Nissan QASHQAI faces a Siberian cold front

More than 2.3 million Nissan QASHQAIs have been sold globally and, since 2014, the small SUV has been produced for Russia at the Nissan plant in St Petersburg.

The new QASHQAI will tackle a surge of new models from other manufacturers and will feature the option of ProPilot autonomous driving technology as well as nips and tucks to the bodywork.

The upgraded QASHQAI will debut in the USA this year but, as the Americans have ‘difficulty’ pronouncing the name, Nissan North America will be branding its vehicles as ‘Rogue Sport’.

Ahead of the revised QASHQAI arriving Down Under late this year, motoring.com.au travelled to Siberia to test the made-in-Russia version of Nissan’s compact SUV in conditions family buyers would undoubtedly baulk at.

Lake Baikal in Siberia is the world’s oldest and deepest lake. In the winter months, it freezes in a bizarre, transparent fashion that has made the shoreline a tourism hotspot. The frozen surface has also become an adventure playground for every type of vehicle.

With temperatures dipping as low as -40C, the ice here can freeze to 58cm thick. During WWII, it was strong enough to support a makeshift railway line, so the weight of a QASHQAI shouldn’t cause any alarm -- or so you might think…

Baikal is regarded as one of the most magical lakes on Earth. Scientists say it contains 20 per cent of all the freshwater on the planet. To put that in perspective, if every person in the world drank 500 litres of water a day, Baikal would take 40 years to drain.

Just reaching east Siberia is an adventure – you start with a three-and-a-half hour flight from London Heathrow before boarding another five-hour flight towards Mongolia. Irkutsk is the capital of the region, the most popular stop on the Trans- Siberian Railway, and a good base for the drive out to the western shoreline.

Moscow is a contemporary city but rural Russia remains an old-fashioned mix of 1970s Australia and fur hats. The centre of Irkutsk naturally plays to tourists, with streets of immaculately restored 19th Century buildings that have been converted to cafes, bars and restaurants.

Otherwise, the dusty thoroughfares hang thick with smog and dirt as cars, trucks and chimneys belch out smoke 24/7. The people are made unflinchingly tough to survive the harsh climate but naturally there is a warm welcome at the Nissan dealership.

The glass-fronted building is pretty much like any other dealership, anywhere in the world. Except here the emphasis is on cars with heated seats and windscreens – Russian QASHQAIs feature a toughened glass roof that can resist the attention of a brown bear.

Not surprisingly, Siberian drivers love their SUVs. The roads are at best potholed and it’s nothing to pass from a stretch of cracked tarmac onto a duel carriageway of dirt without the slightest warning of the hazard ahead.

The major arteries out of the city are patrolled by police officers armed with speed guns and their Lada patrol cars act as makeshift offices, attended by a constant stream of minor offenders paying-up for their crime in hard-earned rubles.

It’s a surprise how anybody could pick up a speeding ticket on these routes; apart from the craters and cracks, there’s little opportunity to overtake and road markings are imaginary lines in the dirt.

It’s just 65km to Lake Baikal and, along the way, our Russian hosts want to show-off some of the ‘highlights’ of the region. In the tiny village of Malta, I drive by locals filling water buckets from a standpipe, schoolchildren shivering at the bus stop and a village shop lined with empty shelves.

The route then makes a detour through woodland to an abandoned health resort, started in the Soviet 1980s but never completed. The ruined accommodation blocks are now used for anti-terrorist training by Special Forces and anything not nailed down has long been snaffled by the locals.

It’s a relief to reach Lake Baikal, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1996. Not that the local populace has contributed much to the scenic outlook -- cheap-looking shops line the shore, music pumps out from a pizza restaurant and I get the feeling the 21st Century hasn’t quite reached these parts yet.

But turn around and the view across the lake is otherworldly. A biting wind has swept in from the east, sweeping snow from the surface to reveal the crystal-clear ice below and the water is so pure you can see deep into the darkness.

Cracks allow the water to oxygenate, creating a breeding ground for strange fish and freakish plants. Soon the calm is shattered by an ancient Toyota sedan spinning across the surface in a series of perfectly formed doughnuts. Good luck attempting that at a UNESCO site anywhere else, but here anything is possible.

Now it’s my turn to have a go. I point the QASHQAI towards the shore and gingerly follow the Russians out onto the lake. The sat-nav says I should return to the designated route but this is much more fun and reassuringly, with studded tyres, the Nissan offers more grip than I anticipated.

I’ve previously tackled some tough off-roading in an old Nissan Patrol and these days we can forget how much ability even a modest SUV offers. My QASHQAI may be kitted on the inside with leather and fancy trim but it’s still a capable off-roader.

I’ve been told to listen out for cracking ice by keeping a window open – and seatbelts aren’t used on ice, to facilitate a fast getaway if the worst happens. That’s unlikely but it is March and daytime temperatures sometimes briefly climb above freezing.

So when I break away from the group for a photographic opportunity on what looks like a fault line, I have no idea what is about to happen. Lining up the perfect QASHQAI publicity shot, there’s an almighty bang as the Nissan slumps down on its chassis.

I doubt Usain Bolt could have moved faster but a group of onlookers 450m away also felt the apparent seismic shift. It seems I’ve managed to ‘break the ice’ with the Russians because they are all running towards me in an animated state.

It turns out the other rule of driving on ice is not to stop on a large crack – even if it affords great photographic opportunities.

Fortunately, my rescuers have a truck with monster wheels for just such an eventuality – although such an event hasn’t happened in a long time. The QASHQAI lives to float another day and I’m the toast of the bar when the vodka is opened later.

SUV owners rarely get a chance to see what their 4x4s are capable of off-road, but my advice is lay off the ice and stick to the tarmac.