Part 3

One beautiful day, sadly, I realized that I can’t stay any longer in Novorossiysk. Either I will be crushed by some truck or I'll stay here to live. I wasn’t ready to any of these layouts. So, full tank, full throttle, lock and load, onward to Ukraine.
There are only 150 km between Novorossiysk and “Caucasus”, port where is the ferry to Kerch.

Here I am – driving these 150 km and trying to understand: what exactly I’m trying to find there? Moreover, absolutely no one expected me, and what I was going to do there – I didn’t even imagine. Unable to find any reasonable argument, already arriving at the port (which is a dead end), I decided “To hell with Ukraine, I'm going back to Novorossiysk!”. Looking for gas, I asked where’s the nearest gas station. It’s 50 kilometers back. I’m already on the reserve - enough only for 30 km. While I was driving up to the port, I went around about 30 cars (Bikers in fact do not stand in queues). So I knew that returning to the queue and asking those people for gasoline wasn’t a bright idea. But it turned out there’s a gasoline on the other side - just 7 kilometers from the port.
Ticket costs 460 rubles (bike and myself), I had only 200. , Who cares? There is an ATM. I shove a card in it - “there is no connection with the bank”. Will it restore or not - unknown, but the day before there was no connection with the bank all day. I ask - where the nearest ATM – near the gas station at 50 miles behind. C'est La Vie.
No gas, no money. Phone’s battery is almost dead (before the start I equipped my bike with a lighter and bought a special phone’s charger. The lighter came off at Sochie’s serpentines and the charger was lost). There was nothing to do – I went to ask for money. Couple refusals in the cash desk, the same on the street. And then I stumbled on a beautiful girl with wonderful gray eyes and explained to her that I’m from Novosibirsk and I’m heading nowhere, but even this nowhere I just can’t reach because I’m out of cash. As a result, Tanya (it’s her name) lent me 300 rubles and said her phone number to put the debt there later. Tanya, you're a lifesaver!
And then, after an hour, here we are – me and Magna are sailing on a ferry to unfamiliar Ukraine that is drawing to a close , with 20 kilometers worth of fuel in the tank, and only 45 rubles (1,5$) in pockets.


It was admirably. I have long learned to separate my mind in such situations. One puzzled part is trying to find a way out of the problem, and the second part, sitting comfortably, watching and eagerly waiting for the scene: what will happen next. I am an observer of my own life.
In the end, I arrived in the Ukraine, and left the border zone without examination of baggage. I was surprised that I even was let out of Russia, because of my several unpaid fines. And I know people who were not passed for that reason, but I was lucky. All docks, of course, must be in order. As a result, the whole border crossing (excluding time spent in search of money) - a couple of hours. However, if you drive a car and get into the wrong time – you can spend more than a day standing in queue. The sail on the ferry takes only half of a hour.
After 7 miles I was refueled, and after another 10 draw out money from the card. Life is definitely was getting better. What am I going to do next? Ah, nothing to do? It’s cool. Problems should be solved gradually. Oh, no problem? 5 minutes, Turkish! It’s all still ahead.
In Kerch, I decided: "Forward!". Feodosiya was only 100 km away, I rode it easily. Roads of this region disappointed me - they are worse than Russian! When the sunset painted the sky, I realized that it’s time to think about where to spend a night. To go into the woods and sleep in a sleeping bag wasn’t what I really wanted, so I left it as a worst scenario. In the meantime, I just decided to stay in a cafe, and let it all come together by itself. It was very strange. 10 percents of my mind was intense, thinking about what I should to do with myself, and another 90 percents calmly drank green tea, watched and waited - what will happen next. Guess what? It actually all came together by itself!
While I was eating in a cafe in a village, one guy came to me (his name was Misha) and when I told him that I'm really from Novosibirsk, he invited me to visit his three stories high house on “that hill” where he lives with his family, where I’ll be able to drink a glass of wine, chat and sleep. He is not a biker, but he has a lot of two-wheel friends. We exchanged our phone numbers and he went to a shore. Problem solved! Moreover, 15 minutes later, I got on the phone the president of local MC (his name was Yura) and he offered me to stay in one of his hotels. I hadn’t washed for a long time and all of my clothes weren’t exactly clear, so I decided to accept his proposal (It was the first and the last time I stayed in a hotel for a night). Yura met me at the entrance of the city on his (with roaring music) Honda GoldWing and accompanied me to the hotel. I open the door in my room – I can't believe my eyes. And ALL this is for 50 grivnas (6 dollars)?
In that moment my life was seen as a fun quest-game, where you get task one by one, and all you need – just move your arm with computer mouse, take a look around and you’ll see a hint, that leads you to the next checkpoint. So far that's how things rolled for me. Comfortable room, shower with hot water, delicious (3 times cheaper than us), secured garage for a Magna. Nice.
The next morning, after I drank a cup of coffee with girls from neighbor room (They invited me! And rejecting a morning coffee is a crime!!), I moved to a central city beach. It is an amusing place. Directly across the beach area are railway tracks. The smell was appropriate - as a train station. And the people in swimsuits steps over the rails. Beautiful.
I decided that couldn't do much there, so I caught some hitch hikers. They advised me to go to the Cape of Ordzhonikidze. So I drove.
30 km of a really good asphalt and I’m there. It turns out that this cape ends with a closed area of the plant, which had produced torpedoes for Navy.

