For more than a week I stayed in Urals. Between the water and the sky, with mountains on the horizon and fresh air all around me, among the hospitable relatives – 10 days just flew by...

I’ve re-checked the further route, added destinations to the navigator and slightly serviced the motorcycle. The time has come to move on — to the “Olenii Ruchii” (“Deer Streams”) natural park.

I left early in the morning. By afternoon I was already settling in the village of Mikhailovsk. The place was chosen so that I could stay near the park but not to overpay for living on its territory. It took only 214 km to get to Mikhailovsk that day. Of which, 20 km lay along a forsaken gravel road crossing forests and fields. That surely added variety to the day. Otherwise the road was bearable tarmac, pleasantly with only a few cars on my way.

In the evening I was caught in a gusty wind with the speed up to 25 m/s. A black sky was ripped by lightnings — it was a real tropical rainstorm. The electricity kept going in and out. The owner of the hotel complained that this summer the temperature was 5°C below the norm and that it has been raining every other day for almost two months. Because of that, he added, he and his family couldn’t finish building their cottage and the potatoes they had planted were rotting away.

Yet, watching this weather from a warm and cozy room added some hygge-feeling. I was happy it didn’t catch me on the road. Gradually the sound and the smell of a pouring rain lulled me to a blissful sleep.

I spent the whole next day wandering in the “Olenii Ruchii” natural park. Walked 22 km, 15 km of which — barefoot. At first, I took the shoes off just for fun. But gradually the path became so muddy my sneakers were absolutely useless anyway. In the afternoon, as it started raining again, the trails turned into ankle-deep brooks that washed away the last reasons to put on any shoes at all.

I kept wandering among the rivers, rocks, forests, limestone lakes, grottoes and caves. Time itself started to feel sticky and thick as it slowly and non-linearly flowed down the tree trunks into the river at the bottom of the hollow. Not a soul around. Probably for this peaceful and quiet solitude I must thank the weather, the workday and my early arrival at the park.

The original plan was to stay there for another day. But due to some kind of yes-it’s-nice-but-I’d-better-not-stay-here-much-longer feeling, I decided to set out the next morning.

I jumped on my bike very early, and by afternoon got to the motorcycle museum in Irbit. In Irbit, legendary “Ural” motorcycles are produced to this day. Though the production volumes are very modest nowadays comparing to the USSR times. New “Urals” cost around $16k. As I heard, these are the only motorcycles in the world that come with a sidecar in the basic configuration.

Throughout the day, I kept pulling out and putting on warm clothes. Layer after layer, fighting off the cold. The weather in the morning seemed promising: 14°C, sun warmingly twinkled from behind the clouds. But, disregarding my expectations, the temperature suddenly went down to 11°C and a drizzling rain started.

Thus, I officially entered Siberia.

Driving past corn fields and rusty buildings in such weather felt like being in a Hollywood thriller. As oppressive music plays, the main character keeps driving and driving in seemingly obscure direction. Then he finally stops to have a rest at a roadside motel with a blinking sign, and there the most hardcore part begins...

Fortunately, having covered 530 km that day, I ended up in a bright hotel with a warm (ohhh, joy!) shower in Tyumen. The evening flew by as we met with beautiful Marina. We had some tea at the local restaurant, relaxed and chatted about hobbies, “true” callings, work, other people's expectations and some other existential trifles.

The next day I spent walking around Tyumen. For an hour and a half I sat  at the edge of the Tura river. I savoured this long-awaited sunshine, felt hypnotised by bright glares of a slowly flowing water and was sinking into personal inner processes.

Two young girls were sitting nearby.

They were cuddling tenderly, sometimes romantically looking each other in the eyes, exchanging light phrases and smiles. And gosh, how authentic they were in it, how fully present and… simply themselves. Sincere, open, calm. With absolute mutual attention, respect and care. Boldly, to some extent, but without the slightest touch of defiance or provocation... This state, this total being-themselves they were embodying... I want but can’t describe it with words. Unfortunately, they didn’t allow to take a picture.

Somehow, this occasional encounter became one of the most vivid and deep experiences of the trip. Some deep layer inside me has shifted. Apparently a big one, since I spent several hours trying to reassemble myself afterwards.

Isn't that what this was all about? You wanted depth? Here you go. Yet it took two weeks and three thousand kilometers to notice: the depth was with me and around me all along. And still, what’s next? Good thing, I had noticed it. But am I ready to dive into this depth? And how much more do I need to travel to finally be able to?