The sky was finally clear this morning, the thick, clouds that had been rolling in from the north are gone and the promise of a good day appears in the windows of the building across from Gana’s Guesthouse.This exercise, removing the transmission, is now familiar. I am even getting to know which size wrench to use for each nut that has to be loosened or removed. I know where to put the nuts and washers so none are lost. It is almost automatic.Ulaan Baatar to Moscow – 2
Saturday, September 09, 2006
The sky was finally clear this morning, the thick, mottled gray clouds that had been rolling in from the north are gone and the promise of a good day appears in the windows of the building across from Gana’s Guesthouse as silver reflections of the early morning sun. It is still cold but I know the afternoon will be warm. Maybe I can finally get a look at the clutch and find out what the strange noises are that I heard three days ago, maybe I will be lucky and it’s just a loose bolt, maybe…

The security guards at the guest house keep moving Max to make room for the larger cars and SUVs but this time they have Max perfectly positioned for me to work on him—behind the guardhouse and out of the constant wind that never seems to abate. This exercise, removing the transmission, is now familiar. I am even getting to know which size wrench to use for each nut that has to be loosened or removed. I know where to put the nuts and washers so none are lost. It is almost automatic.

I had hoped that when the mechanic we found on our first arriving in UB hadn’t tightened the bolts that hold the clutch to the flywheel enough; that one had backed out and was causing the horrible sounds I heard. I wasn’t so lucky.
The long female gear in the clutch pressure plate was worn almost round. The teeth that are supposed to be trapezoidal in shape were worn to sharp ridges and the gear from the transmission was badly worn as well. Not good news.

I am seriously questioning my ability to work on the bike. In the past, mechanical problems have been easy for me but for some reason I cannot seem to make a lasting repair on Max. I once put a new transmission into a 1964 Triumph TR4, I used to fix the kids’ motocross bikes when we were riding in Trabuco Canyon at Escape Country but every time I touch Max, the problems seem to grow.

I still have the same two options: fix Max or buy a new bike. I have sent Jim an e-mail and asked his opinion and suggested he send new clutch and transmission parts to Vladimir and see if they can get them properly installed. I also sent Vladimir an e-mail asking what used bikes he has for sale that are capable of completing our RTW tour. I learned long ago that if I do all the preparation and planning as well as I can, if I use the good thinking part of my head and not the part that simply satisfies my wants, the results will generally take care of themselves. The truth is that we want to do this tour with Max, but the reality is that we may not be able to.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Jim has suggested that Vladimir try to install an Ural transmission because DHL charges will be more than $700.00 USD to ship a Chang transmission to Moscow from Beijing. Vladimir is sure he can fix Max and make him ready to complete the trip but warns that it will take time (three weeks) and money (no estimate given). Then he asks, “How much do you want to spend on a new bike.” I just don’t know.

Thursday, September 14, 2006
The Letters of Invitation finally arrived last night. Today we can apply for our visas in time to catch the Tuesday train to Moscow.

We Are Outta Here! At least I think we are.

Tunga, Onko’s sister, helped us push UPS to deliver the Letters of Invitation as soon as they arrived and knew someone at the Russian Embassy so she offered to go with us to get our visas. As it turned out, the Visa Officer wanted some kind of control document that he said was needed in order to secure the visas. We had never heard of such a document but with a little discussion it was decided that the visas would be issued without it. Further, they would be issued for a full thirty days. This meant that we would have the time in Russia to wait for the bike, if it really took three weeks to fix. Maybe we could even get to St. Petersburg.

I had told Tunga that the cost to ship the bike to Moscow was $650.00. She shook her head, “Too much; I know the Vice Director in charge of the Baggage Section, we go there now.” She found the people she needed to see, talked with them and finally told me, “No problem, I think.” Next we found out about the customs declaration. “We will go to the customs office tomorrow and take care of it.” Next was the shipping crate; “I know a man, pay him 10,000 Tugrik (about $9.00) and he will take care of it.” Finally, “There are no baggage cars on the Tuesday train, it will go on the Friday train and two or three days after you arrive in Moscow, you can pick up your bicycle.” So there it is, we are on our way, finally, to Moscow and it appears to be trouble free… Right!

