Olkhan Island:
On the ferry I had met a group of four Russians - three of whom were named Jenya! Jenya and Jenya were architects from Yektarinburg on a two week vacation to Olkhan and Jenya and Kirill were hitching from Moscow to Vladivostok on the Pacific coast and then down into Asia. They invited me to join them at their hotel and I spent three nights in their company.
Somehow we found ourselves agreeing to dig ditches at the hotel in return for money, vodka, and use of the banya.
Kirill hard at work:
The fruit of Jenya's and my labor:
After three nights on Olkhan it was time to continue the journey - I had decided that I would have to abandon my plans to ride across Mongolia and return to Krasnoyarsk where I knew a good mechanic who could take a look at the bike and repair the frame damage and check the engine which had been making noises and backfiring. It was too late in the season to risk crossing Mongolia on a damaged bike, another substantial delay would mean it would be impossible to complete the ride before winter set it.
I had hoped for a trouble free ride from the Olkhan ferry to Irkutsk, but it was not to be. First I ran out of gas about 10km from the ferry, without a fuel gauge it can be difficult to know how much fuel is in the tank and I had (mistakenly) thought I had enough to get to the nearest station. Fortunately I ran out about 500m from a road building crew camp, so I made my way over and asked for a few liters. They seemed to find my predicament hilarious, but generously gave me some fuel for free.
To add more excitement to the day I ran into more problems with the frame. The only road on Olkhan Island is in quite a bad state and the potholes and corrugations had taken a toll on the frame and the crack that had developed again on the Zhigalvo road gave out completely about halfway to Irkutsk. I managed to nurse it 25km to the town of Bayanday where an Armenian fruit seller helped me to find someone who was able to weld the frame back together for the second time.
With that done I continued on to Irkutsk where I managed to find a small, but very pleasant hostel in the center of the city. Hostels are nonexistent in Russia outside of St. Petersburg and Moscow so this was a treat. I had essentially limited my accomodation options in Russia to camping and couchsurfing, by not registering my visa. In Russia you're supposed to register with the immigration police within a week of entering the country and then each time you travel to a new city and this is usually done by your hotel – for a fee of course! In reality the police and border guards don't care about registration at all, but for some bizarre reason hotels won't accept you as a guest if you can't show them previous registrations. After parking the bike and I ventured out for dinner. Irkutsk is an attractive city with European style architecture in the center. Had a dinner of mediocre sushi that was redeemed when my server invited me join her friends at a bar to watch the Russia-Ireland football game that night.
Rode west towards Krasnoyarsk the following day as far as I could before stopping to camp. From Irkutsk to Krasnoyarsk is a distance of 1100km – it is impossible to truly understand the scale of Russia without traveling across it, the distances dwarf even those in the United States. Reached Krasnoyarsk the next day and met up with my couchsurfing hosts Ksenya and Sasha who would graciously host me for five nights.
From Krasnoyarsk I had to backtrack 500 kilometers west to the city of Kemerovo before I could make my way south towards the Altai. The road was relatively good and I was able to ride past Kemerovo before nightfall. The region south of Kemerovo is a center of large scale agriculture product so it proved a bit difficult to find a suitable camping place. In the dark I very nearly got the bike stuck in a field of asperagus before I finally managed to find a good spot to pitch the tent. Although it is basically possible to camp anywhere, I usually take some care when selecting my site. I try to avoid being visible from the main road and stay away from towns and villages. I've never had anyone bother me, and wouldn't really expect anyone to, but in many of the rural areas alcoholism is a serious problem and I prefer not to have any unexpected visitors while sleeping, regardless of how well meaning they might be.
The next day I was blessed with some excellent riding weather and beautiful scenery. The sky was cloudless and it was warm enough to ride without the heated jacket for the first time in weeks. The road, which I had mostly to myself, wound its way through hills and birch forests. The autumn colors were on full display and I almost felt myself transported back to New England. I continued on past Bisk and Gorno-Altaisk and entered the Altai Republic. The Altai borders Kazakhstan and Mongolia and contains Siberia's highest mountains. It is named after the Altai people who make up about 30% of the republic's population. I would be following the M52, known as the Chusky Trakt, from Gorno-Altaisk 400 kilometers to the Mongolian border town of Kosh-Agach. From Kosh-Agach I would backtrack part of the way before turning off the Trakt and following dirt roads that passed through villages inhabited almost exclusively by the Altai to a small border crossing with Kazakhstan.
