is a bulldozer. My comrade Borodin, anticipating that a week of logging operations would have turned the road into a rutted mess, arranged to bulldoze the entire trail for our final ride back. He truly is the Tsar of the Ural Mountains.
BOLSHOI THEATER
Roman and I wing back to Moscow for one last night before going home, taking in the opera Carmen at the world famous Bolshoi Theater.
The words “opera” and “snowmobile” aren’t often mentioned in the same story-actually this may be the first time ever-but it was nothing short of a spectacular cultural experience, another unforgettable moment.
They say it ain’t over until the fat lady sings and nothing could have been closer to the truth. I think she waved goodbye.
RUSSIA: THE GREAT SNOWMOBILE ADVENTURE
If you’re interested in a snowmobile adventure in Russia, connect with my friend Evgeniy Borodin via Facebook.
Photos by Dan Gould
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