I once had the opportunity to spend some time with a world famous mentalist at the Magic Castle in Hollywood, CA. He was teaching me how to do some of the “mind reading” demonstrations he was so famous for. A part of the foundation of his remarkable skill was his belief that we are all connected by a kind of web, not unlike a spider web or even the World Wide Web. Introduce a thought into the web and that thought is transmitted to all who are connected to it.

I was thinking about our good fortune in meeting so many wonderful people in Mongolia and how much our trip experience resembled Bob’s web.
My very good friend, Zhang Shao Wei, from Changchun set the resources of Guo Yun Hai and his company in motion to help us when we were in trouble in Erlian (Erenhot)
When I had to ship Max to Beijing for repairs and needed a Mongolian guide, Guo Yun Hai’s assistance was invaluable
Tamara found Onko who helped her when she left Zamin Uud for Ulaan Baatar
When Agi, the young customs agent, came to the hotel in Zamin Uud looking for the foreigners to offer help if they needed it, Onko was there to assist and translate.
When I had to return to Erlian to get parts to fix Max, Agi introduced me to Chuka, the lady officer from the Mongolian Army who arranged my passage on the Orient Express and even went with me
When we shipped Max to UB, Agi’s wife, Shogi, arranged for us to stay at Gana’s Guest house and to have us picked up from the train station while Agi dealt with the customs people.
In UB, Onko’s sister Tunga helped us with UPS, and the train station and customs
Onko, Agi and Shogi, Chuka, Gana, Undra, Gana 2, and Tunga are all friends

What is even more remarkable is that all of this help was freely given, without bribes, or the expectation of favors owed in the future. Is this a part of the web that Bob talked about or is it just a group of wonderful people just trying to be helpful to a couple of old foreigners or perhaps a combination of both? What ever it is, I am grateful to be a part of this community, if only for a few weeks.

Saturday, September 16, 2006
In just four short days we will be on the Russian train to Moscow and we have been warned: the Russians smuggle gold and other valuables out of Mongolia, check your belongings every day to make sure someone hasn’t hidden contraband in your stuff; hide your passports and money somewhere on your body; travel first class so you can lock your compartment and eat together; Russians from the city are rude and always want money if they help you; and on and on and on…

First Class was sold out which meant that we would have to take a compartment shared by two other individuals. I wasn’t too happy about this and mentioned it to Tunga. “Ah, why don’t you buy four tickets for the same compartment and then you can have all the space for you and Janet? It isn’t too much more and you will be safer.”

Tunga kept mentioning that Moscow is very, very expensive and we should try to spend as little time there as possible. “I don’t have a choice,” I told her. “We must go to the BMW dealer there to have Max fixed so we can continue the trip.” “Go to the countryside and wait there, Moscow is too expensive.”

We have been so focused on Max and the short time left on the visas that I have not been thinking about route planning. However, the new visas were issued with now dates—September 19th to October 18th. Now, if Vladimir needs three weeks to fix Max, he has it and we don’t have to worry about leaving Russia and re-entering with a new visa. It also means that we may be able to visit St. Petersburg which had been one of the cities we had on our original ‘must see’ list.

But now I have to start thinking about Egypt. Our original route had been to travel from Istanbul to Lebanon, Syria and Jordan and then enter Egypt but with the current conflict that route is closed unless some miracle occurs. I am not going to hold my breath for that.

One possible route is to somehow get a ferry from somewhere to Algeria, Tunisia or Libya and ride east to Egypt and depending on the political climate in January or February, sneak into Jordan and then Israel for a quick exit to Cyprus/Turkey without getting kidnapped or shot. Then we can connect with Tamara to continue the ride.

