The next point of interest was Lake Baikal, or as it is more correctly described by the Russians, the “Baikal Sea.”  We approached this famous lake on a very cold Sunday evening, and long before we reached its shores the clear cold depths of the water gave evidence of its presence in the changed atmosphere.  A furious gale was blowing across the lake from the west, which lashed huge waves into fury and foam as they beat in endless confusion on the rockbound shore.  Blinding snow mixed with the spray gave the inky blackness of the night a weird and sombre appearance.  Our Cossack attendant, Marca, droned a folk-song about the wonders of the Baikal, which, when interpreted by my liaison officer, fitted the scene to a fraction.  We put up the double windows, listed the doors and turned in for the night.  I was fearful that we should leave the lake before morning and so fail to get a daylight view of this most interesting part of our journey.  We all awoke early to find the scene so changed as to appear almost miraculous.

The strange light of these northern zones was gently stealing over an immense sea of clear, perfectly calm, glassy water, which enabled us to locate the whiter coloured rocks at enormous depths.  A fleecy line of cloud hung lazily over the snow-capped mountains.  The Great Bear nearly stood on his head, and the Pole Star seemed to be almost over us.  The other stars shone with icy cold brilliance and refused to vanish, though the sun had begun to rise.  And such a rising!  We could not see that welcome giver of warmth and life, but the beautiful orange and purple halo embraced half the world.  From its centre shot upwards huge, long yellow streamers which penetrated the darkness surrounding the stars and passed beyond into never-ending space.  Gradually these streamers took a more slanting angle until they touched the highest peaks and drove the cloud lower and lower down the side of the mountains.  I have been on the Rigi under similar conditions, but there is nothing in the world like an autumn sunrise on Lake Baikal.  I stopped the train ostensibly to allow water to be obtained for breakfast, but really to allow the men to enjoy what was in my opinion the greatest sight in the world.  Some of the men were as entranced as myself, while others (including officers) saw nothing but plenty of clean fresh water for the morning ablutions.  We all have our several tastes even in His Majesty’s Army.

Rumour says there are exactly the same fish to be found in Lake Baikal as in the sea, with other varieties which represent ordinary fresh-water types.  I do not believe there is any authority for these statements.  Sea gulls of every known category are certainly to be found there, and wild duck in variety and numbers to satisfy the most exacting sportsman.