A Teaser

“Ou vooz seel phone, I feex eat.”

It was the first I knew Misha spoke any English. Tapping my chest with a strong grimy finger, he spoke slowly, his statement almost unintelligible through his cigarette-clenching grin and gravelly Russian accent. It was almost dark a mile or so from the pass and other vehicles were scarce on this dashed line of asphalt and dirt highway. We were on the climbing side of a low mountain range between Ust-Burgyzin and Ulan-Ude in south-central Siberia, having just left the eastern coast of Lake Baikal after six days of traveling in Misha's van, by a variety of watercraft, and on foot in search of Nerpa. The mysterious Nerpa, Pusa sibirica, the only landlocked freshwater seal, were difficult to get to but not hard to find. In fact, finding the seals was much easier than avoiding the curdling fumes that foretold the downfall of our Russian all-purpose vehicle. We had been stranded, our itinerary broken, and I, as is too often the case when things go south, was happy. And, honestly, Misha should have been on fire.