In fact this route has some appeal. The Mediterranean coast of North Africa is rich in history with ancient sites like Carthage, Crenaica and the Barbary Coast; the Phoenicians and pirates like Barbarossa and a varied landscape ecology. To sweeten the experience, there are cultures that vary from Berber to Arab, Jew to European and ancient to modern. Just the kind of experience that we are looking for. When we get to Moscow we can begin to work on it; but now we have another task at hand—prepare Max for shipment to Moscow.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
The sidecar is attached to the motorcycle at four points: two ball joints on the lower part of the frame and two “knife and fork” joints on the upper part of the frame. Once separated we needed to build a crate for each piece. Tunga had told me that she knew two boys who could build the crates so I had willingly accepted her help based on the success I had with
her other suggestions. Unfortunately this time was not to be quite as successful.

They had arrived late with about a dozen 2X2 pieces of soft pine for the crate so the first job was to get wood. I assumed that the guys were experienced so when to material list for the wood was generated I thought it would be OK. But when the lead guy said,” “Now I have to go to work now, but Mungo can do it,” I started to worry. Mungo really had no idea about how to build a shipping crate. In truth, neither did I but I did have some experience in building things.

I had just graduated from high school and one evening my father said to me, “Tonight you are coming to the Union Hall with me. I am going to get you a bricklayer’s Apprentice Card and you start working with me on Monday morning. “But Dad, I was planning to take the summer off before I go to college,” I protested. Needless to say, I went to work the next Monday and spent the next five summers working as a bricklayer. During that time I acquired many skills, not the least of which was building scaffolding. Over the years I have built interior walls, attic offices and a host of other structures. Now was the time to transfer those skills into crate building.

The motorcycle crate wasn’t too difficult but the crate for the sidecar was a bitch because of the single wheel and no real way to support the side that attaches to the motorcycle. The second problem was materials plus I had no time to plan or even create a thoughtful sketch of what the crate would look like. It seemed that someone would say we need five more of
these and five of those and some nails and before I could comment Tunga would be off buying wood and nails.

We ran out of wood, we ran out of nails, we had no real tools and we were building what I thought would be a suitable crate with all the wrong stuff. In fact the results were horrifying! The bottom support pieces were 2X2s when in fact they should have been 2X4s or better still 4X4s. Some of these pieces were covered in bark, were split or full of knots.

We were supposed to be limited to 160 kg of luggage but were told that we could extend that to 200 kg per piece. I knew that the bike and sidecar weighed more than that. The bike, by itself had to be more than 200 kg. To make matters worse was the fact that Tunga had bought ‘wet’ wood because the lumber seller told her that it was stronger only made the crate heavier.. I had once been told that I should never ask for permission to do something, I should ask for forgiveness instead. Good rule of thumb when adventuring. So we continued until both crates were finished.

Monday, September 18, 2006

The sidecar crate was bigger than the truck that came to pick it up for the ride to the train station and it was heavy. Janet and I had taken some of the packed items out of the sidecar to redistribute and lessen the weight but it was still heavy. How to get it on the low bed of the truck? All of a sudden five guys walked up and decided that the easiest way to load the s
idecar was to turn it on its side and slide it on. “No,” I yelled. “No, not that way.” I had to physically restrain one man who had it in mind to up end the crate. Finally, they just grabbed the crate and lifted. I knew that the crate would break under the weight but it somehow held together. Step one done; now off to the train station.

There is a cadre of men with small, carts to help people with their baggage. The carts are less that a square meter and supported by three heavy-duty wheels. Several men surrounded us all wanting to transport the sidecar crate to the baggage area.

I tried to explain that the crate wouldn’t fit on their carts; that we needed to drive the crate to the freight door so it could be handled properly. What do I know, I’m just an American who has gotten used to the availability of good tools, the right equipment for the job at hand while being monitored by OSHA, the unions and god only knows what other governmental agencies. But I am in Mongolia where, and I hate to sound so trite, ‘necessity is the mother of invention’, a man’s income is only limited by his strength, experience and the need of money.

