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Shun’ga

Opening times, access and services can change - check before you go.

The black rock that wellness shops sell around the world as shungite takes its name from this village. Shun'ga sits on the Zaonezhye peninsula, the long, ragged finger of land that pushes into the northern part of Lake Onega, and the deposits of this odd, carbon-rich stone, unique to the area, have been known here for centuries. Peter the Great is said to have sent his soldiers to drink from a nearby spring whose water was believed to have healing powers, and the stone and the water are still the subject of local pride and plenty of exaggeration.

Shun'ga was also, for a long time, a trading village of real importance. Its winter fair drew merchants from across northern Russia, who came across the frozen lake and rivers to trade furs, fish and goods from the south. Today the village has around sixteen hundred people, wooden houses, a church and the quiet, slightly forgotten air of the Zaonezhye villages, which have been losing population for decades. The landscape is lovely: low ridges, meadows, birch and pine forest, and inlets of the lake everywhere you look.

The peninsula is famous for something else too: across the water lies Kizhi island, with its wooden churches, among the most extraordinary examples of timber architecture anywhere. The road onto Zaonezhye is narrow and often rough, with gravel sections, potholes and soft edges, and it winds through forest and between lake inlets with frequent short climbs and descents. In wet weather it can be muddy and slippery, so a lighter bike and some patience are an advantage.

Services are scarce here. You may find a small shop in the village, but fuel is a serious question: Povenets, at the top of the lake where the White Sea Canal begins, is about twenty-eight kilometres away and small, while Medvezhyegorsk is the nearest proper town for fuel and supplies. Plan accordingly and carry extra water. In summer the white nights make it possible to ride until very late, and the light on the lake at midnight, pale and silvery, is worth every pothole on the way in.

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