UEEE, Yakutsk, Russia

World Heritage Sites Air Adventures – Hammer, Sickle, and Yoke
December 4th, 2025
Flight Log #07 – Ice Fog & Runway of the Imagination
Guest Co‑Pilot: Mikhail Zoshchenko

At Baikal International, UIUU, morning arrived in its usual dialectical contradiction: airport present, world absent. December here means sharp frost, low haze, and a horizon that has resigned for health reasons. Naturally, on such a day, progressive forces decided we must fly to Yakutsk. The glamorous part of our delegation—Marisa and Olga—chose the Spartan, with multiple engines and, presumably, better heating. The proletarian vanguard—one PC‑12, one long‑suffering captain, three overqualified dogs, and myself—received the heroic task: horrid IFR across Siberia.

En‑route, existence reduced itself to cloud and instruments. At one point the sky, perhaps out of pity, tore a small hole and briefly showed us Lena Pillars below: a stone forest of vertical cliffs along the river, famous to geologists and visible to us for roughly three seconds between layers. UNESCO has many beautiful pages about its unique landscapes and fossils; our version was shorter: “There, you saw it. Don’t get used to it.” The dogs missed the entire world‑heritage moment, busy snoring and proving that class struggle does not apply to cabin comfort.

Yakutsk, UEEE, then offered a practical seminar in Applied Existentialism. On final approach the windshield showed absolutely nothing—no runway, no lights, only a very committed white‑gray void. Inside, the instruments insisted an airport lay straight ahead, like a party committee swearing there is definitely a factory where everyone can plainly see only swamp. Altitude unwound, my sense of humor with it. The captain, however, stared at the needles with the calm of a man who has already decided that if the altimeter is lying, debate is pointless. Then, at the last legal millimeter of decision height, the runway exploded out of the fog: edge lights, centerline, concrete, all exactly where the instruments had promised. A rare, touching moment when reality cooperated with documentation.

We landed, rolled out, and the airport immediately attempted to disappear again, buildings fading into ice fog a few hundred meters away. The dogs trotted down the airstairs off‑lead, perfectly disciplined: Lani patrolled the ramp with the air of a small internal security ministry, Kai conducted morale operations among the ground crew, and Charlie leaned against frozen technicians until they remembered why surviving winter might be worthwhile. Somewhere out in the same soup, the Spartan with our cultured comrades was also fighting its way in, bringing shopping bags and criticism.

Operational summary in proper Soviet style: task completed, aircraft intact, crew and dogs present, one stone forest glimpsed for three seconds, one runway seen exactly at the last possible moment, and one more glorious victory for the instruments over human eyesight and common sense.Read more