The station is located in the middle of the taiga on a small river and is comfortably furnished. There is even a log cabin sauna with a small footbridge to the river, where a hole has been cut into the mighty ice sheet for ice bathing. Valentina, the resolute cook, a soul of a person, welcomes us with a hot soup.
We have barely made ourselves comfortable when the door opens and a group of young people with frosty faces stumble into the room with an icy breeze. With their old-fashioned polyester ski suits, they look just like the ones we met at the train station in St. Petersburg. They are led by a giant called Alexander, as we soon learn. His broad face is blackened with soot and covered in small wounds. He has an old, blood-soaked bandage around his right hand, which he holds out to everyone in the room for a hearty handshake of greeting. With a thunderous voice, he directs his companions to join us at the table, and even before everyone has taken their seats, the bottles are there and a loud fraternization party is underway. We learn that they have only come to the station for a short time to warm up; they are actually living in tents in the forest, along with around a thousand other young people from St. Petersburg and Moscow. The whole thing is called "Sapoljarnaja" and is a kind of adventure vacation with ski tours, orienteering and all kinds of other exercises in the wintry countryside. It is comparable to the scouts here and has been a tradition there since the Soviet era. This pioneering culture is popular and is still very popular.
We are surprised that they are sleeping in tents, as the temperature here drops to below -30°C at night. Because of the cold, they have of course tried to make a fire, which is where the injuries come from, but unfortunately the low-growing forest here doesn't provide any decent firewood, especially as there is meters of snow. Kerosene is not ideal either. It produces a lot of soot and hardly any heat. But with the right attitude and a lot of good humor, everything is half as bad. The group has now thawed out and giggles approvingly. We are impressed and a little embarrassed. After all, we are far better equipped with our high-tech expedition gear and live here in the warmth. From now on, none of us will be complaining about the cold.
Over the next few days, we explore the mountains around the station on snowmobiles. As in the area around Kirovsk, we find perfect snowboarding terrain and the best snow conditions - only without the smoking industrial plants. You'd think you'd be in complete isolation and wilderness here, but the knowledge that hundreds of young people are camping in the woods in the freezing cold takes a lot of the adventure out of our venture. All the more so as we keep meeting groups on skis. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere and miles away from the Geostation. Sometimes even in the very cold evening twilight, which would almost be a reason to call the mountain rescue service back home in the Alps. Our respect for our Russian friends increases, especially as Valodja tells us that there is nothing special about it. If they got cold, they would be at the station in a few hours on foot...
Our time is gradually coming to an end. We try to enjoy the last descents particularly consciously. On the day of our departure, with 30 cm of fresh snow and bright sunshine with a large pile of luggage in front of our guesthouse, we regret the decision to have planned a day for sightseeing in Murmansk: Atomic submarines and icebreakers instead of meter-high clouds of powder snow? But the minibus is already turning the corner...
