Tessa McGregor joins an expedition to survey snow leopards and other animals in the mountains of the Altai Republic, Central Asia.
Declared a World Heritage site in 1998, the Altai Mountains deep in the Asian part of the Russian Federation are one of the most beautiful and remote parts of the world. The region is also one of the poorest of the former Soviet Union and its natural resources are threatened by all kinds of exploitation.
Early morning in Novosibirsk. Sparrows chatter as they feed their young. Swifts hunt the first insects of the day, swooping and screaming overhead heralding the hot day to come. The sun lights up the gold, onion-shaped dome of St Nikolay, a tiny church that marks the geographical centre of Russia.
Four Land Rovers are parked nearby; packed with rucksacks, day sacks, walking boots and last minute supplies. New team members assemble in the hotel lobby for a briefing. Although most are jet lagged, everyone is freshly showered and keen to get going. It’s a two day journey to base camp. We set off in convoy.
Leaving the city behind we travel East, through vast tracts of agricultural lands and forests of birch and pine, occasionally punctuated by wooden villages, concrete towns and police check points. Silver ribbons of river flash by at regular intervals. We speed past people sitting next to plastic buckets heaped with produce. They sell vegetables, seeds, wild mushrooms, berries – anything they can grow, pick or make.
It’s late afternoon by the time we meet the Katun River and get our first glimpse of distant mountains. We are excited to cross the border and enter the Altai Republic, a small semiautonomous region most people haven’t even heard of. Roadside stalls sell the famous Altai honey. Decanted into plastic bottles it ranges in colour from rich gold to mahogany. By evening we have covered 500km of Russian road. Everyone is relieved to stop at the halfway point. A wooden rest house overlooking the Katun River. The welcome is warm, the food delicious. By the time we have shared a ‘Banya’ (Russian Sauna) and a beer we feel we’ve know each other for much longer than twenty-four hours. We all enjoy our last night in a bed.
These mountains stretch across Central Asia, straddling the borders of China, Mongolia, Kazakhstan and Russia.
The next day, roads get narrower, bends get sharper and the scenery takes our breath away as we travel deeper into Asia. We drive through passes. They take us higher, to lands, boulder strewn where glacial rivers flow fast. We follow the Chuya River. Horses and cattle graze but now herds of sheep and goats wander onto the road as well. The Chusky Mountains are capped with snow. Our last stop for fuel is Koch Agach. A desolate town on the edge of the steppe. There is a sharp drop in temperature. We put on extra layers. From now on there are no towns, telephones, hospitals or shops. Even the road runs out. The Land Rovers come into their own as we drive the last 50 km, following rutted tracks through the steppe towards the Tapduair massif. We arrive at base camp in the dark and are greeted by Nadia the cook and our Guides and helpers, Oleg, Victor and Tolia. They have prepared a campfire, a candlelit mess tent, hot soup and we have fresh bread.
Tents are allocated. Sleeping bags unfurled. This is a different world. From now on we sleep in the shadow of Tapduair (3505m) and Silugiem (3411m), the highest mountains in our research area. The Altai Mountains are one of the most beautiful parts of the world. Declared a World Heritage site in 1998 they are home to a number of endangered species including the Snow Leopard, Argali and Ibex we have come to survey. Sadly this is also one of the poorest regions of the former Soviet Union and since its collapse natural resources are threatened by all kinds of exploitation.
These mountains stretch across Central Asia, straddling the borders of China, Mongolia, Kazakhstan and Russia. They stand at the junction of several natural zones and cultures. Not many foreigners get this far, but those who do are not disappointed. Huge areas of open steppe where demoiselle cranes dance in late spring are framed by snowcovered peaks, above which soar vultures, eagles and lammergeyer. River valleys divide the mountains.
The landscape varies from semi-desert to alpine peaks, from grassland to forests of larch and Siberian pine. Dwarf birch, willow and juniper cover slopes and valleys. The profusion of summer flowers are too numerous and beautiful to describe here. Herbs, berries, wild onions and rhubarb grow, relished by people and wildlife alike. Next morning we rise in the shadow of mountains to the sound of ‘our’ river and the mewling cry of a black-eared kite. Groups of choughs call as they fly off to forage. We are able to appreciate the sheltered valley and the views from the shower tents.
Over a hearty breakfast I think about what our team has in common. It’s not age, profession, fitness, scientific knowledge or nationality. The ability to speak English yes, but that doesn’t explain why 12 people from different backgrounds have decided to devote their time to work with a local scientists in this remote part of the world. People’s motives for joining the expedition are varied. Some are students; some are retired, others are looking for a career change, or wanting a challenge. Some just love big cats. What everyone has in common is a desire to do make a difference and to actively play a part in conservation. There is a lot to learn; map-reading, compass skills, using a GPS, off-road driving skills, how to do vehicle inspections, how to keep grasshoppers out of tents and socks out of rodents’ reach. Then there is learning about fieldwork, what signs to look for and how to record them. Everyone concentrates. Biting insects make the most of a captive audience. Team members itch (quite literally) to go out and survey. But when we lace up our walking boots and set off, the challenge that lies ahead is all too obvious. Snow Leopards may be an indicator species for Asia’s high mountain ecosystem, but these are some of the most difficult areas in the world for scientific study.
