Kyzyl Weather

Tuva Travel 2003 - Episode II
Tales from the Todzha
Devan Miller

Mon, 28 Jul 2003

Dear Friends and Everyone,

As usual It’s hardest to begin, but like the surprise rain storm that just blasted in to Kyzyl sending everyone in the courtyards running for cover I’ll do my best to run with spontaneity and pour like the rain! I think it’s been a couple of weeks since the last entry which is about the schedule I’d hoped to keep. Lots to tell so here it is....

So it took a while before the eye of the needle between nature’s forces and our human modes of transportation opened wide enough for us to make the journey to the barely accessible northern region of Tuva called Todzha. Those of you who know the forests of the Pacific Northwest and wetter parts of Northern California can possibly imagine best the kind of mountainous forest we gradually became immersed in throughout an entire day of travel beginning on the bank of the Yenisei near the center of Asia monument.

There are three ways that folks get to the Todzha, four if you count helicopters. By Boat (12 hours up, 7 down), Plane (1 hour) or by Monster Machine (18 hours on some of the worst roads imaginable). Our first choice was boat of course, there hadn’t been enough rain to get the boat through an upper part of the river so we had to just wait for the rains or take the plane --- we thought. Turned out that after two half days of waiting at the airport for the weather to get good enough to fly they canceled all flights for the week. We only considered the truck option for about an hour before giving in to wait for rain....

From the journal (revised):

We are on the crowded littlie sardine or possibly sturgeon of a hydrofoil. Lots of kids just boarded, on their way to the summer camp we have heard about. Turned out to be the place we were going as well called Azas at lake of same name. Another flurry of noise as more people show up and try to squeeze into every crevice. The boat is overbooked and now that the engine has started some are scrambling to get off.....

Here’s a side-line to allow the beautiful
present moment to have a say: In just the
time it has taken to write this the storm
which seemed to appear like an Apache
crown dancer instantaneously from the
north has now apparently gone east and
left the late day light to illuminate the
Immaculate concept of clean, clear energy
everywhere!

The engines roaring, we are moving against the strong tide at a pretty fast clip. The rain still falls. It’s been raining on and off for the last 24 hours or more. Heading up the Yenisey soon to become the Biy-Khem. Vast golden rolling steppes giving way quickly to meditative mountains. Lichen covered cliffs, with small caves. Japanese landscape looking rocks forming walls and peaks of moss, pines and birch, apparently endless varieties of plants whose details pass in a blur. Willows along the banks and river bars. Rocks of warm amber-grey pink and brown punctuated with chunks of white and slate grey.

The geology I’ve seen in the brief time spent in parts of the south, west and now north of Tuva are incredible and varied. Still I’m amazed thinking of the 40 types of building materials found here.

Thoughts along the way:

Yesterday I received a couple of follow up messages from a dendrochronologist fellow named Wayne Hamilton who I met while living in the Port Angeles harbor aboard my father’s boat. I had left a note saying ‘please e-mail me’ on his car which displayed a ‘Tuva or Bust’ bumper sticker (Title of book by Ralph Leighton about he and Richard Feynman’s pursuit of an adventure in Tuva). So we had an interesting conversation at the time over tea about our very different connections to this far away land. For him as a scientist the account of Feynman’s insatiable curiosity about a place whose capital is spelled K-Y-Z-Y-L was a wonderful inspiration and it was the metaphorical Tuva that he so enjoyed visiting in his own scientific work. If anything I live my life in the way I do to make a good story and as my organic farming mentor Doug Hendrickson has said for the pursuit of usefull-ness.... and happiness I’ll add.

The gist of Wayne’s messages were; ‘Can I get your journals off to the www.FoTuva.org  for publishing?’ ‘Yes, after they are cleaned up a bit’ and could I possibly find a way to get a circular cross-section of a 400+ year old conifer without killing one. I.E. from a logging operation or? Well I just had to start imagining. Thinking that with this new layer of focus when around old forests and ecologist/natural resource specialists of Siberia maybe I would encounter such a tree that had just fallen after a lightening strike atop a nice dry hilltop where the rings would have grown tight enough to fit all 400 in my day pack. No such luck in the Todzha I would find out later.