I quickly thought up of a legend that I come from Novosibirsk only for visiting this plant, where my grandpa had been working for 20 years and blah-blah-blah, and went to the side entrance. But the formidable security officer didn’t agree to let me pass on the territory. Even after the pretty story of Novosibirsk and a grandfather. Even in exchange for a cold brew and warm vodka. But! When I was about to leave - he winked at me and pointed at the toes - where i can leave the bike and sneak into the territory. So I did! Before the storm fence with barbed wire, I put a helmet and a bag under a bush, camouflaged the whole thing and climbed in.
But I walked there not for long. “Stop! Who’re you? Where’re you from?” I turned my head and saw another soldier with a gun (I was hoping that in the sunday there would not be anybody...) That’s all, folks - I thought. This is the end. That’s a real pinch. It is really frustrating when you’re poked by a gun ... I had to portray the confusion and complete submission and retell the story about Novosibirsk, about my grandfather, and the fence, I just had climbed all accidental, like it wasn’t even a fence, was that a fence? I didn't even notice! Kind of lame for a fence, barbed wire wasn't all that barbed either, you should visit Siberia if you want to see a REAL fence. Yep.
As a result - i hadn’t been shot. Hadn’t been taken to the police station too. I honestly apologize, then once again apologized and, to my relief, I went back and again climbed over the fence, with the tacit approval of the soldier. It was funny, when i landed on the other side. A couple went by, about 45. And here I am - jumping from the fence - with gloves and motorcycle armor. "And you're probably an American spy-diver" - they ask. "Yes" - I answer, come to the bushes that grow in a pair of feet, push the grass, pull the helmet with a bag, turn to them and blurt out - "Do NOT tell the soldiers." And under the gaze of two pairs of staring eyes I deployed and descended toward the motorcycle.


Deciding not to take such risks anymore, I started returning back on the track, but then caught a glimpse of a beautiful hill, which offers a good view of the sea. To climb there - not a problem. But I decided that I have to show Magna all beauty of the view. One minute of thought - and here we are with the bike trying to get on the grass on the hill. In principle, we would have to climb up. But the returning would be a suicide. The grass was slippery - just pinch the front brake to hard - and you are somersaulting with the bike down. So I had to leave Magna on the slope and climb up alone. The view was rather very nice. Half of a hour I was sitting on the ledge of rock and dangling my feet over a rather deep precipice.


I know that in such moments people often meditate about very deep and clever things, they begin to engage in soul-searching and thinking about the meaning of life. To be honest – my thoughts weren't exactly that deep. In my head I were getting questions like, “Why i didn’t know, that the new album of Sonic Syndicate was so gorgeous?” and the main one “Why? Why 42??”

But as I was going down, I had a pinch moment. Somehow i dragged and veered my bike, but after I managed to crash down. And it was rather unfortunate, because I fell in the direction of the slope. As the result - i was lying upside down, pressed by my bike. It was so heavy, that i almost heard the crunch of my leg. I wasn’t able not to lift it, not to get out under 250 kg hulk. Well at least my leg hasn’t got under the collector – that would be really sad... I had to yell a little. Some people heard me and helped to get out. The leg was almost intact, I just limped for about a week.
By the way, from that day on, whenever I see a mountain, my head goes like “Uh-huh, No way I'm going up there, nooo, sir!”. But hands still turns the wheel, despite brain's panic attacks.


