For MT Helicopter companies will fly skiers to the mountaintops of Kamchatka, a peninsula in the Russian Far East that is drawing an increasing number of hardy travelers.

MALKI, Kamchatka -- Gena is a tour guide in shorts who exudes an odor of cigarettes and exertion, and as we sit by the fire in a dusty campground, he recounts a story about his black Labrador retriever, Fenya.

Once a Japanese skier was buried in an avalanche here in the Far Eastern region of Kamchatka, and Fenya bounded to the spot and dug him out.

But the point is not the dog's heroism. The point is the perfidy of foreigners. "Afterward," Gena says, "the Japanese guy gave the dog an envelope with some money in it as a thank-you, and the sum was so ridiculously small, everybody stopped talking to him for the rest of the week."

Uh, how much did he give the dog?

"Five hundred dollars," Gena says bitterly.

Welcome to Kamchatka, a remote and beautiful land of volcanoes, hot springs, Pacific harbors -- and an abiding conviction that foreign tourists are naturally occurring automated teller machines that have a tendency to shortchange the user. Kamchatka is a destitute region whose economy is based on poaching fish and stashing the profits into Swiss bank accounts. Perhaps it should surprise no one, therefore, that when some local tourist firms look at you, they see a plucked turkey in Nike boots.

Any traveler is familiar with the experience of burning money at a faster rate than one thought possible. What stings in Kamchatka is the unreality of the tourist market. In the two most popular hotels on Kamchatka, foreigners pay $60 to $75, while Russians pay about $10. Taxi drivers charge five times the rate you would pay in Vladivostok, the Russian Far East's largest city. The trip with Gena's firm -- a 26-hour excursion to dusty hot springs where you sleep on an over-inflated rubber mattress and dip in fungus-clouded mineral waters -- sets you back $50 per person. If you went on your own, admission to the hot springs would cost 40 rubles (about $1.40) per car; walk-ins are free.

So why go to Kamchatka at all? Simply put, the scenery is stunning. The peninsula -- which extends like a great flipper into the Pacific at the same latitude as the Aleutian Islands -- is drawing increasing numbers of hardier travelers: Fishermen seeking unspoiled streams, hunters hoping to bag a bear. A backpacker willing to catch local buses to the trailhead and hike without the company of a guide could find bargains in Kamchatka. And even the big-ticket items such as helicopter-skiing are bringing thrill-seekers from as far away as Austria.

Ingo Skulason, an Icelandic businessman, moved here in the early 1990s to open tourist and construction companies. "Eight years ago I was sitting by a lagoon in south India, watching the sun go down through the palm trees. I said, 'You know, this is really, really nice.' But my friend said, 'I know a place that's even better: Kamchatka.'"

As an American reporter who lives in Vladivostok, I found myself in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky recently chasing stories. I decided to sample several typical tourist outings in between interviews. They ranged from the visit to the mineral springs with Gena to a helicopter trip to a place called Dolina Geyzerov, or Geyser Valley.

My conclusions were mixed. Kamchatka is one of a handful of areas in Russia that has the potential to spark an economic turnaround with the help of tourists' dollars, euros and yen. But it's best to choose wisely in a place where the day rate for a camping trip ($50) bears no relation to the nation's average monthly income of $74. Most tourists, however, seem to book tours with Western firms, which presumably provide some built-in quality controls as well as extra costs.

I arrived in Petropavlovsk, the main city with a population of 265,000, on the Day of the Fishermen, a holiday that brought thousands of people down to the harbor to eat grilled pork and wander the waterfront with bottles of beer in hand. It was a lovely introduction to Kamchatka -- clear skies, cobalt seas, snowcapped volcanoes. The town itself is as ugly as any provincial Russian metropolis with boxlike apartment blocks. But in Petropavlovsk this is less oppressive than elsewhere. Your attention is on the sea and the mountains.

For MT Seals lounging on the Komandorsky Islands.

