The 5200km dash across Western RussiaThursday 9th August (11903km)
Awoke to fine weather and a perfect temperature. Dried the tents and set off on great roads and amazing scenery. This is the Russian Altay, kilometre upon kilometre of mountains rivers, passes and snow. Woohoo!

We were again the centre of attention when we stopped at a summit. I say we but really it is Mario and his bike. Mine is too dirty and gangly wheras his is low, black and BAD. Women just love to drape themselves over the Africa Twin and strike poses. If I was the husband, I would be out buying a bike like that, pronto. When I come to think of it, the Russian bikers I have met have all had babes as girlfriends so there is something about black bikes.
Saw a few Mongolian Rally cars including a Morris 1000 and also lots more "Trans-Syberian Rally" vehicles. Most were Porsche Cayennes but also a couple of Suzuki Vitara and a couple of Nissans. There were many huge support trucks as well. There seemed to a large number of uncommon vehicles on the road so postulated that they were Mongolian Rally "support" vehicles or perhaps unofficial entrants.
After lunch we stopped by a huge stand of wild cannabis. Upon closer inspection, cannabis was growing everywhere in the warm humid climate at lower altitude! It would be terrible to be caught downwind of a road-side fire, one could lose all compulsion to save oneself.

Came to the river I-have-no-idea, an enormous glacier-fed river full of rubber rafts. This is quite the tourist spot with camp-sites and souvenir stalls everywhere. Also idiots in abundance. I seriously fear for my life in the presence of these guys, it's a long way from here to Not-Russia.
Rode the last kilometres to Gorni-Altaysk and asked directions form what turned out to be an enthusiastic and meticulous sort-of German speaker. It took at least 15 minutes to get away including him making sure we had his hand-drawn map the right way up. By the time we rode to the hotel, he was already there, just checking that we had read his map correctly. We checked in to a Soviet era hotel, Mario's first. He had stayed in road houses before which are all new and set up by enterprising people. We had chosen the big hotel on Lenin square as giving the best chance of registration, that other relic of Soviet times. Foreigners must register with the police within 3 days of entering the country and any time that they stay in one place for more than 3 days. Sometimes the hotel can register you directly but if not a trip to the OVIR office must be made. It is also expected that you will keep hotel receipts and travel tickets so that there is circumstantial evidence of your track through Russia. All very bizarre and of course thrown into chaos by motorcyclists who camp.
Anyway the hotel can't register us and it is a shared-toilet affair with only one shower for the whole building on the first floor which costs R30 and is cold despite the 45 minute warning that must be given so that the shower can warm up. Be careful of the water pipe across the doorway at trip height as you enter the room. The designer obviously didn't anticipate that people would want heating in their rooms.
It is clear that the designer didn't think of much, let me describe the toilet. There are two toilets on each floor, one for women and one for men (OK so far). You open the door to a vestibule containing a hand basin (Still OK). Through the vestibule is another lockable door that opens onto TWO toilets separated from each other by a screen. So unless there is synchronous entry and exit, then there is no privacy. Of course in true Russian fashion one of the toilets is unservicable being covered by a plastic sheet and a suspiciously stained stick. That cubicle does however contain the only toilet paper, of that harsh waterproof variety favoured by Russian hard men.
We take a bus ride to the internet cafe. When we reached the end of the bus-route without spotting the cafe, we asked the bus driver, who in turn asked the conductress who in turn asked all the passengers as we retraced our route into town. We were eventually set down right outside the door. Kicked out at 9pm, hungry for news from home.
Back to the hotel which is on Lenin Square and turns out to be a hang-out for young things. So the noise and bottle-smashing carried till late. No relief from the noise as we cannot close the small open window, all the others being gorilla-snotted closed. What hope is there for these relic hotels, plumbing sticky-taped together and leaking, structures in a tragic state of repair?