10:46 p.m. and there is still
a "Naples" yellow,
soft blue and amber,
like window glow at dusk
in the northwest sky/
There’s something that happens
when visiting any culture foreign
to us as we perceive events. We make
assumptions and sometimes understand
things backwards or just miss the truth
entirely and our mind creates something
to fill in the gap.

Navigating with questions I have just
avoided such a creation.
Khima was telling a story about her
Husband Orlan’s brother who is a
Neurologist. I <B>heard that he had just
rushed off to a powerful arjan (salubrious
spring) in an area of the Todzha accessible
only by helicopter or 4 legged modes.
To bring a stroke victim there for
spontaneous healing.

What actually happened was the reverse,
a man staying in this area who had eaten/
a-lot got a bit too much heat from the powerful/
spring and well, had stroke, coma and a rushed/
trip to the conventional hospital in Kyzyl.
I wonder how often anthropologists do this?

More notes on Perception:

A spring rolling down from a picturesque valley. The hydro-foil cabin becoming incredibly stuffy. Carelessly, a man tosses an empty plastic chip bag out of the window to begin its tumble toward the Arctic. Maybe it’s more strange that we tumble against the tide and rapids toward the sources of the river. I listen to Manu Chao on mini-disc as the condensation drips and the shrimp flavored chips fly.

Just went through a narrow passage of extreme rapids with waves high enough to splash all the windows clean for a brief time. The forests have become much bigger and like a last out post before the rapids stood a small cabin, a boat dock with smaller hydrofoil. We stopped there briefly so the crews could talk and the dogs could bark. As we passed through the rapids a feeling of doing the impossible came over me and an excitement very close to fear. The feeling of just barely making it on our engine power. Imagining what would happen if the captain for a moment became out of alignment with the direction of the current and gave the river trenches a moment of slack with the vessel. Maybe ending up like the little rusted wreck we passed right after coming ten feet from a giant partly submerged boulder. Now maybe 40 minutes later we are passing meadow lands and newer forest on the flat bars of a large valley. Grassy mounds crawling along like a heard of sheep. Rolling mountains sparsely covered in trees as if in Oregon.

Lunch and Markets/Produce in Kyzyl:

We’ve just finished a wonderful lunch thanks to Khima’s impeccable planning. Last night she sent Amir and I out shopping in the neighborhood for a frozen chicken, some bread and cheese. Around the tenements there are many shops with a variety of goods. All put together within a few blocks you have the contents of a supermarket. The prices are relatively the same regardless if the place looks like a corner store or a market place. Most fresh produce is sold outside by vendors from small home farms in the country. The growing season is of course short, but very good for growing. Plenty of rain and usually heat (this summer has had some unusually cooler weather when the rains have come, folks say.) Potatoes, cabbage, onions, beets, carrots, tomatoes, eggplant, strawberries and garlic are all abundant.

Speaking of chickens, we had a laugh the other night when I decided that I’d bring home another chicken and all I could find were the leg/thigh portions. I got them home and Khima insisted that this was an American chicken (literally imported) not a Tuvan chicken (which are better, raised a bit more caringly I would guess).

The Stretch to Toora-Khem and Azas

Aside from the several stops in villages along the way to have a stretch the most interesting thing was the tug ferry that shuttled us over the shallowest portion of the river in three groups and towed the boat itself probably dragging it over the rocks a bit.

We finally arrived in Toora-Khem in the early evening and after waiting for the Volkswagen-sized mini-van to get a repair 13 of us piled in and were off on another Tuvan country road at sunset cramped but trying to view the incredible unfolding scenery. The van just about and got stuck in the mud and tipped over but the driver/camp director unflinchingly maneuvered us through.

