Time to read: 19 minutes(s)

Drawings that will outlive us 

Khabarovsk Krai boasts one of the largest concentrations of petroglyphs—ancient stone carvings—in Russia. More than 140 images of horses, deer, boats, masks, and birds have been documented. A new, previously unknown stone with ancient human drawings was recently discovered here. The site is currently slated for inclusion on the list of protected cultural monuments. The excitement won't end there: archaeologists say there are still many unexplored sites in the area. However, there is a critical shortage of archaeologists—as well as funds for preserving and documenting the images.  

Either Nanai or Buryat

The most famous village with petroglyphs, Sikachi-Alyan, is located just 80 kilometers from Khabarovsk. But getting there isn't easy—there's only a bus twice a day, and the neighboring village of Malyshevo might not even stop in Sikachi-Alyan in the evening to pick up passengers "to the city," as Khabarovsk is called locally. The only way to get to the highway, where you can catch other scheduled buses, is by car—a ten-minute drive. 

Sikachi-Alyan — a traditional Nanai village. The current population is 270. The first description of the village was made in 1855 by explorer Robert Maak, who estimated that there were about sixty residents. By 1905, when the first missionaries arrived, the Nanai population had already reached about 300. There is a first-aid post, a school, a kindergarten, and a store. 

At the entrance, guests are greeted by a newly constructed building housing a school with 11 grades and 47 students, the administration, and the local museum—formerly a branch of the Grodekov Regional Museum, now simply a local history museum. All newcomers and strangers are assured they go to the administration, to see the village head, and are greeted from the doorway: 

- She’s not here, she’s in the city! 

After they learned that journalists had arrived to investigate the petroglyphs, they sent us to Svetlana Onenko, a local history teacher and museum director. She'd already closed the museum and left school—classes were over, but we easily found her—not far from the administration building, just down the street, discussing pressing issues with a neighbor. 

"Our streetlights are always on. They used to turn off during the day, but now they don't—something's broken. And who's going to pay for all this?" the women complain. "They told us to turn off something on the streetlight ourselves. But how can we do that?" 

The village has plenty of problems. Residents can't get a water pump—they installed a fancy one with grant money, but it never worked; it's just there for show. They also criticize the mayor for not finding the money to repair the road to the village. And the petroglyphs are just a local landmark. No one really cares about them, Svetlana Onenko says regretfully. But she's happy to give a tour. 

"You know, someone once asked me: 'Who's telling you all this nonsense about petroglyphs?' And they were local girls, about 15 years old, trying to make some extra money. Usually people don't listen; they just come and stroll around, but that time someone got upset and listened to the story. And that's how it is with us, you know? That's how we, museum employees and tour guides, used to be taught. Tomorrow someone's coming to me for a tour, and before that, I have to look at the place, check everything. Sometimes I pick up trash, check the paths. That's how we were taught. And who's doing what there now, organizing it, what's telling it—nobody pays attention anymore," Svetlana Nikolaevna says, upset. 

On the shore near the ancient stones are several fishermen. About ten meters away, they launch boats and set nets. 

"I always pass by and ask if they've fed the spirits. The men usually say they have, but only Podya. It's strange, I say, why feed the fire spirit before fishing? Tem should have been fed, and something hot. That's how we live, basically," Svetlana Nikolaevna sighs.

For her, the native Nanai spirits are more than just words. She doesn't perform the rituals herself, but she knows them and speaks of them with respect. 

"If you see a shell or stone under stones with petroglyphs, it's clear they were planted there—never take them. It means someone made an offering to the spirits," the interviewee explains. 

There are several clusters of stones with drawings in Sikachi-Alyan—the so-called lower and upper ones, along the river's course. Some were inaccessible that day—their banks were still marshy after the ice drift, and the channel had overflowed.

The lower stones are almost always accessible. A stele is installed there. A sign on it states that the petroglyphs are a cultural monument and should not be damaged. 

Right behind the stele there is a tree with colored ribbons tied to its branches, reminiscent of sergeThere were similar ones near the entrance to the village. I don't recall anything like this in Nanai culture—my guess turns out to be correct. 

