The Proletarian Tourist in the 1930s 99tourists. Yet actual reports from tourists deviated from these strictures. Along
with reporting factual knowledge, diaries celebrated the personal autonomy
of life on the road. Among the letters sent to Moscow’s Bauman district coun-
cil of the OPTE, most emphasized two key elements: good works (as covered
in the guidelines) and adventures (which were not). Two aspiring teachers
recounted a journey through the rivers and forests of the Urals in the summer
of 1932, their group of six armed with fi ve rifl es and carrying food reserves
for a month. They had undertaken to collect animal furs for the biological
museum in Moscow, but they took special care to describe the dangers of the
trip and their adaptability in confronting unexpected situations. A group of
apprentices from a textile factory decided to spend their holiday rowing down
the Volga. The OPTE delayed them for days with medical examinations and
swimming tests; through their own initiative they managed to buy a boat from
a fi sherman, and only then did their “beautiful and successful” tour begin.^25
A fi ctionalized account of a Caucasus journey included the usual diffi cult
mountain passes but also an encounter with a former local bandit, Seipul,
complete with the frisson of danger that came from eerie cries in the night
and from sharing a campfi re with this reformed bandit. A group of rather in-
experienced tourists to Lake Ritsa in the Caucasus described some harrowing
descents by moonlight and their delight at stumbling across an alpine “corner
of paradise,” replete with waterfalls and bubbling springs. Theirs was a tale of
survival and self-reliance, although they dutifully reported on how they had
informed the local population about the international political situation.^26
Natural and human obstacles provided independent tourists with the chal-
lenges that proved their worth as self-actualizing Soviet citizens. Although
descriptions of diffi cult encounters helped to prepare future travelers, tour-
ists themselves celebrated the opportunity to face these rigors and dangers,
which set them apart from both stay-at-home vacationers and tourists on the
domesticated package tours. Mosquitoes served as the scourge of the tourist,
“the most dangerous beast in the Urals”; “mosquitoes didn’t leave us alone.”
One group reported that although spreading salt around their tent might keep
snakes away, the salt attracted cows that attacked their campsite. Bad weather
was a constant companion on the march, threatening particular harm to tour-
ists on the water, whose boats could be swamped by wind and high waves.
Human dangers received less open discussion in trip reports, but one 1929
account mentioned the presence of pirates on the Volga, who preyed on the
slow-moving rafts of hunters and tourists.^27 Far more commonly, however,
- Proletarskii turizm , 22, 78–80; Turist-aktivist , no. 10 (1932): 14–15. By contrast, A. N.
Kolmogorov claims to have rented a boat from OPTE in Iaroslavl' in 1929 that he was easily
able to return to the society’s branch in Samara. Kolmogorov, “Memories,” 147–149. - GARF, f. 9520, op. 1, d. 5 (Krasnaia Poliana-Gagry expedition, 1934), ll. 10–46; Pro-
letarskii turizm , 86–89. - NSNM , no. 1 (1929): 14, “most dangerous beast,” 12; “mosquitoes didn’t leave us,”
no. 4 (1929): 10; no. 10 (1930): 3; no. 13 (1930): 4; Proletarskii turizm , 74, 107, 112; NSNM ,
no. 12 (1929): 12; no. 10 (1935): 6; 20 (1935): 14; no. 8 (1929): 10.