We arrived at Camp Azas in the dark, hungry and tired. After getting situated in our rooms we sat down to a meal of sausage, salty fish, noodles, cookies, tea and bread. There was a bit of confusion when Amir and I got to our room. We had been told that just for tonight another man would be there as well. There were three beds, one made, one about to be made and another covered in smoked fish. Of course I tried for the made bed close to the window. The guy who had been there for a few days already came in and kindly told me that this was his bed then quickly started packing up the fish. The bed itself wasn’t much of a prize, very institutional and hung like a hammock. I tried my best to exercise good humor, but found myself irritated and already judging the situation and the place for not fitting my expectations. The rooms were really quite unpleasant and served as a nice last resort for resting when it was too cold, wet or buggy outside. The up-side to this was that I wanted to spend every last minute I could outside exploring the forests, hiking, swimming, picking berries and sitting to write or meditate in the meadows or on the dock.

At Home in the Blueberries at Arjan Nogan-Khol

This place deserves some sensuous description, and yes I wrote another romantic Siberian letter in the nude from here. What can I say, I was born nude and sometimes miss those hot summery days in California, just me my shoes and a running hose.

I think the mosquitoes are taking a break for a while to watch the sunset. We are back from Nogan-Khol certainly one of my favorite places in Tuva so far. Three kilometers from Azas, hiking through beautiful Taiga on a typical Tuvan country road, add some extra black mud from the rich top soil. Close to the lake there is an area of rolling hills where groups of Tuvans are camped in tents (definitely where I would stay if I return again). The entrance to the recreation area of the lake and the sacred Arjan has a lovingly constructed entry gate/sign, then a covered shelter and stairway. Below is a beautifully cared for site where icy salubrious spring water streams from halved, hollowed out trees in a network of flowing fountains. When we arrived the branches of a fallen tree were the center of a nature alter for fabric prayer ties and small sincere offerings. The water is absolutely icy and pure and flows down to the warmish, shallow lake which is beautifully clear and a greenish tint because of the mineral mud on the lake floor. When pulled up the mud is a white-tan color and is rubbed all over the body and allowed to dry. It claims to heal arthritis, healthy for the joints. The muddied bathing area looks like beautiful milk, I loved swimming through it with my eye’s open, seeing the white liquid light.

The lake is surrounded by Taiga forest. I sit on a dry mossy mound above a little bog estuary that is a haven for sedges, grasses, moss and a myriad of beautiful plants, flowers and some young trees. Butterflies are dancing around on the luscious shining wet moss --- orange and purple just like the flowers in the meadows and fields we pass along the road here. Gentle, calming breezes pool an energetic and meditative feeling throughout the landscape. The mid-day sun warm, but insulated by a thin cloud cover.

After convincing Khima that I would be fine staying here and returning alone I set out to see the area west of the swimming hole and trails. I found myself stumbling into an absolute blueberry heaven and once again imagined myself home in the Olympics doing the same. Wishing Liz was here to share the experience.

I feel so grateful to be here, filling my senses with nothing but nature and my book of writings. The rest are probably having lunch now. I am happily satiated with berries, red currants, pure cold healthy water and the sounds and smells of big forest. I feel safe walking around in these forests, it’s true they are foreign and I really don’t know enough of their rules, but still they feel familiar.

So there’s an incredible amount of material to cover in this here journal I’ve been keeping so I’ll summarize once again to provide a platform to elaborate on later.

Into the Tuvan style Tee Pee with the summer camp kids, cover made from giant tree bark. Given tea (in a sincerely soiled cup). After all their questions, sang them the three styles of khoomei I know, which inspired one of them to sing khoomei as well. I told them I knew only one American song and it’s about ice cream and I will sing it but only if they will all sing afterward. I did my cheap imitation of Tom Waits’ Ice Cream Man. Then after some deliberation the girls went for it with a familiar sounding song. Then the Accordion showed up with one of the older boys who played and sang some rounds of one of my new favorite songs called Tuva Cherim (Tuvan Land) as the fire crackled in the center. This tune has such a sweet melody that if you need any reason to love Tuvan people and culture, this could be it. I first heard this tune played by Andrei Mongush (from Chirgil Chin) on accordion around the last night’s bonfire at the Ustu-Hure festival.

I associate this song now with a dream I had shortly after the rounds with the kids.

Tuva was actually located in/near the center of the U.S.,
but actually much closer to Idaho.
The roads of Tuva, my granny Rosie driving,
sunglasses on, looking classy.

Interactions with people I have known and loved.
From my old home town Claremont to San Francisco and
Port Angeles, something about art shows, all very exciting.
Some personal elements regarding love and companionship.

