Troika and Tarantass

A Russian troika:

This type of sleigh was murder to ride for anyone cursed with short legs. A trio of horses was harnessed to it, their coats white with pendent icicles and hoar-frost; as they ran, the driver stopped them from time to time and cleared the thick icicles from their nostrils and muzzles. The central horse ran in the shafts, his head fastened in an enormous wooden head-collar. This was bright with painted colors, but forced him to trot ceaselessly with his head held high, a brave sight yet surely taxing to the beast; meanwhile his companions on either side were harnessed by cord traces to splinter-bars attached to the sides of the sleigh. They galloped while he trotted, their necks arched in a direction opposite to that of the central horse. There was a jingling bell suspended from the peak of the central horse's collar, and the sight they made as he briskly trotted and they galloped at his sides, was very picturesque. A troika with a well-trained team could cross the Russian steppes at the spanking rate of twelve miles per hour.

Source: Burnaby, Fred, 'A Ride to Khiva', 1877

A Russian tarantass:

"Has the reader any idea what the vehicle called tarantas in Russian is really like? Capable of being driven over rocks, boulders or, as a matter of fact, over any imaginable surface, it must have been invented in the days when no roads existed at all. It consists of two long, springy poles, about four inches thick, placed parallel and bridging the two wheel axles to which they are attached. A large wicker-work body, broad enough to hold two people, is placed between the two poles in the centre between the axles. A light seat is sometimes fixed inside the body, and the more luxurious tarantasses are provided with a hood. The coachman perches on a small seat over the fore-axle and the whole contraption is harnessed to three horses, the one in the centre running between two shafts. When passengers are about to leave a posting inn, a mattress covered with a feather blanket is spread over the bottom of the body. With a little luck one is able to snatch some sleep stretched out at full length provided the doing is not too rough. In theory, the springy poles are supposed to take up the bumping, but in actual practice they are usually so stiff and strong for the sake of solidity that one is mercilessly jolted about or bounced to and fro if the pace is hot. Because of this, and the fact that as an inspecting Senator and consequently an important personage I was always driven at top speed, we called the tarantass a 'horse-powered liver-massaging device'.

"After the comfort of the saloon railway-carriage which had conveyed our party to Kabul-sai the transition to the mode of locomotion I have just depicted was something of a shock. We spent a considerable time in stowing away our travelling impedimenta and securing everything properly with ropes of plaited horsehair under the watchful eyes of my valet and cook, whom I had brought with me. The cook in particular took great pains to see that all his paraphernalia, such as saucepans, pots and pans, were nicely bedded in hay and placed in strong wooden crates. Before we had gone a few kilometres every crate was smashed to splinters and with great amusement we watched the cook distributing the contents among the native horsemen. Anything more ridiculous than the sight of these wild-looking sons of the desert each gingerly trying to balance a coffee-can or some other cooking utensil is hard to imagine. At the next inn everything was repacked into felt blankets and stowed away inside the tarantasses.

"Our departure from the inn was quite dramatic. First I was asked to take my seat in one of the unhitched vehicles, and then a Kirgiz coachman appeared and mounted the so-called box. He was dressed in a long kaftan, which looked for all the world like a dressing-gown, round which was wound a broad sash. On his head he had a small cap made of white felt and shaped like the little paper-boats we used to make as children. Round the top of the cap was a broad black band, much favoured by the local coach-drivers. Next, he made ready with a length of measly-looking horsehair rope, presumably the reins. Suddenly a door, of what looked like a keep or fort, was thrown open and out rushed three shaggy horses, wild-eyed and neighing, with about eight men hanging on to each-screaming, yelling, and trying to hold them in. This first glimpse of a scene later to become so familiar was really very diverting: the kicking and rearing horses, the little brown men in long kaftans doing their best to get at the horses' heads, the hubbub in a foreign tongue and the utter phlegm of the onlookers. After a lot of hard work the middle horse was at last backed into the shafts which were then quickly strapped to the collar and secured by the duya (a curved wooden bow over the horse's head). The coachman threw the reins to his assistants, who tied them to the bit; the off-horses were rushed up, their traces fastened, and, with t loud 'Aida!' (forward!) from the driver we set off. The entire harness was made up of knotted bits and pieces, like the reins, and how it held is a mystery; but anyway it stood the strain of the first wild jerk into a gallop and continued to hold as we drove off as fast as the horses could carry us.

"There was no question of skilful driving. The tarantass went bumping up and down like a boat on a rough sea and the only thing we, the unfortunate passengers, could do was to sit tight and try to avoid being hurled out. After about three kilometres the horses calmed down and took up a steady trot. Mercifully, the driver had somehow managed to keep to the road, a mere track consisting of two ruts. The worst roads in western Europe are better than anything one meets in Turkestan. 'Road' is really not the correct word; one just drove anywhere, following well-worn ruts leading in the right direction. When things got too uncomfortable and jolty one turned aside and drove over the sun-scorched grass of the fields, the meadows, or the steppe. The amount of dust raised by the fine, loamy soil would horrify a Westerner. A following wind smothered one in a thick layer which clung to hair, beard, and clothes, turning one into the parody of a powdered actor and colouring one's face a sickly yellow-brown. If the road was stony, as was often the case, the tarantasses bounced all over the place; the number of screws, bolts, clamps, and spokes we lost is past reckoning. The one thing 1 am certain of is that at the end of the journey I was presented with a handsome bill for repairs and that at every posting inn there was a lot of hammering, joining, and repairing.

"We kept to a steady pace of from fifteen to twenty kilometres per hour and usually stopped at a posting inn every twenty or twenty-five kilometres to change horses. At all these inns there was a clean waiting-room where one was handed a long fresh towel to rub the dust off one's face. Washing, I was told, was not recommended, for fear of blisters. There was also a boiling samovar, and tea on request was dispensed by a friendly, motherly creature. At the beginning of our journey we used to get out of our carriages at these roadside inns to avail ourselves of the comforts they offered, but after a while we became indifferent to the dirt and dust and sat patiently in our respective carriages, thereby speeding up the change of horses.

". . . From Kabul-sai the road runs east for seventy kilometres through one of the most and deserts of Turkestan till it reaches the district town of Chimkent, lying in an oasis of the same name. It took us three hours to cover this distance, including the time spent in changing horses."

Source: Count K. K. Pahlen, Mission to Turkestan, 1908-1099

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Last Updated on August 25, 2001 by Sylvia