"Yes, they lead groups... You'd think they were all Buryats. They came up with it themselves, just another distraction for tourists. But it has nothing to do with the Nanai people," Svetlana Onenko says, waving her hand. 

The fishermen are the first to find it

A new petroglyph was discovered on a boulder in the nearby village of Yelabuga. According to Svetlana Onenko, it was discovered by local fishermen several years ago, and was only "rechecked" this year. The archaeology department of the Khabarovsk Center for the Protection of Historical and Cultural Monuments receives many such reports—claiming to have seen a new petroglyph—but often the drawings are not ancient, and everything needs to be verified, explains department head Evgeny Chernikov. This time, the report was confirmed. 

"We learned about this from Sergei Zolotukhin, a member of the Russian Geographical Society. He came to one of our lectures and casually mentioned that there was a new boulder near Yelabuga. We went to check it out, and indeed, it was quite large, and all the surfaces suitable for carving were filled in," Chernikov says. "But it's the only one like it on this coast; it's completely different." geomorphologySo it looks a bit odd. Perhaps it was dragged there, to this shore. Or it was a large basalt boulder that split, leaving what remains. It's clearly well-rounded and weathered. It's significantly impacted by water, sand, and ice. It's eroded more than the rocks on Sikachi-Alyan. The image of a boar is key; the fishermen were able to find it themselves. There's also an elk with a human head inscribed in its body—a masquerade, as the term for depictions of faces or masks is used. And another strange image, previously unseen, resembling a praying mantis. 

The distance from Yelabuga to Sikachi-Alyan is about 30 kilometers, quite far from the main sites where petroglyphs have been previously discovered. According to Chernikov, along a five-kilometer stretch up the Amur River to Sikachi-Alyan, there are six known locations of ancient drawings, arranged in small clusters. In addition to these locations, the Amur-Ussuri province of rock art—the name given to all petroglyphs in Khabarovsk Krai—includes boulders on the Kiya, Sukpai, and Ussuri rivers. There are also petroglyphs on the Amgun River and on the Amur River near Sofiysk, Cape Auri, in northern Khabarovsk Krai. To the north is the Mayskaya Pisanitsa, a cluster of ochre rock carvings on the Maya River. In the north, there are also carvings made using the engraving technique, where not just the outline but the entire image is carved out. There's also one such site at Sikachi-Alyan, but it was made later than the main images, during the Iron Age. Engravings and rock paintings are not yet included in the province's inventory, although Chernikov believes it would be logical to include them in the overall complex. 

According to Chernikov, the last major, systematic study of petroglyphs was conducted in the 60s by Alexey Okladnikov. Work continued after that, but on a much smaller scale. 

Alexey Pavlovich Okladnikov is an archaeologist, historian, ethnographer, and academician of the USSR Academy of Sciences. He was born in the Irkutsk region to a peasant mother, and his father, a rural teacher, was executed by Kolchak's forces. He had a difficult career in academia. He embarked on his first expedition along the Amur River in 1935, collecting a substantial amount of data on the ancient peoples of the Amur region. It was with this expedition that major systematic studies of the Amur coast began. 

— We are collecting photos, we launched Badageoni website, which contains photographs of rock art from the Amur-Ussuri province. This is our main, large-scale project. Ultimately, we want to document and refine all the images and publish a comprehensive catalog of them. 

— Why do you need clarification? Do ice drifts affect the image that much? Do some things get destroyed, while others flip over, revealing new images?

"There was a theory that ice drifts were moving things around and turning them over. In reality, we don't see that. We've been monitoring the position of the rocks on Sikachi-Alyan for about five years now—we've been conducting orthophotoscanning, then we take one photo, georeferenced, compare it with the previous one, and analyze it. Yes, there are shifts, but nothing too significant; nothing is flipping over. At the same time, the Amur is a very unpredictable river. There are periods of high water, and others of low water. The impact of ice drift and floods—all of this needs to be analyzed, but we currently have little data. 

