North Baikal

I awoke to see the sun and set off to try to find a fix for the foot peg. Almost immediately I met a Russian guy on a motorcycle and he led me to his garage where he had some an extra foot peg that fit with some welding and improvisation. Incredible how I always seem to meet people at the right time! By midday the sun had been replaced with clouds, but fortunately it came back out in the afternoon and I decided to ride south 45km to the village of Baikalskoe and was rewarded with some spectacular views:

The next morning I awoke early – I would have to retrace my route back almost the entire 180km to Magistrali. The rain held off all morning and the road proved much easier during the day and slightly drier (no doubt the foot peg helped as well!). On the way back I had a chance to see some of the scenery I had missed at night:

I made it to Ulkan, the turn off for the road to Zhigalvo 300km south, in good time and thought I could easily make it to Zhigalvo by early evening. You've heard that by now and can guess what happened... The road was in truly bad shape – whereas the other dirt roads had been hardpacked enough not to turn to mud, the Zhigalvo road was much looser dirt and had turned to deep mud in many places making for very slow and treacherous going. In between the mud it had long stretches of potholes and corrugations. After about 100km I heard a noise coming from the front brake – I stopped to inspect it and incredibly one of the front brake pads was worn completely down to the metal! When the mechanics in Ufa replaced the disc I had given them new pads to install. That was less than 3000 miles ago – the pads are usually good for over 15,000! The other pad looked barely used – the mechanic in Ufa had incorrectly installed one of the new pads and it must have been wearing against the brake disc the entire time. Thankfully I had saved the old pads which still had plenty of life and I was able to change the brake pads on the side of the road or I would have been riding with no front brake.

This caused me to lose more precious daylight and I was pretty upset at this point – at the morons in Ufa for screwing up an extremely simple job and at myself for not checking their work or just insisting on doing it myself in the first place. To be fair it was just some bad luck, overall I've been extremely impressed with the ingenuity and mechanical skills of Russians – they can fix nearly anything it seems, probably a necessity when you have roads like this!

I once again didn't make it to civilization before nightfall. I won't relate another woe is me tale in full, but suffice it to say it was a very bizarre night and I met many strange characters.

South of Zhigalvo the dirt roads continued, but they were in excellent condition, following the Lena River and passing through many small villages. In Tsarist times many prominent revolutionaries were exiled to these communities:

These are the days that must happen to you

Listen! I will be honest with you;

I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes;
These are the days that must happen to you

Walt Whitman - Song of the Open Road

The next day I didn't manage to get on the road until the early afternoon – Wlad had insisted on cooking a very filling lunch and I was still tired from all the riding since Ufa and not planning a very long day. After about 400km I decided to stop for the night and set up camp some distance off the road – one of the great things about riding in Russia is that is possible to camp nearly anywhere. In most places it is very easy to find secluded spots to camp that are easily accessible from the main roads.

I awoke early and continued east to Tulun where I had a decision to make – whether to continue east 600km to Irkutsk and then on to the south Baikal region or turn to north towards Bratsk and then make my way east to Severobaikalsk and north Baikal and from there make my way south. Tony, an English rider living in Moscow had recommended a new dirt road to me. As recently as several years ago it was impossible to drive between north and south Baikal. The new road linked the two regions together between the small towns of Ulkan and Zhigalvo, a distance of 300km with no fuel or even permanent settlements. Tony had added the caveat that the road was in good condition, “depending on the rain,” - I should have given this more thought!!

Here are maps showing the route from Tulun-Bratsk-Ust Kut-Magistrali-Severobaiklask- back west to Ulkan, then south to Zhigalvo and Olkhan Island:

View Tulun-Ust Kut in a larger map

View Ust Kut to Olkhan in a larger map

I decided to turn north and headed towards Bratsk. From Bratsk the next real town was Ust Kut, a distance of 400km. I had no information about this road – and mistakenly thought I could I cover the 400km before dark. I had assumed the road would be decent, Ust Kut is a town of nearly 70,000 people and I imagined it would be well connected by road. As I've learned it is dangerous to assume anything about Russian roads!! The 400km was nearly entirely dirt – in good condition in some places, awful in others with extensive potholes and corrugations.

