Beringia National Park

Listen first. Wind comes off the sea and moves across the tundra without a single tree to stop it. Somewhere offshore, a whale breathes out, a long wet rush of air. The ground under your boots is soft and springy, a mat of moss, lichen and low shrubs over cold earth. The light here is pale and wide, and it seems to come from every direction at once. This is Beringia National Park, at the far eastern edge of Russia.

The park covers a large part of the Chukotka Peninsula, the long arm of land that reaches toward Alaska. It was created in 2013, which makes it young as protected areas go. Its territory is huge and broken into separate sections: rocky coasts, fjord-like bays, islands, mountain ridges and wide river valleys. Very few roads cross it. Most travel here happens by boat, by all-terrain vehicle, or on foot.

The name carries a much older story. Beringia is the term scientists use for the land that once joined Asia and North America. During the ice ages, so much water was locked in glaciers that sea levels fell. A broad plain lay open where the Bering Strait runs today. Plants, animals and, in time, people crossed it. You are standing on the western edge of that lost bridge.

Here is the first surprise. On a clear day, from the right headland, you can see America. Across the strait sit the two Diomede Islands. The larger one belongs to Russia. The smaller one belongs to the United States. They lie only a few kilometres apart, yet the International Date Line runs between them. So the islands are close in distance, but they are a full day apart on the calendar.

Near the strait, the land rises to Cape Dezhnev, the easternmost point of mainland Asia. It is named after Semyon Dezhnev, a Cossack explorer who sailed around this corner of the continent in the seventeenth century. The cape is steep and often wrapped in fog. Close by are traces of much older life. Archaeologists have studied ancient settlements and burial grounds along this coast, left by sea-hunting cultures that thrived here long before any Russian ship arrived.

Those cultures did not vanish. Two Indigenous peoples still live in this landscape. The Chukchi are known for reindeer herding inland and for hunting along the coast. The Yupik, sometimes called Siberian Eskimos, have lived for generations as sea mammal hunters. Their small villages sit on the shore, with wooden houses, drying racks and boats pulled up on the gravel. In some communities, hunting for walrus and whales continues under strict quotas, because it still feeds families.

Now the second surprise, and perhaps the strangest place in the park. On Yttygran Island lies a site known as Whale Bone Alley. Along the beach, huge whale jawbones and skulls stand upright in long rows, set into the earth. Around them are stone-lined pits and old meat storage cellars. Researchers believe it was a ceremonial and gathering place for the ancient sea hunters. Its exact purpose is still debated, and that open question is part of its power.

The animals here are the reason many visitors make the long journey. Gray whales feed in the shallow bays in summer. Bowhead whales pass through these waters too. Walruses gather on certain beaches in large, noisy, crowded groups, and you may smell them before you see them. Polar bears visit the coast, especially as the sea ice returns. On the cliffs, seabird colonies fill the air with sound, and the rock faces turn white with their droppings.

The land itself is worth your attention. Look closely at the tundra near your feet. In summer it is full of small flowers, mosses and dwarf willows that grow sideways rather than up. In early autumn the leaves turn red, orange and gold, and the whole slope changes colour within days. Underneath, the soil stays frozen for most of the year. This frozen ground, called permafrost, shapes everything, from drainage to where people can build.

The park also holds warm water in this cold place. Several hot springs rise from the ground, some of them in the southern sections. Steam drifts over the pools on cool mornings, and green plants grow more thickly around them. For local people, these springs have long been places to rest and bathe. For visitors arriving after days at sea, sitting in warm water beside snowy hills is a moment that stays with them.

If you visit the coastal village of Uelen, near the strait, look for its bone carving workshop. Uelen is known across Russia for carving and engraving on walrus ivory and bone. Artists cut fine scenes of hunting, reindeer and daily life into the pale surface, often colouring the lines in black or red. It is a living craft, passed from one generation to the next. The carvings tell the same stories you see around you outside.

Travel here takes patience. Weather decides almost everything. Fog can close a harbour for a day, and wind can cancel a landing in minutes. Chukotka is also a border zone, so visitors usually need special permission arranged well in advance. Most people come with an organised expedition or a local guide. That slower rhythm is part of the experience. You learn to wait, to watch the sky, and to take each landing when it comes.

Before you move on, stand still for a moment. Look at the line where grey water meets grey sky. Notice the wind on your face, the soft give of the tundra, the cry of a gull above the cliffs. People have watched this same sea for thousands of years, waiting for whales. As you walk away, keep listening. Out there, a whale may breathe again.