Snow Leopards may be an indicator species for Asia’s high mountain ecosystem, but these are some of the most difficult areas in the world for scientific study
Volodya, our Russian scientist and I have to turn team members into field biologists in less than two weeks. To make things even more difficult, snow leopards are so elusive that even researchers who spend years in the field hardly ever see them. We have to get data for an entire mountain range that has never been surveyed before. We must look for signs of snow leopards and their main prey species, Ibex (wild goats) and Argali (wild sheep), and record the wildlife of these mountains. If we obtain enough data, we will be able to prove the importance of this fragile habitat, whose mountains stretch across the border into Mongolia. We hope this will help the area to get the protection it desperately needs. The creation of trans-border reserves is vital if snow leopards are to survive, as their territorial ranges do not respect national boundaries. As the days pass, what amazes me is that ‘mission impossible’ turns into ‘mission incredible’. We work closely together. Team members turn into eco-detectives as they learn to recognise scats, scrapes and resting depressions. Wherever you look, there is bound to be someone searching with binoculars. After long days in the field we get together in the mess tent to share our findings and fill in scientific forms. The team is fitter and more confident. Our translators, Olga and Nastya, are so good we can even swap jokes with Victor and Oleg as we ascend ever-steeper slopes and survey the highest ridges. Team members have many skills. Charlie is brilliant with technology and irons out glitches in the remote camera set up. Dave had the ‘second sight’ were Ibex are concerned. They seemed to appear just for him. Sophia’s birding skills are a boon as is Christine’s botanical expertise. Peter is our small mammal man and Toril had an infallible eye for carnivore scat. Then there’s Victoria. She can get a Land Rover anywhere and Ian who covers entire mountain ranges in day... the list goes on.
Best of all, collectively we manage to collect a wealth of data and have fun in the process. Discussions in the evening are lively and often go on late into the night, especially when accompanied by vodka. Volodya is a fund of stories. Camp humour is brilliant. I don’t think I have ever laughed so much. We cover more ground daily and some of us spend nights in hides and remote valleys. While big mammals are hard to see, the sightings we do get are unforgettable.
All our efforts are instantly rewarded when we catch glimpses of Ibex, Argali or wolf. Sometimes they stay around long enough for us to view them through the spotting scope. Then we observe their colouring, age, sex and behaviour. Sometimes sightings are much closer, like the day we bump into a large wild boar while collecting mushrooms. Olga and Nastya are so engrossed, they fail to see him until they are right next to him. It’s hard to know who is more startled. We all watch the boar bolt up the slope, and know how he feels when he slows down, exhausted, before disappearing over a ridge we descended earlier. The fact he was invisible amongst dwarf scrub half his height shows how well camouflaged wildlife can be. The rooted-about earth also tells us he is as partial to mushrooms as we are. Small mammals and birds are not so shy. The grasslands and lower slopes are alive with ground squirrels. Their cute behaviour and extravagant antics never fail to entertain. Marmots are shyer but also abundant. Large, golden furred and extremely smelly (team members learn to identify their droppings very fast!) they are nervous above ground, except for one marmot we name Boris. He sometimes comes out to feed near base camp, and even poses for camera occasionally. Bird life is impressive. We become almost blasé about our frequent sightings: Golden eagles, steppe eagles, huge imperial eagles, buzzards, falcons and rare cinereous vultures. Game birds fly out from under our feet in the mountains. Many of us see Altai snowcock. We witness demoiselle cranes court, feed and breed, and watch the velvet-headed chicks follow their parents across the steppe.
Although our research area is remote, we are not alone. We share it with families of semi-nomadic herders. Their pale felt yurts dot the steppe and valleys. They are here every summer, to graze their livestock; sheep, goats, cattle and yaks. It is a busy time with shearing, milking, making dairy products, spinning, felt making, herding and haymaking. Interviewing the herders is an important part of the survey work. Drinking tea and eating with them in their cosy yurts, surrounded by children, pet lams, cats and elderly relatives we communicate in Russian, Kazak, Altai, English, German, sign language and drawings. We learn much more and become friends with several families. Gaining their trust is a big breakthrough. Through them we learn more about the wildlife and how bad the poaching really is. A female snow leopard and her cubs were killed in our survey area this winter. That knowledge makes us even more determined to collect necessary data.
The weeks fly past. On the last morning no one wants to leave. We are different people. We have put up with heat, rain, sleet and snow, been bitten by countless insects, crossed rivers, climbed mountains and run down scree slopes we wouldn’t even have walked down before this expedition. We know how to recognise argali tracks, ibex hair, and game bird spoor and get really excited whenever we find fresh dung. As for snow leopards. We have searched for their tracks, sniffed rocks they might have scent marked and looked for their scrapes and scat. On our very last survey we found a distinct trail. Our most precious find, a scat, is carefully labelled and stored, ready for DNA analysis. We arrived in Russia as strangers but we leave as friends. All of us more convinced than ever of the importance of protecting the endangered snow leopard in its magnificent habitat.
If you're keen to join an expedition to survey snow leopards and other animals in the mountains of the Altai Republic, Central Asia, find this
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