The Baranov’s Cape Polar Post Story
Very little is known about the polar post of the high-latitude ‘Cape Baranova’ station (Severnaya Zemlya, Bolshevik Island). My informal collection includes three different types of postmarks from the ‘Cape Baranova’ station, which I saw in 1991 during an expedition to the archipelago (see fig. 1-3 in Ukrainian version of this post). The polar researchers there used these postmarks not only for postal purposes but also as souvenirs, making sort of mini-pennants as mementos: they would place a sheet of paper bearing impressions of the station’s three postmarks and a piece of red fabric, onto which one of the postmark impressions had been transferred, inside a transparent cellophane wrapper.
A typical locally produced set of the polar post from Bolshevik Island consisted of an envelope bearing one or three of the station’s postmarks—which would then pass, for example, through the post office at Cape Chelyuskin—and an additional insert: the pennant mentioned above.
Later, the ‘Cape Baranov’ station was mothballed for many years, as was the neighbouring ‘Pishchana’ station (Cape Pishchany). The polar explorers at ‘Pishchana’ had their own postmark.
Recently, a statement by one of the administrators (O. F.) regarding the intention to establish a permanent station at Cape Baranova appeared briefly in the press. The statement was linked to the search for an alternative to the drifting stations, which are increasingly suffering from flooding during the spring thaw. The so-called Arctic warming was making itself felt. So, is Cape Baranov destined to find a new lease of life?
Speaking of the ‘Cape Baranova’ station, I’d like to add the following. In the summer of 1991, our expedition travelled here from Moscow (Domodedovo) airport by Mi-6 helicopter — with overnight stops in Norilsk and at the ‘Cape Chelyuskin’ polar station. From there, we flew on to Bolshevik Island in a Mi-8 helicopter, simultaneously unloading passengers and equipment belonging to the ‘Soniachnaya’ polar station. It resembled a large settlement rather than a solitary polar station. Compared to ‘Soniachna’, our ‘Cape Baranova’ was a sparsely populated but well-equipped stretch of coastal tundra, situated on an elevated rocky shore with easy access to the sea, presumably designed to accommodate several expeditions.
The typical landscape consisted of antennas, ribbed meteorological huts, tracked vehicles, and a dozen or so small buildings, including neat prefabricated Bakelite structures serving as expedition stores, as well as a spacious mess hall with a galley, an additional storage building and a very long, somewhat unusual at first glance open-air trestle warehouse, which solves the perennial problem of freeing polar treasures from snowdrifts.
I do not know for certain what was kept in that separate storeroom, but rumour had it that our doctor would meticulously collect crates of empty bottles there—left behind as a ‘legacy’ from various expeditions—which he then managed to send back to the mainland at every opportunity. (Vehicles relieved of expedition cargo and returning to the mainland empty are by no means a rare sight in the high latitudes.)
Here and there, man-made wooden walkways stretched between the buildings. A sort of path. That summer, around 35 people lived at the station alongside us, without bothering anyone, including a film crew who had brought with them… two polar bears.
I have many memories of the island linked to the presence of that film crew, as well as the excellent food and the rare, specially protected white martens. The fantastic fjords and all the scenery in general are also etched in my memory. Especially near the Semenov-Tianshan Glacier. Our routes near Mount Mayakovsky also made a big impression, as did our visit to the ‘Pishchana’ polar station, where the polar explorers treated us to homemade smoked herring… I also remember the ever-present mists, the very long wait for our flight back to the mainland at Cape Chelyuskin station, and the shocking television report about the State Committee for Emergency Situations and the riots in Moscow, which later struck me with the sight of a barricade. Such was 1991, a year which subsequently had an impact, in particular, on the polar postal service, for it was then that the USSR began to disintegrate and all its postal symbols changed significantly…
Vasyl Prydatko-Dolin
January 15, 2012
The Baranov’s Cape Polar Post Story
Very little is known about the polar post of the high-latitude ‘Cape Baranova’ station (Severnaya Zemlya, Bolshevik Island). My informal collection includes three different types of postmarks from the ‘Cape Baranova’ station, which I saw in 1991 during an expedition to the archipelago (see fig. 1-3 in Ukrainian version of this post). The polar researchers there used these postmarks not only for postal purposes but also as souvenirs, making sort of mini-pennants as mementos: they would place a sheet of paper bearing impressions of the station’s three postmarks and a piece of red fabric, onto which one of the postmark impressions had been transferred, inside a transparent cellophane wrapper.
A typical locally produced set of the polar post from Bolshevik Island consisted of an envelope bearing one or three of the station’s postmarks—which would then pass, for example, through the post office at Cape Chelyuskin—and an additional insert: the pennant mentioned above.
Later, the ‘Cape Baranov’ station was mothballed for many years, as was the neighbouring ‘Pishchana’ station (Cape Pishchany). The polar explorers at ‘Pishchana’ had their own postmark.
Recently, a statement by one of the administrators (O. F.) regarding the intention to establish a permanent station at Cape Baranova appeared briefly in the press. The statement was linked to the search for an alternative to the drifting stations, which are increasingly suffering from flooding during the spring thaw. The so-called Arctic warming was making itself felt. So, is Cape Baranov destined to find a new lease of life?
Speaking of the ‘Cape Baranova’ station, I’d like to add the following. In the summer of 1991, our expedition travelled here from Moscow (Domodedovo) airport by Mi-6 helicopter — with overnight stops in Norilsk and at the ‘Cape Chelyuskin’ polar station. From there, we flew on to Bolshevik Island in a Mi-8 helicopter, simultaneously unloading passengers and equipment belonging to the ‘Soniachnaya’ polar station. It resembled a large settlement rather than a solitary polar station. Compared to ‘Soniachna’, our ‘Cape Baranova’ was a sparsely populated but well-equipped stretch of coastal tundra, situated on an elevated rocky shore with easy access to the sea, presumably designed to accommodate several expeditions.
The typical landscape consisted of antennas, ribbed meteorological huts, tracked vehicles, and a dozen or so small buildings, including neat prefabricated Bakelite structures serving as expedition stores, as well as a spacious mess hall with a galley, an additional storage building and a very long, somewhat unusual at first glance open-air trestle warehouse, which solves the perennial problem of freeing polar treasures from snowdrifts.
I do not know for certain what was kept in that separate storeroom, but rumour had it that our doctor would meticulously collect crates of empty bottles there—left behind as a ‘legacy’ from various expeditions—which he then managed to send back to the mainland at every opportunity. (Vehicles relieved of expedition cargo and returning to the mainland empty are by no means a rare sight in the high latitudes.)
Here and there, man-made wooden walkways stretched between the buildings. A sort of path. That summer, around 35 people lived at the station alongside us, without bothering anyone, including a film crew who had brought with them… two polar bears.
I have many memories of the island linked to the presence of that film crew, as well as the excellent food and the rare, specially protected white martens. The fantastic fjords and all the scenery in general are also etched in my memory. Especially near the Semenov-Tianshan Glacier. Our routes near Mount Mayakovsky also made a big impression, as did our visit to the ‘Pishchana’ polar station, where the polar explorers treated us to homemade smoked herring… I also remember the ever-present mists, the very long wait for our flight back to the mainland at Cape Chelyuskin station, and the shocking television report about the State Committee for Emergency Situations and the riots in Moscow, which later struck me with the sight of a barricade. Such was 1991, a year which subsequently had an impact, in particular, on the polar postal service, for it was then that the USSR began to disintegrate and all its postal symbols changed significantly…
Vasyl Prydatko-Dolin
January 15, 2012
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