In the future when I write potholes it doesn't mean that the road has a pothole here and there, it means the road is potholes. In places the roads are just a series of holes – they are unavoidable and beat the hell out of the bike and rider. In any event it was much slower going than I expected and would become even slower! After stopping at a cafe for dinner I noticed a strange squeaking noise coming from the rear of the bike. I pulled over and in the fading light inspected the bike – nothing was immediately apparent – I noticed small hairline cracks in the paint near the top rear shock mounts and thought this could be the cause. I was still 120km away from Ust Kut, but decided to ride very slowly until I could inspect the bike more closely. It was obvious that I wouldn't make it to Ust Kut before dark, and I began to look for a camping spot. Stupidly I passed up two good spots while it was still light thinking it would be easy to find another, it wasn't. The road was following the Lena river, on my right, and on the left was the BAM railroad. In many places it was too steep between the road and the river to camp, I was also reluctant to camp too far from any civilization because I don't like the thought of bears as neighbors! So I continued on very slowly in the dark and fog, it would prove good practice for the following night!

Eventually around 10:30 I found a suitable place for camping and unloaded the bike and inspected it with my headlight. The cause of the noise was immediately visible – the rear subframe had completely broken on both sides! This part of the frame basically supports all the weight in the rear – the passenger, any luggage, etc. The weight of my luggage and extra fuel combined with the pounding the bike has taken on the roads must have been too much for it.

This was worse than I had expected, but there was nothing I could do about it so I set up camp and had an excellent night's sleep. Woke up in the morning to find I was much closer to Ust Kut than expected, it was only 30km away so I decided to jettison the fuel in the rear tank to ease the load on the bike and slowly made my way into town.

The Lena River at dawn:



In Ust Kut I parked in the main square to collect my thoughts and think of what to do – almost immediately a group of men took interest in the bike, and with much pointing and gesticulating I explained that I needed a mechanic. One of them got in his car and led me to a car service center and explained the problem to the mechanic. The mechanic immediately set to work taking apart the rear of the bike and improvising a fix. He cut some solid steel bar to fit inside the broken hollow subframe bars and then welded the broken sections together. He also welded the hairline cracks I had noticed around the suspension. Everyone at the shop was very friendly and very surprised to see a motorcycle from New York! They only charged me 300 rubles ($10) for almost two hours of excellent work and I was on my way by the early afternoon.

I thought about trading the Scrambler for something more suitable:

Once again it was raining, it was cold as well – low 50s. There was no choice but to ride, fortunately the 150km from Ust Kut to Magistrali was a good dirt road – much better than yesterday's road from Bratsk.

The road passed through rugged terrain, paralleling the BAM railroad:

I reached Magistrali around 5 in the afternoon and had to decide whether to continue riding or stop for the night. It was 180km from Magistrali to Severobaikalsk and I assumed I could make it before dark easily if there road continued on in a similar condition. While thinking it over during a break in a cafe a drunk accosted me and asked where I was going. When I explained he warned me that it was dangerous to go this late and that I should spend the night in Magistrali. I should have listened to him, but he was starting to really annoy me and I figured I knew better so I decided to press on.

Magistrali was a vaguely depressing place:


Friendly kid, thoroughly drenched me, and wise drunk guy:


Within 30 minutes of leaving Magistrali the first of my many problems that night happened. I missed a road sign and decided to turn around to check it out – while doing so I managed to drop the bike in the wet gravel on a hill and snapped off the left foot peg. I was able to replace it with the passenger peg, while doing so I met some friendly police who wanted to take a photo with me, several of them were more or less inebriated, including the guy taking the photo so it is out of focus:



After this delay I continued on – the road, however, was in much worse condition than I had experienced earlier in the day. The surface was constantly changing with many long stretches of potholes and it was still raining making the road very muddy in places. While taking a short break I saw that my side bags had nearly fallen off the bike – the bags are mostly held on to the bike by two wide straps that go over the seat and connect the two bags. One of these had broken and there was nothing keeping the bags in place really. All the other smaller retaining straps had broken earlier! I was able to jerry rig a fix with some extra bungy cords, but this took more precious time and it was quickly becoming dark and even colder.