I was very happy, bringing the realization of Tuva to my people
The grasses of the Tuvan hillsides sang to me.
I just knew their song. Soft, serious and humorous all at once.
What a joy to be here and dream of being there, being here.

I’ll squeeze out this little tale just to leave you hanging on the edge.

After a morning trip to Nogan-Khol It became rainy for a while around lunch. Most of us had given in to the warm inebriation of the rainy day bug and gone for a nap. I pulled myself out of the spell after just 40 winks and headed out for a much needed solo hike. I decided to return to the cliffy and rolling hills that over look lake Azas from the north and Nogan-Khol from N.E. We were taken there the day before by a local man my age (31) named Ezir-ool (eagle boy).

On the way here we found the wild berry of the day, strawberry in abundance and learned how to chew pine sap as chewing gum! A new healthy hobby for me! 4 out of 5 dentists would agree. Believe it or not it even turns pink or purple depending on your oral chemistry. Or maybe depending on how long you chew. I’ll be looking for research volunteers later.

So the world was wet and so was I by the time I made it up and down the first hill and then into the much wetter trail-less meadow to the second little mountain. The reason I went so far was that I really wanted to give a valiant effort to the request from Wayne for the tree ring. I finally found a couple of old looking trees, but probably not old enough and certainly standing and alive. I had been practicing counting rings in the forests and around camp for several days and now, in my exhaustion and awe of the vast wilderness and panoramic views I knelt by the tree and asked it how to find it’s age, the thought came, ‘listen, put your ear down low, lower’.

I found the place that felt right and then something between hearing and seeing took place and I counted my way into the center and determined that the tree was about 260 years old. Wonder how close I was? So with that and a mountain meditation I headed back satisfied that this part of the vast Todzha was incredibly wet and not the place to find a slow growing conifer.

To wrap it up for now, I am finally making a real attempt to learn Russian with a tutor and tomorrow will resume my Khoomei lessons with Feodor Tao. Any free time is spent meeting with interesting Tuvans here in Kyzyl and establishing some lasting connections and plans for working together on projects of culture, music and educational exchange. I’ll meet with the Ministry of Culture and Education for the second time sometime this week to offer some ideas I have for creating an international Tuvan culture/music center. Possibly in the San Francisco Bay Area. The Idea has been met with great response here from musicians, academics, scientists etc. I hope the seed will take root and inspire similar enthusiasm back home. I welcome any suggestions, especially from other Friends of Tuva and Tuvan’s living in America.

Best wishes, Devan

P.S. From the maker of the above wild ideas comes this one:

I’d like to offer my most recent series of sculptural paintings that are based on the moving and energetic landscapes and animal forms of the Pacific Northwest up for sale, first come first serve. The goal being to raise some cash to:

1) Provide me with some extra funds to purchase Tuvan Musical Instruments, clothing and artwork.

2) Donate some funds to help rebuild the oldest, biggest Buddhist Temple of Tuva, Ustu-Hure in Chadan. I’ll donate 20-30% to this project.

I have about 6 paintings available which range in the size from 1 sq.ft to 3 sq. ft. (They are definitely and intentionally not perfect squares) built of drift jetsam wood, mill scraps and painted in vibrant colors and earth tones. Raw pigments in acrylic. Some water color paintings are also available.

Unfortunately I can’t send photos by e-mail until I get back. And if you buy a painting it will also be delivered when I return.

These paintings will be sold for $250-500 (usually about $400-900) plus shipping costs.

If you are interested in buying one or committing to one from the next series to be created in the fall and winter please send me an e-mail and we can make arrangements.

[Editor's Note: to save Devan from a perpetual deluge of spam I have not published his email address on this WWW page --- you can email us at the email address for_devan @ fotuva.org and we will forward the email to him.]

Keep in mind that if you want your purchase to be of help with my current projects in Tuva you will have to commit and deposit some cash soon. I’ll likely leave here in 3 weeks for Lake Baikal.

Please don’t think that you _have to_ buy a painting to be supportive of my work or to rescue me from Siberia. Do it if it’s affordable and meaningful to you.