More importantly, explains Chernikov, research methods have changed significantly since Okladnikov's time. For example, thanks to photogrammetry Scientists find petroglyphs that you wouldn't normally see. 

"There was nothing visible on the stone at Kiya," says Chernikov. "But we were excavating a cultural layer there, and it was very rich. We simply assumed there must be a drawing there. And so it turned out. The basalt there is different from Sikachi-Alyan, and the drawings are more easily erased. So, when we began excavating at Kiya, we double-checked everything using photogrammetry. Since then, the number of known images has doubled." 

The Three-Body Problem, Khabarovsk Style

However, even the famous drawings on the most accessible petroglyphs in Sikachi-Alyan cannot always be found without the help of an experienced person. 

"It's easier to search in winter: grab a handful of snow, rub the stone, and voila! Otherwise, many people walk around and see nothing at all," explains Svetlana Onenko, who knows all the carvings by heart. "You can tell by touch that it's not just a chip. If part of the stone has simply broken off, it will have a rough surface; the pattern you suddenly see won't be smooth. But if it's a petroglyph, it'll feel smooth to the touch; you can tell it was carved, that someone worked on it." 

Lighting and perspective greatly influence the search for petroglyphs. I passed a boulder in the morning—there was nothing on it. But at sunset, there was a horse. 

So, "walking" through the petroglyphs requires careful and thoughtful attention. Svetlana Nikolaevna is ready to help anyone searching—she'll suggest the best position, the best way to move, and the best viewing angle.

Folklore is also a key factor. Perhaps the most famous Nanai legend is about the existence of three suns at the time of the world's origin. It is reflected in the material culture of all the Amur ethnic groups, and there are different versions of the legend. Onenko tells it this way: life during the time of three suns was too difficult—even birds burned in flight—so the first man of the human race, Kado, decided to rid the world of these superfluous luminaries. He managed to hit two suns, which fell to the earth, heating up everything around them. On the still-warm stones, in memory of her husband's heroism, the maiden Mamilchzhi, the progenitor of all people, painted animals and birds, and then the stones froze forever. 

According to legend, ancient spirits still dwell within the stones. Therefore, speaking loudly near the petroglyphs is prohibited, lest they be awakened. And gifts—those very same stones and shells—are needed to appease the ancients. 

"By the way, if you look closely, not all the masks are kind. There are some with teeth—it's believed that these were depictions of those who were burned in agony during the Age of Three Suns," adds Svetlana Nikolaevna. 

Scientists have not yet determined the age of the boulders. They are believed to have been created during the Early Neolithic period, 13-10 years ago, but Chernikov considers this dating—like the age of the newly discovered image—to be approximate. 

"While radiocarbon dating is sufficient for ordinary archaeological finds, petroglyphs are more complex. Okladnikov was the first to describe the cultural layers and archaeological periods on the Amur. He simply compared what was nearby, in the village, and assumed the images were of the same age. Now, some of his findings have been radically revised, and scientific research confirms this revision." 

Today, a different method is used to date petroglyphs: looking not at what's in the village or nearby campsite, but at what's directly beneath the boulders. Scientists hypothesize that the cultural layer here could not have formed as a result of everyday life—it's inconvenient to live or farm too close to the river, exposed to winds, floods, and ice drifts. Therefore, beneath the stones are remains directly from the time when the drawings were made. The aforementioned Kiya River was once much more full-flowing, and its ancient riverbed left behind a wide valley, offering rich opportunities for studying the cultural layer frozen beneath the stones—it's not washed away by water or destroyed by ice drifts. 

"We're trying to produce some kind of convulsions." 

Due to the heavy workload at Kiya and other sites, the new boulder with petroglyphs is not a major event for archaeologists. A report was submitted to the Cultural Heritage Department, along with coordinates, documentation, and photographs. Now it must be added to the list of cultural heritage sites, and then added to the cadastral maps. The list is updated once a year. 