A few days later, my girlfriend and I took a helicopter ride to Dolina Geyzerov. A 24-seat chopper whisked us north along the coast, over a military base where a tank was bounding through an obstacle course (a moment for reflection on the changes in history: Twenty years ago, Soviet pilots shot down a Korean Airlines passenger jet that strayed over this heavily armed peninsula). You land on a hilltop above a valley filled with gurgling geysers that boil over and spout every 20 minutes or so. The visitors stroll along boardwalks through this nature reserve, enjoying the spectacle of bubbling mud. After several hours, you return to a cabin atop the hill for a meal: caviar, smoked fish, stew, salads, fruit, vegetables, candy and beer.

Then you board the helicopter for the return trip, circling an erupting volcano and flying over a crater lake filled with pastel-blue, scalding-hot acid.

We made arrangements for the day trip, which costs $160 per person, through the Avacha tour company located in the hotel in Petropavlovsk by the same name.

The Avacha hotel, where we stayed, is clean, pleasant, but Soviet in its design, and its "Japanese" and "Chinese" restaurants serve nothing but Russian food. During our time in the city, we experienced several flops, including a "Korean" restaurant with cockroaches creeping across the walls (Russian restaurants of any level are usually clean, and our friend, a Russian journalist, berated the manager). But our hotel cafe was pleasant, and eventually we found the Slavyansky Restaurant on Ulitsa Tushkanova, which offers nice food and atmosphere, and bravely provides an English translation of its menu:

"Steak with ovum" (steak and eggs).

"Chicken tobacco" (chicken tabaka, an Armenian dish including no smokable substances).

"Baked crab with funguses and paprika" (they mean mushrooms).

"Fillet an auk on metropolitan" (no idea).

At the Slavyansky, we were joined by Larry, a Texan in yellow cowboy boots whom we met on the helicopter trip. He peered at the menu suspiciously.

"Do they have blackened catfish?" he asked.

"Unlikely," I said.

"How about blackened chicken?"

"You won't find blackened anything anywhere in Russia."

Gloomily, he ordered a pot of stew and a margarita. It came in a martini glass. "No salt," he remarked.

For MT A man reading a novel while sitting in the Malki hot springs. An excursion to the springs costs $50 per person.

Still, I was pleased with my beef stroganoff and dry red wine from Georgia.

In the end, there were many experiences we didn't get to. In the central peninsula is a village called Esso, where people grow grapes and lemons in greenhouses fed by hot springs, and you can take an excursion to visit indigenous people who herd reindeer. And the peninsula is also a winter destination. For cross-country skiers, the snowy wilderness is limitless. Helicopter companies will fly skiers to the mountaintops, and a lift runs within Petropavlovsk city limits.

Serious climbers can arrange ascents of Avacha and Mutnovsky volcanoes. Hunters can hire a guide to take them bear shooting, and most tour firms offer fishing trips. You can take a daylong sailing trip to the Tri Brata -- a bay overlooked by three sibling rock formations.

Paratunka, a village near Petropavlovsk's airport, has numerous resorts with mineral springs, most of them Soviet-style sanatoria, but also including Golubaya Laguna, or Blue Lagoon, a more Western-style swimming pool filled with geyser-heated waters.

Several international tour firms are intent on creating a high-class tour base -- something like an Alaska-style fishing lodge -- somewhere in Kamchatka. Skulason's firm, Genstroi, is attempting to develop such a center, and he flew off to inspect a spot the week I was there.

As on any trip, some of the best moments are those you can't book in advance for a busload of tourists. A Kamchatka businessman served us a dinner in a dacha decorated with five bearskins, and we swam in his pool fed by a hot spring. We talked with Russian journalist friends about their victories in fighting for an independent press. And even our overnighter with Gena -- the low point of our trip -- had its moments.

Steaming after dark in a mineral lake filled with mustachioed babushkas, hairy guys with big guts in tiny swimsuit, and a topless young woman, I stared at the full moon and thought, This is like no place I have ever been in my life.

But I also pondered what would happen if, heaven forbid, I were to slip into drowsiness and disappear in the hot water. Forget personal danger: I couldn't afford the price of a rescue.