After the Cape of Ordzhonikidze I drove in the Sudak’s direction, so I got on the road that runs along the southern coast of the Crimea.

For 2 days I got to the point, I remember back in the days when riding along the coast for a tour bus, I saw the inscription "Caution Landslide" and pressed my nose to the window glass, trying to see this very landslides, which still have not been killed or catched by anyone for the zoo. This place - Foros, the southernmost point of the Crimea. I have driven along the entire coast of the Black Sea from Abkhazia to the Crimea and I’ve never seen such a remarkable sea.

In the end the luck smiled at me - I found a place on the shore (20 miles west of Foros), where there were no people at all. I had to sweat a lot getting down to a very tricky paths, but It was worth it. Clean water, a lot of flora and fauna on the bottom, dolphins in the distance. The sun and fresh air. Real nice.

As for the roads - it’s very, VERY bad in Ukraine. Worse than ours! This is especially noticeable in the serpentine. You drive there - amazing views of nature surrounded the road, but its bed doesn’t allow to relax absolutely. The waves of asphalt sometimes just teared away the wheels of my bike from the road. laying the bike on turns was impossible! I found out those very different things, like tachometer, rear wheel and the heart - there's one thing in common between them. They jump up at the same time.
In the next turn I slipped again. Laying the bike down was useless. I level it, click two gears down and clamp both of brakes. That’s not enough and i fall in a ditch. I hadn’t fall myself and I hadn’t crash the bike - still i can’t understand - how? I succeeded to stop in a couple of meters from the concrete slabs which were bump stops. In the end, I decided that I'm going 30 miles per hour, but stay alive. But even that was rather difficult. It began to rain and the bike became uncontrollable. Too many pressure on the brakes handle - and here you are - trying to catch a 250kg piglet going sideways. A full bowl of adrenaline. And all this despite a fresh Dunlop. In short, those are bad roads. Baaaad.

Returning from Foros, I drove off a bit north and drove through Simferopol. This road is a little bit longer, but there is no serpentine! So if time is short - I advise to go there. The road returns to Feodosia, where is only 100 kilometers to the ferry.
Ukraine is a country of climatic contrasts (climatic zones there are changing every hundred kilometers. Land Kerch-Feodosia - is no different from the Omsk region, in Alushta it's warmer, but at Yalta already pure tropics).

When i had come to the station, i toured the line of 100 cars (For understanding - the ferry can contain about 25 cars and it leaves station every 3 hours) and buried in the disaffected border guard - he was very displeased by my impudence. I, by-turn, without passing positions, tried to explain to him that there’s no sense to stand in a queue of cars on the bike, because there’s always space for a motorcycle, even on the busiest ferry. Especially for little and light one, like mine. The argument that the guard grumbled in response, puzzled me a bit - “There’s no space. FOR YOU there’s no space on that ferry” I started to quarrel, but another guards told me I will butt in - and this shift wouldn't let me pass on the ferry and then I'll have to wait for the morning, when the shift change. In general, there is very corrupt system. There's always number of places for ordinary mortals, but also a places for those "who has given more." And all this were happening almost open in front of me, just before my eyes. I could get on the ferry too, if I gave some money. Fat chance! I moved the bike for a couple of meters away and lay down on it. I had to wait for 4 hours.