Within minutes, the man had the crate precariously balanced on his cart and was moving towards the ramp to the baggage room. Janet and Tunga followed the sidecar while I went with the driver to get Max.

When we returned, it was a repeat of the same process. Slide Max onto the small cart and wheel it to the baggage area for weighing. The sidecar weighed in at 315 kg and Max at 286 for a total of 601 kg.

We were told that the sidecar crate was 10 cm bigger than the baggage car door and that we are over weight. Tunga started her inquires. We went to the baggage control officer, to other friends and finally to the Chief of the Baggage the Department. The Mongolians really have no problem with the crates or the weight, it’s the Russians. The only way around the problem is to send a message to the Moscow train station asking for permission, which is usually granted, to ship heavy pieces. Armed with Moscow’s OK, the Russian border guards and customs officers can’t refuse the crates. No permission and it is very likely that they will off load the crates and demand that the owner retrieve them or have them destroyed! The Chief agreed to send the message.

We decided that we had to wait, again, to find out if Max would ship on Friday. I didn’t want to leave only to discover that there were more problems with weight, crate size, color or some other stupid rule that was born somewhere out in left field.

First we went to the Russian Embassy to pick up out visas. They were not issued for thirty days as promised but still had the same exit date as the Letter of Invitation—October 4th. This means that if Vladimir can’t repair Max in seven days, we have to leave Russia, get another visa, return to Russia and have two days to drive to the Ukraine! Next, we had to change tickets. Not a problem except for the bureaucracy. We needed four signatures at three different buildings in three different locations in UB to get a refund, less about 10% for processing. Tomorrow, we will buy new tickets but this time we have a private room in First Class reserved for us thanks to Tunga and one of her friends at the railway ticket office—I hope.

Thursday, September 21, 2006
We have managed to connect with Eric, a young Swede, educated in the US but who has been teaching English in Japan for the last eight years. He is riding from Tokyo to Copenhagen. We also met Alberto, an Italian and his Japanese girlfriend, Yuka, who live in Paris and are just finishing their two-up ride from Paris to Mongolia.

The immediate bond between us is remarkable. I have ridden motorcycles for a long time and there is a bond between bikers that is similar to all groups who have a common interest whether it be camping in a motor home, square dancing or other involved activity. But this meeting was different, more intense, more intimate, and more immediate.

“What are you riding?” “What problems have you had?” “What sections of road gave you trouble?” “How far is it from…?” These and a myriad of other questions were just the start of several conversations that occurred over two days.

Eric had just finished the 1,000 mile stretch of very difficult road in Russia that Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman of the Long Way Round had opted to use the train instead of riding and was proud of the fact that he did it—alone. Alberto and Yuka had made it across western Mongolia without a problem but were envious that Eric and Janet and I were still riding and both envious that Janet and I still had something like fourteen to sixteen months of ride ahead of us.

It must be the same with others who put themselves out there, often in harms way, sometimes with the thrill of real adventure and the unknown problems of accomplishing something significant yet, to me at least, indefinable. They understood our frustration of sitting for so long without a bike to ride and so many miles ahead and so many experiences unexperienced.

Eric leaves today to ride the southern route across western Mongolia, Alberto and Yuka leave Saturday for three weeks in Japan and Janet and I, we think, leave tomorrow for Moscow but there are plans to meet in Paris and ride to Copenhagen next spring. How cool is that? I finally feel that we are on the trip, that a connection is made and maybe all the hassle could be worth it. Today will tell. We should receive permission from Moscow to ship Max as baggage today. We should be able to buy the tickets and look forward to getting to Russia and Vladimir and be able to make a decision about Max.