I decided there was no choice but to continue on. It was in the upper 40s and I was cold, wet, and in no mood to camp this far from civilization - this road was the most remote I had yet been on. The forest pressed in on both sides of the road, in the 180km between Magistrali and Severobaikalsk there are no towns or villages and I only saw two cars the entire distance (no doubt in part because I was the only one stupid enough to be out at night in this weather!).

The road was getting worse and worse because of the rain and it was no joke to ride in the mud at night with a bike weighing over 500lbs. At one point the road was flooded and there was no way around it - I was forced to ride through over 18 inches of fast moving water – adding wet feet to the list of miseries. In these conditions I had no choice but to ride very slowly and I would soon be riding even slower.

While stopped to try to check out a bag that had been giving me trouble I managed to drop the bike again and snap off the left foot peg again!! These things are supposed to fold out of the way... so much for that. There was no obvious fix – and I wasn't about to start fiddling to improvise something on the side of the road at 10 at night in the rain with bears sniffing around. I rode the last 50km to Severobaikalsk with my left leg hanging off the side or resting on the shift lever. To make it even better the road got even worse at this point – it was passing over mountains and was very rocky in some places.Fortunately I had a GPS waypoint for a guesthouse in Severobaikalsk and there was still someone awake at the reception when I finally arrived at midnight. Interesting night to say the least.

Across the Urals

To make a long story short I eventually flew to Germany via Moscow and picked up a replacement disc in Heidelberg, returning to Ufa two days later. After nearly three weeks in Ufa I was ready to resume the journey:

My destination for the first day back on the road was supposed to have been Chelyabinsk, but I found myself at 1am in a banya in Yektarinburg drinking beer and eating smoked fish naked with two strangers some hundreds of kilometers from Chelyabinsk. After about two hours from Ufa I stopped at a cafe for lunch. I saw two other motorcycles there - they belonged to Sasha, 43, and Daniel who was my age, and who was riding with his girlfriend Olga. They were returning from a bike party and Daniel and Olga invited me to their home in Yektarinburg, it was some 400km away, and not on my route, but they promised that the road there would be beautiful so I decided to join them. It was beautiful, sunny day and Sasha knew a great route through the Urals. An incredible feeling to be riding a motorcycle on a sunny day through beautiful mountains with people who, even though you just met them, you know are good and that they are enjoying this as much as you are.


In Yektarinburg we stopped where the local bikers meet every night then went out to dinner before going back to Daniel's house. He lives with his parents, grandparents, Olga, and their 11 month old daughter in a beautiful house outside Yektarinburg with big gardens and a traditional wooden banya. The banya is an important part of Russian culture, and quite possibly their best invention.

A traveler's account from 1153:

"Wondrous to relate, I saw the land of the Slavs, and while I was among them, I noticed their wooden bathhouses. They warm them to extreme heat, then undress, and after anointing themselves with tallow, they take young reeds and lash their bodies. They actually lash themselves so violently that they barely escape alive. Then they drench themselves with cold water, and thus are revived. They think nothing of doing this every day, and actually inflict such voluntary torture on themselves. They make of the act not a mere washing but a veritable torment."

Olga left us boys to the banya and we sat around drinking beer, eating smoked fish, and swapping stories about motorcycle riding into the morning. I left late the next morning after a massive breakfast prepared by Olga. It is already clear that what I will remember most vividly about Russia are the many kind and warm people I've met.