After a couple of hours, when all my body had gone numb, I went to buy a ticket. Lacked 20 hryvnia (How could it be?? I had counted all my money before and was sure that it will be enough! I should not have bought that snickers...). But! It does not matter - there is an ATM near! And it’s working! I insert the card, check the balance and ask him to give me 100 hryvna. "3 minutes, Turkish" - report automatic and ... becomes silent. The first minute I tried not to worry at all. Second, third, sixth.. - my temper started to fail me. I had 150 grivnas (20 dollars). All i had - cellular with 10 grivnas (2 calls). And everything else were on my card - firmly buried inside the perfidious machine! I tried to find out - who is responsible for the ATM, but it did not work! “Well, stands and stands. Well, doesn’t work? That’s ok, that happens. Oh, didn’t return the card… Yes, that’s a trouble. Big trouble.. Well, good luck to you.”
Ukraine didn't let me home. But in the end, after 10 minutes of waiting, the flow of curses and a couple of kicks, with crunch and rattle ATM spat up the card back with remark like “Couldn't do it, sonny”. I grab the card, kick the monster for the third time, and retire.
Another Help came from a guy - Sasha from Nizhniy Novgorod. We met at the customs, talking about motorcycles. After hearing my sad story about the Novosibirsk and ATM - he gave me some money, and after stood a treat by the dinner in the cafe. Well, I did not have any opportunities to refuse. The snickers was the only meal of the day. Alex came with his family. His wife and ankle biter had 90 days rest in the Crimea - so that night it was necessary to leave the country and cross the border again for further relax. Sasha wasn’t allowed to leave Russia on the ferry (because of some fines), so he rounded the Azov-sea, and crossed the Ukraine border in a minivan lying under an inflatable mattress. Hardcore tourist, that guy!

So, ferry eventually was delayed, again, someone did not have enough space ... The scandal, cries, threats. As a result, I sailed to Russia only in the second hour of the night.


At 3:00 am fully clothed I headed to Novorossiysk. Some terrible contrast. This morning I swam in the sea and sunbathed under the sun. And now, after some 15 hours and 300 miles, I’m faced by 10 degree, pulling on all the clothes i prepared for overcoming the Ural-Siberian region. The road went through some valleys, where there was a lot of water, plus, probably, most recently, a shower of rain. In short, it was cold, wet and nasty. And the fish stink. Russia, I missed.

Once again i stopped for pulling on another lay of clothing, I shut down the engine. Tried to start, Magna - zero reaction. Had no choice - in the middle of a swamp (I even hadn’t see anything around because of heavy fog), at 4 o'clock in the morning I turned on a flashlight, took off the stuff, took out a field set of tools and started looking for the problem. All this time something wandered in the bush around me, sighed and snorted. Well, at least the problem was trivial (disconnected "ground"), but in a nontrivial place (the result of tuning my electrical system). After a nervous half of an hour Magna encouraging growled again.
Approximately half of the fifth I was in the Novorossiysk. Bored in the familiar forest, dived in a sleeping bag and a minute later a subscriber was not in service for the outside world The next day in this city were the best for the too long time.

Part 4

Delayed in the morning, only at 12 o’clock I drove in the direction of Moscow. My good friends waited me there. Almost immediately after leaving Novorossiysk a good asphalt started. It goes up to the Rostov. Only some parts are repaired, but for us with Magna it wasn’t a problem at all. I Realized that trying to get to the Moscow in one day didn't make any sense ( there was a crazy idea to perform an Iron Butt, but, due to the fact that I drove out too late, I decided to postpone the operation). After sitting in the cafe, I browsed through the help-list, made a call, and here I was already expected by the local bikers. At the entrance I was greeted by Sergei Skin of the club's Fire-Motors ( FIRE MOTORS ). The guys just met a couple on Transalpe from Yekaterinburg, they were returning from the Crimea too. Together we came to the country cottage of a wonderful pair - the Belka and the Kaktus. Food, tea, coffee, evening talks, and then sleeeeep. Thank you guys!