Friday 10th August, 12147km
A trip to the OVIR office is required but neither receptionist has any idea where it is nor what is required. A woman at the airline ticket agency offers to help, she speaks English and is good-looking, doubly blessed are we. She rings around and after about half an hour has the address and a name. We take a cab (bizarrely shared by an old woman in a cloak who neither speaks nor moves the whole time) and we find the address. There is no external sign of an OVIR office and is not until after we have tried several entrances that we are directed through a cafe and a video game room to the stair to the OVIR office. Again we are greeted with ignorance but our guide has a name and leaves us in her care. Meanwhile our guide rings a travel agent friend and after about an hour we have been registered, the registration costing nothing but the fixer R500 each.
Back to Lenin Square in search of coffee. We have tracked one down in the upper level of the only mall when I spot Bev and Anthony. This is a couple that I had met on the 28th June on the Chita road in company with Gillian, Rosemary and AB. Mario had also met them in Ulaan Baatar I think. What are the chances of three parties meeting again more than a month later on the upstairs of a crowded mall in the middle of Russia? So we coffeed, chatted and Pizza-ed for a couple of hours before setting off just as the rain started.
Rode north-west and camped in a birch forest meadow 75km from Novosibirsk. The meadow itself is full of wild cannabis. If only I was a smoker, I might never leave!
Saturday 11th August, 12,505km
Nic's party day.
Rode the 75km to Novosibirsk during which we saw the results of one accident and was almost involved in another. We had slowed for road works when the car behind me was shunted from behind. The shunter had swerved left to avoid the collision which took him over the centre-line into opposing traffic. I had a glimpse of smoking tyres as the oncoming car braked hard and then exited the road onto the verge. Gaargh! More idiocy later as a car passes a whole line of traffic barely avoiding the oncoming van and then overtakes the truck at the head of the queue on the gravel verge.
When near the centre of town, I hired a taxi to lead us to the DHL office. The chain and sprockets were there and so headed out, buying oil on the way. I had made a good call on the replacement sprocket and chain that I picked up in Novosibirsk, both are almost completely worn out.
Rang Nic at 9pm their time as the party got underway. Great to hear everyone's voices and that Nic knows that I am thinking of her.
Camped in a meadow watching the sunset while drinking beer and eating smoked fish and bread, perfect! Just in case anybody has noticed a pattern here, I would like to say that it was only one beer and no animals were mistreated in the making of the occasion (except for the fish who deserved it).

Sunday 12th August, 13,140km
Rain in the night and a windy morning. Had decided to power-wash the bike prior to changing the chain and sprockets. The bike is a grease pile from the leaking oil seal and the dusty roads of Mongolia. So we ride into Omsk just as rain starts again. We stop at a car dealers and ask for directions and he invites us in out of the rain. He draws us a map and while the rain eases I go in search of chain grease. The chain itself has begun to disintegrate, shedding rollers which has scored the rear sprocket that I will not replace. I will need to molly-coddle the rear sprocket if it is to make Athens.
Mario meantime purchases new socks which have become an abomination. I use foot deodorant so the only place I don't smell is my feet. Marios socks are intense competition for his 10-day old shirt.
Head off to the car-wash, Mario narrowly avoiding a pedestrian who was crossing at the right time. We were later accosted by said pedestrian who we came to understand did not appreciate being maltreated. I can't say for sure since we didn't share any words in common but that's the gist of it. No blows were traded so he can't have been that upset.
Installed the new parts in pouring rain, Mario providing excellent support services. Afterwards we repaired to a Turkish cafe and dripped on their floor for an hour and a half as we ate lunch.
Headed out of town missing a turn off and taking the direct road to Chelyabinsk (good) via Kazakhstan (bad). Instead of turning back we decided to take the side road that was meant to join up with our road but this ended in a bog. It did hawever lead us through a small village where the only ellegible male was escorting the only ellegible female under the watchful eye of a murder of crones.
Rode on to Mendalenki again attempting to repair our original error. We stopped at a cafe on the junction and asked directions. It wasn't the way but if we rode a further 40km, the proprietor had heard that there was another road!
Invited by a cafe client to an unknown destination. The problem being, the less we understood, the faster she spoke. After a hair-raising but thankfully short drive in a clapped-out Lada, during which it was ascertained that Ira was as pissed as a newt but supremely confident, we arrived at a cell-phone tower. Around the back were 4 other people cooking Shashlyk, yum! Spent a few hours reiterating the few facts that our common languages allowed and then headed back to the cafe. The intervening hours had done nothing for Ira's state so I took the opportunity to remind her of the presence of the cafe before we powered across the main road. The brakes on the Lada were evidently in good condition!

Their faces have been blurred to protect their identity

It was by this time late and cold so we were invited back to Ira's digs which she shared with another couple. This was accepted on the condition that she wasn't driving and that we followed on the bikes. In true Russian fashion we had to visit somewhere else on the way for some unknowable purpose over all the most degraded back roads in the area.
We arrived at Ira's house which was actually fairly flash. It was a brick and tile house with large rooms and on a large property. The slavvering small black dog on a very short leash welcomed us. It is a strange thing that dogs on short leashes never seem to anticipate the end of the chain. Each frenzied rush is terminated by a strangled yelp as the chain snaps taut.
We were made welcome but the promised banya never materialised and there was no tea or coffee. Eventually tiring of Ira on the Karaoke machine we kipped down, me on the sofa and Mario in the verandah.