The 1000km from Yektarinburg to Omsk was too much for one day so I spent the next night camping by the side of the road falling asleep to the sound of the Trans-Siberian train.The ride in to Omsk the following day was a nightmare, it started raining heavily and then took me nearly three hours to ride less than 20 miles because of traffic. It was a relief when I finally arrived at Anatoly's apartment. I had contacted Anatoly over three weeks earlier when I had originally expected to be passing through Omsk and had stayed in touch with him while in Ufa and he graciously offered to host me whenever I passed through. Anatoly is a fellow rider, and it was very nice to share riding stories with him - he has rode in India, Bali, and Malaysia and occasionally writes articles for Russian motorcycle magazines.

The next morning my first task was to identify the cause of an alarming sound from the front wheel that I had noticed just outside Omsk. With Anatoly's help it was quickly located – the “mechanics” in Ufa, where I had stored the bike and who had been so friendly, had insisted on replacing the disc themselves. They had neglected, however, to use thread lock and properly tighten the bolts on the front brake caliper and one of the two bolts had fallen out. Fortunately the second one was still in place, or I would have been looking for another front disc, or even worse not writing this!!

This was only the first of several problems that I had because of their work – to make it even worse they ridiculously overcharged me for something I could have easily done myself. I was too fed up with the whole ordeal to argue at the time, but I definitely learned my lesson to be careful about who works on the bike and to double check their work. Fortunately Anatoly had several bolts in the correct size and we were able to quickly replace the bolt and I was on my way to Novosibirsk.

In Novosibirsk I managed (with some difficulty) to meet up with my host Semen. I was actually getting quite frustrated on the phone because of the language barrier, Semen doesn't speak very much English, but he would turn out to be one of the friendliest and most hospitable people I've met. After meeting up he took me to try "New York" pizza, apparently some American opened a chain of pizza shops in Novosibirsk back in the 90s, let's just say I'm ready for a real NY slice!

After dinner we went back to Semen's apartment and had a second dinner. There were three Russians from Kazan returning from a two week hiking trip in the Altai mountains staying with Semen. Over a traditional Russian drink of vodka and honey they showed me some, the Altai looks very beautiful and I am looking forward to passing through this region on my way to Kazakhstan. Later we were joined by five more Russians from Tatarstan, they were passing through Krasnoyarsk in their car and Semen was hosting them too! I had planned to continue on the next day, but I needed a break and Semen was quite insistent that I see his city so I spent the day exploring Novosibirsk. It is the largest city in Siberia and the third largest in Russia, but not a very beautiful city to be honest. Went to the zoo and saw what I hope to be are the only Russian bears I meet on the trip:

Semen and his girlfriend were truly generous hosts, Semen was so worried I'd be cold in Mongolia and Kazakhstan that he gave me his winter jacket. I tried to refuse, but he wouldn't let me. As I write this several weeks later I can say that the jacket has already seen much use and is greatly appreciated!

I left Novosibirsk with the intention of riding the 800km to Krasnoyarsk in one day. It took me over an hour just to get out of Novosibirsk and it was almost midday by the time I was on the M53, the main road running across Siberia. Once again it rained off and on, and even though I was making good time it was clear I wouldn't be able to make it before nightfall. I normally never ride at night by choice, but I decided to continue rather than camp, arriving in Krasnoyarsk at nearly 11pm after an exhausting 13 hours on the bike. I met up with Wlad who rides a Yamaha 125 and who would be my host for two nights in Krasnoyarsk.

The next morning Wlad and I located the store where the tires I had ordered several months ago were waiting for me. Later in the day we took a ride south along a beautiful winding road to check out the Krasnoyarsk dam and the Yenisei River:

Sunday Wlad and I rode over to the garage of Yura, a friend of Wlad's and a motorcycle and car mechanic. Many Krasnoyarsk riders prefer to do most of the work on their bikes themselves and Yura lets them use his garage while acting as a consultant. He very graciously allowed me to use his garage and tools for free and I spent most of the day there doing routine maintenance – changing the oil, tires, cleaning the air filter etc. The bike also got a much needed bath, but as you'll see it wouldn't stay clean very long!