The next morning I was put on the road to Moscow. I had planned to be in the capital in the evening. Sadly, I left the headphones at the guys somewhere. It was rather sad — not only it costs more than the player itself, but I've spent a lot of time, updating the playlist on it.
Rostov to Moscow is a beautiful road. I was pleased with two and sometimes three lanes with great asphalt, where I put down the pointer of speedometer (which is about 200 kmph. Not bad for a 23 year old chopper!), and a little upset by the toll stations in the Lipetsk region - they didn’t let me go without money. Of course, sometimes there was traffic jams, stretched for 10-15 miles. It was cold, and I warmed myself near the staying trucks.
After Lipetsk weather began to deteriorate completely. First, it was only drizzling rain, and then increased to a downpour.
It might seem a bit strange, but I like to ride in the rain. The motorcycle, engine, gearbox - all of it works differently. Asphalt, the nature around, the trudging trucks - all perceived from another angle. Mile by mile, you find yourself in some sort of meditative prostration. The pointer of speedometer stucked at 130, the oncoming cars toiling along so slowly that you have enough time to take a look at the drivers and hear the sound of valves in the engines, to sense the smell of cigarettes they smoke or perfume of girls that slip beside. I was doped by it.
“Flying toward the heart of the night, tearing it’s velvety wings by the roar of the powerful engine, dipping in it deeper and deeper and feeling how it surrounds you all, stronger by a minute. The rain drops slowly running down on the visor, and the scraps of scattered by the powerful engine miles disappear in the mirrors. Illumination of panel board, as the only reminder that you're still alive. And there’re still a hundreds of helpless kilometres of unknown road just in front of you, which haven’t surrendered to you yet. But you know — they will. There are no wrong roads in this world . Only one road of all stands out - the road to home. But how one will react to it - it is his own business.”
In the end, from Lipetsk to Moscow, I drove under the downpour. And I got to it rather interesting. 30 kilometers from the Lipetsk, I caught up with a very low and very gray cloud - it was like you can just lift up your hand and grab it.

And it was evident that in the left and right about a kilometer away the rain falls like a wall. Above me - not a drop. I could not miss the chance and not to make a picture of a posing beauty. A couple of photos, and now my face gusted by a wind with raindrops. Understanding the hint, I quickly take off the camera down into the bag, turn on the engine, The first, second, third transmission, glance in the mirror. Parts of rain united behind me and hit the ground at the very spot where I was a few seconds ago. Thanks cloud, you let me through.


But after 50 kilometres, I got to the ceaseless rain. It stopped only near Ufa, 2 days later.

It was about 400 kilometres to Moscow. Average speed fell in the evening… And the bike had got such a test the first time. It happens sometimes, when you do not want to even remember about the stretch. That is exactly how I felt. Very hard physically. In the end just to stop the bike and to detach yourself from the saddle was a real achievement by itself. I was wet entirely. Magna suffered too. About a hundred kilometers from Moscow, I lost the ignition and the bike just stalled in the moving . At the same time the emergency lights turned on (That was really strange because my bike hasn’t got the emergency light at all! ). Stuggered, I evaded the Moscow's furious cars and drove to the roadside and took off the helmet. It turned out that the alarm broke down. It interrupted the ignition like "Save me, thiefs! Steal!". In 10 minutes I fixed it and drove on. History repeated itself exactly after 50 kilometres.


I stopped on the last gas station before Moscow and somehow revived my hands, i tried to call my friend - Zhech. Phone was flooded by water (in a special waterproof pocket), so it refused to work properly. Another 10 minutes of shamanic dances together with the flow of curses - and now I get the pointer where and how to ride.
After 30 kilometers I get on the Moscow ring road. The fact that I was in Moscow, explained itself to me very quickly. Almost immediately some freak in a jeep cuts me in a road. Before, I would not stand such disrespect, and this guy would have stayed without a rear view mirror. But that time I couldn’t even push the beeps button. Only reduced the speed. After another 5 minutes at the speed of 100 km per hour the door of car, driving a few metres from me, opened. I saw a half of a body, that bended to the asphalt on all that speed and started, excuse me, to puke.
I reduced the speed more and tried to keep the maximum distance from any car. After the exit from the ring road, I realize that something is wrong. Reducing the engine speed I understood that only half of the engine works. Magna remembered the chopper’s roots, and decided to become a true V-Twin. Coils or wires were flooded by water. Even the sound had changed - each engine stroke - like a nail driven into an ear. At high rpm the pistons came to life, but somehow lazy. In the end, I drove to the meeting place, and leaned on a motorcycle. All I could do - just wait. Hadn’t any strength at all. The final stage was 1,100 kilometers, more than half, I drove in the powerful rain. The temperature was about 10-15 degrees. It’s not a pleasant combination on the road.
After i was found and saved by Zhech. (That time, we knew each other only from the website of Russian Magna owners). After 15 minutes Magna stood in the garage, things were spread on dryer and i was warming myself in a bath. Gorrrrgeous! At such moments, you realize that all this miles wasn’t in vain.
After - a very late dinner. Talks, gift Crimean brandy. Despite the fatigue, I fell asleep only in 4 am... Zhech woke up after 2 hours to go to the job (iron man!) and I stayed at home. In the midday I realized that all my clothes is still wet, so I'm here at least for tomorrow. In the middle of the day I got bored and choose the driest clothes, pulled it and went for a walk around Moscow. I went to the first bus station and got in the first bus i saw. Then on its final station i sat on the subway and went to ride on the stations. A couple of hours after i called to Roma ( he had just finished his work) and an hour later we rode on his truck. The cultural program, consisted of a great dinner, walking on a rainy Moscow’s night and visiting the observation square was completed.


