More on the ride 02/04/2011
 
     I guess its time to give an update Blog on the “No Looking Back Tour”. Although, it seems that’s all I did in Russia was watch out for crazy, speeding drivers trying to pass while playing chicken with on coming traffic.  
     We managed our way around the Moscow fires, with the help of a Russian map book Jim bought in Finland. Of course the book was in Russian so it did not coincide with the Russian maps I had from the US. 
     One day we found ourselves lost in the back woods near the city of Kirov. This was the day I figured out my Garmin GPS, with the Russian maps downloaded, was inaccurate. We were riding a nice paved road though the countryside, when the road became smaller and smaller, then dirt. According to the GPS only 3.5 miles of dirt then back to pavement and a fine secondary road. After a brief discussion Jim lead the way, right up to a giant tree that alyed across the road (trail). A quick look we found a alternative route around the tree. It was a trail cut through deep dense forest. Jim and I agreed it was a lot more work to make the bypass than it would have been to remove the large tree that was obstructing the main path. This seemed to be a typical Russian theme. We pushed on for miles and miles (much more than 3.5) until we came across some deep sand. For those of you that don’t know deep sand is an off road motorcycle nemeses. Sort of like freezing drizzle is a road bike archenemy, the sand takes special attention to navigate on a dirt bike. Now that I set the stage I feel comfortable to tell you I fell. I got up and fell again. I think I fell a total of six times before I finally remembered the technique for sand riding. Luckily, Jim in order to make me feel better fell, once. It was getting late in the day when the GPS told us to head south to the rivers edge and cross the bridge to find the next town three miles down the road. It was nice to know we were getting close to a town where we could gas and eat. When we got to the dock, I guess we will call it a dock, because it didn’t reach the other side of the river we stopped. Side note: When you travel it is very important to travel with someone whose emotional cycles are opposite from your own. This way when you are up, you can lend a hand of encouragement. This also means they can give kind words, to bring your spirits up. If not you find yourself looking for a large stick to knock the snot out of…. Hell anybody. After falling all afternoon, being lost in the backwoods of Kirov, realizing I had very little ability to navigate, and finally coming to a bridge that was 50 feet short of being a bridge, I was done. Jim on the other hand was in an up swing and took charge and off we went riding north along the rivers edge looking for a bridge.  We did find the bridge although it would be another 100 or so miles before we would find a known paved road. We ended up pushing on well into the night riding in you guessed it freezing drizzle. This turned out to be a long day even longer when we reach the Hilton, in Perm and found out we had crossed two times zones that day. Instead of getting in a midnight it was 2:00 am. Oh did I tell you, we were warned not to ride at night cause the mob will get you. 
       Now Perm has an interesting side story, and her name is Olga. Since we got in so late and it was freezing, we decided to take a day off in Perm. Olga was the Russia gal that worked the front desk and had a beautiful smile. I made a list of parts that the bikes needed (tires, fork seal, etc) and she called the motorcycle shop in Barnual (1000 miles down the road). She spoke Russian of course and had them order the parts. This might not sound like that big of deal but it saved time. 
        Normally we would ride into a shop I would play charades, pointing, hopping around, and drawing pictures until I got my point across. Then the shop would order the parts and we would sit around for a week waiting for the parts to arrive. But not this time, Olga placed the order and a week later when we arrived the parts were there. Thanks again, Olga. Want another interesting story? Olga came over for a visit. She flew to the US where she met up with Jim. They paled around for a couple of weeks seeing the sights. Back to the story.
     We were also warned not to camp (by many people) because the bandits would slit our throats. Good enough reason for us to push on. Russia doesn’t have many roadside motels. This means we had to ride from city to city in order to have a safe place to sleep, both for the bikes and us. That brought up another problem, riding into major Russian cities. We would set off early in the morning and ride to the next city that had a hotel, usually 400+ miles a day. No matter the weather, traffic, road conditions it didn’t matter we rode to the next city. 
    Once in the city, finding a hotel was difficult because they looked like apartment building, Soviet era hotels, square block buildings. The outsides were stained by decades of pollution, while the interiors were top of the line motel 8 quality and of coarse considered 4 stars.  All of the hotels had guards to watch the bikes, which was a must. The final ride into Vadivostok I hired a cab to show us the way to the Hotel and we followed behind. Half the fare up front the other half when we get there. This was an excellent way to get around to bad it was the last night when we figure this one out!
      A couple of time we did find a roadside motel. One night we stopped, right before a rainstorm and still day light (just like I like). We got a good night sleep and even ate at the motel restaurant. I chatted with the security guard while Jim inspected the room.  You would think with all the other excitement we had a nonevent at a roadside motel would not be worth mentioning. Well the event happened the next day. We packed up, gassed up and rolled out like we had done for 3 straight months. The next city was 12 hours away and we were riding a mix of half paved half sloppy muddy roads. It was going to be a long day. About six hours in Jim frantically pulls over and tells me he doesn’t have his phone. After months on a bike it’s pretty easy to tell if you have lost something because everything has a place (front pocket, left side, small camera, earplugs case. Left side jacket pocket, controls to the heated gear. Left, front pants pocket carries fake wallet, which contains $25.00 in different currencies, fake credit cards, used to hand over to thieves while the real wallet with documents and cash is in right front pocket). Jim went through his bags, boxes, and jacket, he came to the conclusion we left it at the motel. Not that big of a deal he was looking to upgrade anyway. We rode the rest of the day know we would cancel the service in 6 hours when we reached the next city. What we didn’t know is the security guard, who thought was doing us a favor, was calling everyone in Jim’s phone trying to get the phone returned to us. With the time change it was the middle of the night when Jim’s mother received a call from Jim’s phone, from a man-speaking nothing but RUSSIAN. 
      Then he hangs up and calls Jim’s dad and so on down the list. Jim’s entire phone list now thinks we have been kidnapped and are being held ransom. All they can do is sit and wait for the next call with instruction on where to send the money.  When we got to the hotel we used the Internet and made our calls. We cancelled the service on the phone and assured everyone we were fine, but poor Jim’s mother.
 


Comments

Jens P, Denmark
02/04/2011 8:14am

Nice to hear how things went on after leaving scandinavia, now we look forward to hear the rest of the story.
Thanks for your efforts to keeps us informed. I really enjoy to read your tellings. Best regards from Denmark

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