Monday 13th August,
Awoke early and waited for our hosts to arise. I had time to notice the building. The walls were square and the ornate ceiling panels were square but the panels were rotated with respect to the room, not just by a little but by a whole 400mm along the length of the room. Of course the doors jammed and the toilet was barely large enough to get into and close the door. Plumbing was rubbish. The rest of the house was well maintained and clean but there is no cleanliness in service areas.
Two great cats, like my cats at home but the colours and sexes swapped. Mario had been woken by one of them ingesting a rat under his bed in the night.
As soon as our hosts had arisen, we made our thank-yous and exited. We were guided back to the main road which was good because we had no idea where we were.
Rode to the next junction and set off on the 180km cross-road. Generally good road with sections pot-holed or gravel.

Tuesday 14th August
Things become a trifle vague here. My pen ran out of ink so I didn't fill in my diary each day. In the general vastness and sameness of this part of Russia my recollection is blurred.

Wednesday 15th August

Camped in a meadow by some trees just east of Samara

Thursday 16th August

Discovered a 0.5m black snake two yellow stripes on it's head while on the way to the toilet. It slithered away when I approached. I must admit to never really considering critters even though we often camp in long grass.
Riding west to Volgograd.
My bike coughs twice as we ascend a hill and after that I notice that it idles at about 4000rpm. This is almost unnoticeable on open roads but whenever slowing for villages or checkpoints, I must use the kill-switch to control the speed. After about 50km I signal Mario to stop and we pull over into a gas station. Quickly have the carburettor out and notice that a piece is missing from the air control valve. It is this piece that caused the engine to cough twice, once as the piece went through the inlet valve, once as it passed through the exhaust valve. The piece is now most probably trapped in the muffler. The air control valve now has a hole in it which cannot be repaired. New parts must be shipped out.
Another call to my long-suffering friend Leigh. I think it is quite a business getting parts and organising shipment and this is the 4th time. The sat-phone is again invaluable allowing me to e-mail from anywhere. There is no point waiting here for parts so will ride the bike as-is the 1300km to Sochi on the Black Sea coast and have the parts delivered to Trabzon on the Turkish side of the ferry trip from Sochi.
Camped in a hay meadow by a stream where a wash was enjoyed by all.

Friday 17th August
Rode on to Volgograd. It is very hot with a tail wind so my leg on the right hand side gets very hot
There is a big accident on the entry to Volgograd which I must ride around or risk stalling.
Saw the big statue of Mother Earth, a memorial to the soldiers of 1941-1945 but did not wish to ride the streets with the bike as it is.
Camp in the dacha district of Kamensk by the river. It is a mud and sand bottomed river and quite warm but refreshing. Two swims in two nights, this is doing my reputation for slovenliness no good. A camp fire tonight

Saturday 18th August
More boring, hot roads today. We eventually reach Krasnodar and on it's outskirts come across two cows trying to cross the motorway. Where else but Russia!
Ride into the mountains that separate Krasnodar from the sea. There is an immediate drop in temperature and with smooth winding roads the riding becomes interesting. We stop for the night by a stream shaded by elms, a beautiful spot. There is wood for a camp fire and...beer!

Sunday 19th August, 16899km
We joined the Black Sea coast after about about 50km and immediately suffered culture shock. After 5000km during which the most people we saw were the road police, suddenly there are hundreds of people walking along the road and randomly crossing it. People are camped in every nook and cranny. The reason for all those roadside stalls selling inflatable novelties becomes apparent. They sell to people coming here!
The prospect of another 150km of this is daunting with my bike the way it is.
Indeed it is a hell which takes 4 hours. By the time we reach Sochi, we are both hot and tired. We decide to ride south down the coast during which I run out of gas, less than 400km on a full tank where other times I have done 394 before even reaching the 150km reserve. By tilting the bike I manage to get another litre to continue. The bike must be kick-started because I have already exhausted the battery with frequent starts in traffic. The humidity is very high down here on the coast and the sweat is dripping out my sleeves. We gas up and return to the town centre since we had no idea where we were going anyway. There is also no room at the inn and the snooty receptionist at the Hotel Moskova is none too helpful. I purchase a tourist map and we try the hotels on the way south of town. Mario has a very good rule, never make a decision on an empty stomach so we stop at a Turkish restaurant for dinner. Refreshed we ride off and get a room at the next hotel. It has a long unpronouncable name but contains a Caesar Palace casino so that is what we called it. The R3080 twin room rate includes breakfast but $75 per night each is pretty steep. We park the bikes and thankfully hit the showers. What a day!
The hotel is on the beach promenade where all the beautiful people come to be seen and so we go and see them. The urban myth about Russian women being dumpy and stiff is soooo untrue.