For some reasons, instead of one night, I was in Moscow for three days. Well, I just could not leave this wonderful people, that met me so nice - Zhenya and Lerka.


Walks in a Moscow on motorcycles, the most delicious home pizza in my life, movies, lying on sleeping bags on the floor with a and shrimp, great music and evening talks. And the endless rain... Great. Thank you, Friends!


Actually, Moscow is a very amusing city. But how does people live there is a mystery. Ring road is always jammed, traffic jam is ridiculous (even on the bike it is heavy), indifferent people (I first spotted it when I tried to ask for directions). Everybody is very hasty and closed. Girls with headphones and sunglasses at a bus stop looked like they will bite if you address to them. Beer selling ladies (100 rubles for a liter), after discovering that I'm from Siberia, suggested me to go back there. But the funniest part – all Moscow citizens while talking about other Moscow citizens address to them as THEM. Not US. THEM. It's THEM who stops at the traffic jam, it's THEM who dies at their jobs, it's THEM who eat at Macdonalds. I don't know if I'd want to live in a place like that, but I'd gladly explore closely...

At 9 am at some date I drove out of Moscow.


Gloomy sky hardly stopped the rain. I very much wanted to drive across Kostroma, Yaroslavl, Tumen (north path goes back to Ishim), but that way was almost 1000 km longer, and the time was not on my side. So I decided to go through Novgorod, Kazan and Ufa.
Leaving the ring road, I met Grisha, guy with a 400 CB. He drove along, he was coming back from work and decided to ride along for 30 km. The rain grew stronger.
Lots of cars, bad sight, slippery asphalt. Lucky for me, I spotted the action. Someone was crossing the road. Three cars ahead of me there was a jeep which hit the brakes. The body had done everything by itself. 2 transmissions down, both brakes, arms heading the bike between the car and the road blocker. Grisha had not reacted in time. The car ahead of him hit the brakes. Grisha tries to dodge to the right and hit the car from the back, CRASH. Grisha flies, the bike slides through the road. I stop the bike, run up to him, he gets up. The speed was low, but still – watching your biker-friend fly from the bike is one hell of a site. He got lucky. Limping, but alive. The car driver was ok, he called the ambulance and the police. Right at that time somebody watched us for too long and hits a pedestrian on the opposite lane. Quite a situation. After half an hour the police had arrived. Grisha of course was one to blame, so they drove him away, while I stayed to guard the bike and the stuff.


The wait lasted for 3 hours. Grisha then appeared and another hour of waiting for his friend on a truck to transport the bike.
All in all, at about 1-2 pm I finally leave Moscow. The plan to reach Ufa in one day is ruined. Well, I'll just see how it goes. Full tank, full gas and once again miles are passing by.
And, once again, rain, rain, rain...