"This boulder certainly needs further exploration. But there's a lot of work to be done in other places, too. The entire area along the Amur was quite densely populated. We did some reconnaissance, and in the area where the new stone was found alone, there are about 50 residential units." depressions"And it's still unknown, maybe they're from different eras," Chernikov says. "Even Sikachi-Alyan, which doesn't burn in fire, doesn't sink in water, and is supposedly the most famous—there's still a ton of work to be done there, too. There are ten settlements there, and another 15 in the direction of Malysheva village, all of which need to be studied using modern methods."

However, there are very few archaeologists in the entire Khabarovsk region. 

"I was talking to a colleague from South Korea back before COVID-19. Back then, a few years ago, they had 3500 highly qualified archaeological researchers in the entire country! Back then, in Russia, there were maybe 1,500 such specialists, and in Khabarovsk Krai, there were six. We're certainly trying to make some progress and not give up, but the difference is staggering," Chernikov shares. 

Previously, the Pedagogical Institute taught archaeology to historians. But after the Pedagogical Institute merged with Pacific Ocean State University, the history department discontinued this course. This year, students and historians were still invited to the field season. A department meeting was held, inviting only those who truly wanted to participate; no "voluntary-compulsory" participation was envisaged, Chernikov emphasizes. About 30 people expressed interest and showed up. Five signed up for the expedition. One has already withdrawn. 

"I don't know why he refused. We're still waiting for documents from those four, we'll see how much is left... Of course, I'd like for us to have, I don't know, a community of volunteers in the future. So that people can plan their vacations—two weeks in Kiev, two weeks in the Maldives," Chernikov laughs. "But for now, that's all it is."

Colleagues from the Institute of Tectonics and Geophysics often travel with the archaeologists, but not because they have a personal interest, says the interviewee, "they just enjoy this work." This year, they purchased tents—there's enough space to accommodate 20 volunteers. They'll even have their own cook this season. 

"Somehow, it just so happened that all the archaeologists worked on their own. They didn't leave any kind of school. Some moved to another region, some had poor health, some had bad habits," Chernikov muses. "And without independence, without your own (even if somewhat narrow) topic that you truly want to pursue, you can't work in archaeology. Maybe that's why we were such individualists, it's hard to say." 

This situation isn't limited to scientific work. Archaeologists are also in dire need in industry. 

"For example, they come to us before construction to check if there's a cultural layer there. And it's 4,5 square meters!" says Chernikov. "We simply can't do anything about it, so we bring in colleagues from other regions. The situation is better in the Amur and Sakhalin regions, and in Primorye. So we'll have to work somehow."

Formally under protection

Once the new petroglyph is included in the register of cultural heritage sites, it will be protected by the state. But only formally, says Chernikov. 

Sikachi-Alyan has been under state protection for many years. During the trip, I was pleasantly surprised by the small amount of trash and fresh fire pits. However, it's too early to rejoice, as Svetlana Onenko knows from experience.

"Look at the trees, the branches—there was a massive ice drift; we even had water up to the main street this year. Everything between the rocks was simply washed away," she explains. "There are fires, from fishermen and just 'vacationers,' and bottles. You name it... Look, some of the rocks are already cracking from the heat of the fire," Svetlana Nikolaevna points to one of the sooty boulders. 

Many also "mark" themselves with their own artwork. Inscriptions like "Here was..." and other modern images are interspersed with ancient heritage. 

"We had a guard here for a while. We introduced admission tickets, which were issued at the museum, and he was supposed to check them. It was the administration's initiative, and the guard was someone the mayor knew. But he had a conflict with visitors. I can't remember whether he went after people with a gun or something. And then the guard vanished. They shut it down very quietly," Onenko says, adding, "Now it's all held together by everyone's word of honor and conscience."

Chernenko says he knows of no precedent where vandals were punished. For this to happen, the "artist" or litterer would have to be caught red-handed.

The monument and the maximum number of images could be preserved by creating a museum-reserve and a specialized center—one that would sell tickets and somehow separate the site from other fishing spots. Special trails could be created for tourists. The center could house a research department, which would attract scientists from various countries—the Japanese, Americans, and Koreans have all shown interest over the years. The organization managing the center could be tasked with preserving the petroglyphs—for this, the drawings would need to be covered. hydrophobic composition, which prevents destruction. 