I found an excellent camping site next to a stream and fell asleep to the sound of the rushing water.
I awoke the next morning before 7:00 to find the bike and tent covered in frost and my water bottle frozen. A few seconds outside the sleeping bag was enough to convince me it was probably still below freezing so I crawled back in for another two hours of sleep. By 10:00 when I started riding it had warmed up considerably. In any event the day was beautiful with a brilliantly clear sky. I rode the entire Chusky Trakt south to Kosh Agash where I picked up some supplies then turned around and rode about 100km north before finding a camping spot for the night. One of my best days riding ever, hundreds of kilometers of mountains, canyons, and rivers, before the landscape turned into an otherworldly steppe near Kosh Agash.
The next morning I continued around 100km north on the Trakt before turning off and following a good gravel road 100km west to the town of Ust Kan. From Ust Kan I then made my way north on several hundred kilometers of dirt and gravel roads to Petrovlovskae where a Russian insisted on paying for my dinner at a cafe. This route was recommended to me by a fellow rider as the shortest route between the Altai and the easternmost border crossing with Kazakhstan – it was also far more interesting than taking the main roads. The route passed through many small villages, the Altai people still live a traditional lifestyle and are mostly herders. Camped just outside the town next to a river, it was thankfully noticeably warmer at night now that I was at a lower elevation. Awoke early as I wanted to give myself plenty of time for the border crossing and was on the road by 8:00. The road continued on mostly gravel and bad pavement and in a very short moment of inattention I found the bike airborne and myself launched off the seat! Fortunately I remembered to hold on the bars and my feet stayed on the pegs so I was able to keep control of the bike. A good reminder that you can't take your eyes off the road for even a second!!
The rough roads had dislodged one of the wires between my heated jacket plug and the fuse box so I was forced to stop at a cafe to take off the luggage and seat and fix it. I was very quickly reminded of why I almost never stop to work on the bike in villages or cafes/fuel stations, instead preferring to do it in an isolated spot off the road. A car load of very drunk Russians came over and immediately started bombarding me with questions and inspecting the bike. After about fifteen minutes of this I was starting to lose my patience, it wasn't yet 9:00 and I wasn't in the mood to deal with a bunch of drunks. Fortunately they drove off after not too much longer... and of course these are the idiots you encounter while riding. Although Russia has very strict laws against drinking and driving that doesn't seem to deter people, and its not unusual to see drivers drinking vodka at roadside cafes during lunch or picking up a bottle for the road.
After fixing the wire I continued on gravel roads through an agricultural region until I reached the border. Kazakhstan and Russia have a customs union and the border crossing was painless, there were only a few cars ahead of me and the officials on both sides were very friendly and professional. The Kazakh border guard even serenaded me with American pop songs while stamping my passport!
From the Kazakh border it was a three day ride to Almaty, a modern and pleasant city, with attractive, broad tree lined avenues filled with speeding luxury SUVs. It also has excellent restaurants and cafes and I took advantage of the city's multiethic population to sample some Korean and Indian food. A welcome break from Russian cuisine.
I had neglected to register my Kazakh visa with the local authorities within the required five days and to register late or be caught without registration would subject me to a fine so I decided to leave Almaty after only two nights in the hope that the border guards would overlook the lack of registration or at least be more lenient.
No problems exiting Kazakhstan even without the registration (and a license plate which fell off somewhere in Russia!) and incredibly on the Kyrgyz side I didn't have to make a customs declaration or fill out any temporary import documents for the motorcycle. They simply stamped my passport and waved me on.
Within a few hours I found myself in Bishkek where I ended up spending four nights. There is a very little going on in the city, but it is a pleasant place to spend a few days and I stayed at an excellent guesthouse that attracted an interesting crowd of travelers, including several cyclists who had been on the road between 6 and 18 months!
No comments:
Post a Comment