Breaking the Ice - Off the Trails - page 24

Eventually the banya was ready. Banya is a concept very similar to a sauna.
Stones are heated over a wood stove in a small room. Hot water is then thrown
onto the stones to create a steam bath. The temperature can rise to around 120 de-
grees Celsius but usually hovers at about seventy. By beating the skin with birch
branches, and leaving and entering the banya several times, circulation is stimu-
lated, skin pores are cleansed and blood pressure drops. For this reason banya is
used as a form of relaxation. However, the primary purpose is for washing. In most
Russian villages there is no running water so banya is the logical place to wash,
especially in winter when the temperature can drop well below minus thirty.
This banya was probably the most rundown I had ever seen. The overcast sky
was visible through gaps in the roof and walls, providing the only form of light.
Steam rose with a hiss and beads of hot water began to form over my body. I felt
around in the dark until I found a rusty steel tub of warm water and used it to douse
my skin.
Then, while Chris washed, I stood naked in the yard, steam pouring from my
body. My moment of reflection was broken by a petrol tanker that came to a
screeching halt in front of the house. The driver's face appeared at the window.
'Hey mate, have you got a lighter or matches?' he cried, cigarette dangling from
his mouth.
'Um, no … sorry,' I replied.
As he drove off, I scampered back into the warmth. My knee had begun to throb
again.
By the time we rolled out, it was dark and raining again. We waved goodbye to
the man whose name we never learned. With wet hair cooling, we pulled into camp
200 metres from the village and struggled to get a fire going.
I rushed to write in my diary as if it was the only security left in the world. Chris
lay sullen in his sleeping bag. The lack of distance covered had evidently left him
frustrated. His eyes, as they so often did, peered into the night straight past me. I
began to feel that his indifference masked anger, which left me feeling guilty. More
than anything, he was probably thinking of Nat.
As the fire fizzled out in the rain, so too did our morale.
I managed to cover three kilometres the next day, with a clumsily wrapped band-
age on my knee. Then I came to a halt. Chris screwed up his face. I had the feeling
that he suspected a conspiracy or hoax. We were not achieving the daily average,
but there was no choice. We had to stop at the next village.