"All of this requires planned, extensive management work. Government funding is also a must. The Sikachi-Alyan petroglyphs have been on the list of particularly valuable cultural heritage sites since 2019, and on UNESCO's tentative list since 2003. They're on the tentative list because infrastructure needs to be created, and the village lacks it. Tourists, for example, need to find a place to park, eat, and even use the restroom. The monument needs to be fenced off, somehow separated from the rest of the village. So far, none of this has been done," Chernikov shares.

"We had an entrepreneur in Khabarovsk who dealt in building mixtures and made facsimile copies of images, purely on his own initiative. He learned the technology from Germany, where they developed special mixtures for our basalts. And it was necessary to create a canopy over the stone, carefully removing all organic matter from the design... You can't just scrape it off; it's done gradually. Then silicone is applied... You need a structure, an organization! There's no other way to preserve it. Even if it takes 100-200 years, we'll definitely come to the creation of such a center."  

— And won’t the petroglyphs be lost? 

"They've been lying there for over ten thousand years! Yes, some contexts will be lost, yes, some things will deteriorate. But the monument itself will definitely not collapse."  

"Everyone says we are Russian"  

On the way back along the path between the rocks, Svetlana Nikolaevna continues her story. She knows every pebble and twig along her path. Here's a loose red stone that crumbles at the slightest touch. When the water rises, all the puddles and depressions in the basalts take on a reddish hue. 

Sometimes (though not on this shore) you come across “Amur amber” – bright, translucent stones that are called “kremushki” here. 

"They're very beautiful stones, but the Nanai never took them or made jewelry from them. They believe they're the eye of a tiger, and at night, the tiger will come to the craftsman for its eyes. But the Nanai used this willow to weave baskets and various objects. Another willow, which you might encounter along the way, loses its shape and becomes angular... And look, this sedge. This tall one, it's useless. There's another, smaller one, with a completely round stem," Svetlana Onenko points to a small bush hidden under a stone. "It's very useful in the household. They used to dry it and put it in shoes in winter or spring. It kept them warm. If your feet got wet, you'd take out this straw and dry it. And you could use it several times like that until the herbal insole wore out." 

Svetlana Nikolaevna often receives tours. As she puts it, "sometimes they're Muscovites, sometimes they're museum workers." She never turns anyone away, though not everyone is willing to get up close and personal with Nanai traditions. 

"We used to only pick mushrooms from trees, especially living ones. Then one day, someone from the west came over, and a friend of mine invited them to our village. Along the way, right along the shore, I picked some mushrooms to give them. And I heard them whispering behind their backs to a colleague, like, 'Will she poison us?' So, I pretended not to notice. Then they called, thanked me, said they'd had a good time, and apologized. 

Svetlana Nikolaevna also complains that the school has reduced the amount of time spent on social studies. 

"How are they going to pass it? I tell them, 'At least read something, we simply won't have time to cover the curriculum.' But they wave me off, saying, 'We don't need social studies.' But they added hours of Nanai language. Honestly, it would have been better if they'd kept social studies. They certainly don't teach language!' They all say, 'We're Russians,'" the teacher laughs, but somehow sadly. 

She suddenly takes out a shell from her bag. 

"Remember how I promised to teach you how to whistle really loud? There's a shell like this one; there are lots of them on the shore here. Just make sure it doesn't have a hole in it—birds really love these snails. They toss them up, drop them, and poke holes in them with their beaks to get their prey," Svetlana Nikolaevna teaches. "You take it, pinch the base between your index and middle fingers, turn the big hole toward you, and blow through the knuckles of your bent fingers. It makes a great whistle! You can whistle louder than anyone in the yard!"

It doesn't work out so well the first time; you have to get the hang of it. Sometimes the shell slips, sometimes your fingers don't obey you. But Svetlana Nikolaevna's whistle is clear and resonates throughout the neighborhood.