 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Today, though, we are hundreds of miles north of Verkhoyansk, in the river
village of Belaya Gora ("White Mountain"), on the middle reaches of the
Indigirka. As we return from a hike, Vasily Posnikov throws new wood on the
fire in front of his tiny wooden hut. Soon he's telling
stories of the old
days: how the Yakuts came north centuries ago and slowly pushed the Even people
towards the Arctic Sea. He also says he's invoked the spirits to bless our
visit.
Later we all gather around a small table for delicious fish soup and the inevitable round of vodka toasts. The sun has gone down only a short time ago, yet it is already midnight.   
|
