Cross Lake Baikal,
in the heart of Siberia
do you like it?

Why did you decide to go so far and in full winter conditions?

​

I have always appreciated remote areas and large snow-covered expanses. Each time my work had taken me into frozen spaces, whether in the Arctic or Antarctica, I had felt an inexplicable relief. No doubt that I was transported by the supernatural beauty of this nature still virgin of any human activity. In this pure wild environment, my mind is freed and slowly set in motion. I am as if carried by a natural force that is beyond me.

​

This trip on Lake Baikal therefore appeared to me in my dream as obvious. I like these vast white spaces as far as the eye can see, they help me find a certain inner calm and serenity. After a very active professional period, I wanted to take a break and find myself in timeless landscapes in order to open a new parenthesis in my life. I wanted to feel like a child, without fear and with fresh eyes, more in connection with my senses and the world around me. I also wanted to get to know myself better through this sporting challenge. I wanted to put myself in danger, to live to the full as at the first breath. I wanted to find the time to meet Lake Baikal face to face to guide me to a new path. 

​

I understand your trip didn't go as planned?

​

It's like life, no matter how much we want to plan everything, fate sometimes decides otherwise. We must then learn to adapt to changes  and events as soon as they arise.

​

I initially set myself a far too optimistic goal of 30 days to connect the north of the lake to the south. It was simply the duration of my Russian visa! In fact, it was a big mistake on my part, because I put too much mental pressure on myself when I left, including logistics. 

​

I was first surprised by the abnormally high amount of snow for this season due to too mild a climate, which considerably slowed down my progress with my Pulka, that's the Swedish name given to the sled that I used to transport my 80 kg of survival equipment, my food, my tent, etc... At this time of year, in February, there must have been much lower negative temperatures, around minus twenty degrees, which should logically have limited snowfall. 
 

From the first kilometers, having to face so many unforeseen events, fear and my emotions completely invaded me. My heart started beating at 300 per hour, when I sank into this white immensity that enveloped me both body and mind. Lake Baikal put me to the test of doubt. I quickly realized that   the distance of the 700 km I had planned to cover could take much longer than I imagined. So rather than turning my dream into a test, or even a nightmare, I told myself that what really counted would now be the steps I would take day by day, hour by hour. Then I'll see where it all takes me...

​

If I had persisted in pursuing my initial objective by projecting myself from the start on the finish, then I would have prevented myself from having fun and fully living the present moment.

​

Completely resigned to my fate, so I decided to return to my original starting point to join my support team. Once safe at base camp, Ice Captain Valeria wanted me to call on a Siberian shaman to bless me and my Pulka. It's a tradition there: you will never be allowed to walk alone on a frozen lake without protecting you from evil spirits. As I absolutely wanted to leave as soon as possible, I followed this shamanic ritual. I did well because if I had given up, I would never have been able to go back because of the pandemic linked to the coronavirus: the borders being closed a few months later to foreigners.

​

In the end, this second start was the right one, even if I still kept in mind my sprained ankle which had occurred a few weeks earlier during my training and which could wake up at any moment. Despite my injury, my doctor still let me go, because he had considered that the route of this long walk was flat and therefore safe for my health.

Taking into account this physical fragility, each day of this expedition was a new challenge for me to find my balance and the right pace of walking. Through my various documentary shoots, I knew the Great Cold well, but on this expedition, I knew that my professional experience alone would not be enough and that I had to surpass myself both physically and morally.

​

I usually walked from 7 a.m. until 4 p.m. Gradually, the steady effort of walking gave me new strength and energy. Every day, I followed the same routine: getting up, getting ready, and unpacking my tent in freezing temperatures and freezing wind. Every evening, I also had to prepare my essential water supplies for my survival the next day.

​