As we get ready to leave UB and Mongolia, I cannot help thinking about our experience here and the differences between China and Mongolia. I don’t think I have ever crossed a land border where the people and culture were so completely different.

China Mongolia
The urban Chinese may be the best example of the “ME” generation in the world. This self-centeredness (meaning not only one’s own self but also that small circle of family and intimate friends) has its foundation in China’s massive population and the resulting competition it has generated

Most urban Chinese are seeking wealth as fast as possible and virtually any means to obtain it is OK. Urban Mongolians seem more balanced than their neighbors and while Mongolia has its own problems, they are not burdened with the massive population that pervades all aspects of Chinese life.

Mongolians seem to want to advance through more traditional (Western) ways. Certainly corruption is a part of the fabric of life here but in no way can it compare with China
Kids are not allowed to be kids in China because they are too busy studying everything that their parents think will give them an advantage over other kids. Janet and I both commented that the sound of kids playing and laughing was such a wonderful change from China. It was just good to see kids having fun and deriving all the benefits of being allowed to be a kid.
While I absolutely hate the Chinese education system I can find no workable alternative. Seeing kids go to school from 6-7 in the morning and not leaving the school until 5 or 6 at night (sometimes 9 pm), I know they are being robbed of their childhood for the sake of a good education. In fact this good education is substandard by western measurement As I understand it, the school day is divided into two sessions of approximately six hours each, the morning for younger children and the afternoon session for older students. I cannot comment on the quality of education that the kids are getting but both Janet and I commented on how refreshing it was to listen to kids playing and laughing during the day.
Chinese are so bound to history, custom and tradition that I wonder if they will ever emerge for the medieval mindset that is so ingrained.

But one must consider that China, until very recently has grown up without any cultural, traditional or philosophical influence from external sources. China is and will remain a kind of cultural Galapagos in a world dominated by multicultural nations Mongolia has the benefit of and suffers from not having a cohesive culture until quite recently. Even though Mongolia did not become an independent nation until the 20th century, Mongolia still celebrated its 800th anniversary this year.

Certainly Genghis Khan plays a key role in Mongolian life but so much of this history has been lost over time.
Corruption is rampant but probably no worse than in other developing countries. Not only is practice a continuing theme in all aspects of life, it is a very traditional system having its roots well established in its long history. I have been told by business owners here that corruption does exist here but from what I have witnessed at the train stations, both in Zamin Uud and UB, it is something less extreme than in China.
China may be red but after traveling from Changchun to Beijing to Erenhot (including the Gobi Desert) I will always remember China as green with endless fields of corn, rice and grasslands. Both countries are magnificent but the open space and the vast landscapes of unblemished land of Mongolia appeals to me more than the cultivated fields of the China that I know. But here again is the price that China pays for its population.
China is not a consumer; it is a devourer/destroyer of resources, another problem spawned by its massive population.

One example of this is the Chinese appetite for snake. At one time China was buying snakes from Myanmar. The government had to intervene because snake hunters, in an effort to supply China with this epicurean delight, had so reduced the snake population that it was upsetting the balance of nature in the Myanmar jungles.

I know there is no way to adequately compare China and Mongolia. It’s like asking if someone likes bananas or football. The truth is that I love each country. Each has a special charm and each has its own kind of magic for me. However, these are some of the thoughts that go through my head when I am riding or just have too much time on my hands and you, my dear readers, have to take the good and the bad.
Friday, September 22, 2006
We have our approval to ship the bike as baggage! We have our tickets. At 1:50 pm we leave Ulaan Baator for Moscow with a five hour stop at the border to clear Russian Customs and Immigration.

We managed to get to the Parking lot in front of the train station with at 1:35 pm. Had to run to the freight office to pay for the bike’s freight and still made it to the train with a few minutes to spare. All the luggage was stowed by the guys that had helped ue with the bike earlier in the week so there was time for a real good-bye to Tunga and Janet and I settled in for the four day ride to Moscow.