We nip down for a beer on the beach and take a swim in our underwear since speedo's are de rigeur here (especially on fat men).
Back to the hotel to wash some clothes. Mario's shirt has not been washed since Ulaan Baatar which we left on the 2nd of August!

Monday 20th August, 17109km
Breakfast in the hotel, all traditional Russian tucker. I can't seem to work up an appetite for red cabbage or slabs of cold meat in the morning, delicate flower that I am.
Down to the most expensive internet place in the world at NZ$9/hr but we are gagging for news of home and especially a reply from Leigh who has been incommunicado.
We walk along the promenade to the downtown area to hopefully book a ferry out of this town. It is a mite busy at the beach.

The booking office is closed until 9:00am Tuesday. There is a ferry sailing at 4pm on Wednesday. Oh no, nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. I am only unsettled by the life blood draining out of my wallet.
Lunch at the Turkish cafe and then a snooze before joining the slow-broiled throngs at the beach (or is that the brown oiled thongs?).

Another observation of Russian customs
My impression of Russian service is that to do nothing is their preferred option. From there it must be remembered that "No" is just the opening position in what is a negotiation. It is then possible to negotiate a different outcome, even where the outcomes are Yes/No and not a matter of degree. All the sulkiness and apparent rudeness are just bargaining strategies to achieve doing nothing. The extreme is the two-hour lunch break or the complete disregard of the presence of customers.
I guess that there are generations of people who grew up with nothing to sell so their business were limited by supply and a transaction filled the time of day. Now in a time of abundant supply, the time for each transaction limits turn-over and hence profit.

These observation came about when on two occasions we wanted something and were flatly told that it was not possible. On both occasions we asked again more emphatically and the answer was yes. There is no embarrassment or regret at their contradictoriness, that's just the way it is.

Tuesday 21st August, 17109km
Down to the ferry booking office to find that it doesn't open until 12 midday! Hang around Sochi downtown for 3 hours in the markets. These people are not employees so they actually tout for business and serve the customers. The markets are all very temporary, the most substantial construction being a shipping container. I take the opportunity to photograph MacDonalds because when searching the internet for images of Sochi before my trip, this is the only one I found.

Back to the queue where there is actually a queue. The knowledge and wisdom of Slarty Bardfast has reached to these far-flung regions and so I was 5th. Since No. 1 took 37 minutes to get his ticket, it looked like a long wait but I was out of there in an hour R7000 lighter but inestimably happier.
This will be so-long to Mario who will head north tomorrow so we treat ourselves to a dinner on the promenade. Financially not my best decision! Head back to the hotel for a beer but gag at R300 each, not when you can buy it for R45 on the promenade (which we did).
It is a big night on speedway corner just across from our hotel. It is a tight bend on a two-lane one-way road. 2am is the optimum time for record attempts I believe.

Wednesday 22nd August, 17109km
Today is the big day. We are up and away by 9am, which is fortunate because it is not easy to reach the ferry loading point. You can see it, oh yes you can see it but it is on a one-way street that can only be entered via the north pole. I may exaggerate here but some patrons resorted to riding up the street the wrong way after a few failed attempts. We had a map so only failed twice.

A tearful farewell from Mario as he set off back to Germany. We have shared many a bush camp and evening beer in harmony, I guess because of our similar abilities and a mutual respect. I will certainly miss his cheerfulness and his appreciation of the moment.

The first thing that I discovered was that the ferry wasn't even going to begin loading until 6pm (an 8 hour wait) so I employed some of that time putting a newish tyre on the rear. I had anticipated that the tyre I had left Ulaan Baatar with would barely reach the western border of Mongolia. However the tyre just kept going, eventually carrying me a total of 9000km. I had carried the spare tyre 7100km across Mongolia and Western Russia!
More time was spent loafing around in parks, at the internet, in the markets and sleeping.

It was 10pm before we were allowed to enter the loading area.
Loading took an age with some of the crummy vans being given a thorough working over. Two cars were actually rejected and sent away! We cast off at 12:30 am but only to cross the 500m to pick up the walk-on passengers. Final departure was at 2:30 am.

Good-bye Russia

I slept in various locations (after-deck, dance floor and coffee lounge), having booked a seat only and the seat cabin being very stuffy. Today Russia, tomorrow Turkey! I can't wait. Russia has been such a foreign place. I have travelled a fair bit and there are some things that you expect to change such as religion, customs, and race. Then there are some things that don't change such as commerce and a locals belief in their own security. It must be a unnerving thing to feel the need for thick steel doors and to expect things to be stolen.