At some gas station I browsed the help-list. One call and I'm expected in Kazan. The rest is trivial – to get there. Safe. And that was not easy. The road to Kazan was very devious. The pieces with great asphalt suddenly turned into roads, with no asphalt at all, a gravel road. The lines were hardly visible. It was impossible to see the road properly. It got really ugly in the evening. Twice I almost crashed, after I'd stop and sit near the bike. For hundreds of miles there were no acquaintances. The worst road, gloomy forest and, of course, rain. It seemed like forever.
Recent crashes didn't help as well. Finally I got it together, sat myself on the bike and drove on. It's amazing how the sound of the working engine affects on a man! Miles are passing by and that means that the goal is closer. That's the way drove: tensely and trying not to crash.
I arrive Kazan at midnigh. It's funny. Despite more than a million population, the city is completely deserted at night. Even downtown! No cars, no people. The roads are awful, by the way. In downtown you could easily spot a pit which could place the front wheel with room to spare.
In some kind of complete indifference I saw a traffic police car, near the traffic lights on the left lane. I drove to it through the double solid line. I didn't care at all by that time. If they'd revoked my license, I'd be glad. Anyway, I was ready for anything. But not for the thing I saw after! I caught up with the police car... and the policeman waved to me when he saw me. Smiling! I nearly crashed my bike.
It turned out that to get to Ruslan (he was the one who supposed to meet me), I had to cross entire town using quite an untrivial trajectory. I searched for somebody who could tell some directions. It seems I looked very tired, because the couple I met not only guided me through entire city, but also treated me with a coffee and some fries. I was to exhausted to refuse. Then almost instantly Ruslan'd found me and we went to his home. Shower, dinner, kitchen-talk. At momens like this you realize that you are alive. Seeing how basically a stranger treats as an old friend, feeds me, provides me with a place to sleep and then sees me off – that's really encouraging! Thanks, Ruslan and thanks to everyone who can easily change plans for those in need.
The next day. Back on the Road.


First I saw the sun near Ufa. I always had drove right ib the heart of the rain, yet I saw clear sky in the rear view mirrors.


It seemed like the rain was mocking me. Or maybe he looked for a companion. I started to get used to it.


I arrived in Zlatoust to Scharipich slightly conscious. Rain, heavy fog (no emergency lights, had to turn on turn signals and drive at 30 kmh), enormous amont of trucks. One wrong move and you're flying from a highway. Sad, but at least you can lay down... it's impossible to describe. You have to feel it! You have to feel your jaw clenching, your teeth aching from tension, the water streaming down your back in places usually warm and comfy. The feeling of water shooting from tires of trucks, while you try ti catch a road and the bike. Hard stuff.
Amazingly, I got to Sharipich where I slept till noon. Ahead of me there was a 1100 km ride to Omsk. The next day, I left Zlatoust on a sunny day, funny.


BUT... after 20 km the rain struck again so hard, that cars stopped and drove off the road. I pushed on.
I was saved by a raincoat, that Sharipich gave to me and winter boots that Roma gave to me in Moscow. After Chelyabinsk I noticed that the sound of the engine has changed. I stopped on the roadside and heard a roaring from the left side of the engine. Well, a clamp became week or some hole burned down – I thought. I dismounted the bike and started to examine the muffler. And slooowly I realized – there are to little mufflers - only three instead of four!


Astonished, I drove back. Good thing I found the loose part and tied to my backpack.


Then again kilometers, rain, pits. Turns out Russia in the rain on the road smells like rotten fish and algae.


After Kurgan, I had to lose some retards trying to play tag. Lucky for me, their garbage-car couldn't do more than 160. But Magna with blown off buffer couldn't do more than 180.
Before Ishim, I realized, that I will not reach Omsk at that pace. I decided to go, while I can and then sleep in some forest. In Ishim I drank a bowl of energy drink, and 300 km eligntened by a full moon passed quickly.


Because I didn't expect to reach Omsk, I had no place to sleep. I could rush to Novosibirsk and finish IB, but I decided to sleep for a few hours. And do some repair tasks in the morning.
At first, I doze off on the bike near Stepa's workshop. But the wind was chilly. I had to relocate inside a flashy building and wait for a sunset to warm me.


Next morning, Stepa had been released from a hospital with a new metal rod in a clavicle, so I decided to go to Novosibirsk.
Arriving almost at Novosibirsk, electronics started to fail. I had no money, the card couldn't connect to the bank, I had ripped the shoe covers and lost a cloth for a visor (fifth one for the last 1000 km!). From Abkhazia I had been driving with a torn 100 rubles. Good thing I didn't throw it away. I found it, duck-taped it, collected the change from my boots, pockets and bags and refueled.
Too tired.. The last gas-station. Drive under the compulsory sign, turn through the double solid lane. Two policeman, trying to stop me. Too tired. Fell the devastation. Turn off the light, full throttle.
Around 10 pm I was in Novosibirsk. The end.

Conclusion:
34 days, 13.000 km, 3 countries and 1 sea. A great experience, lots of new friends and a stupefying feeling of freedom. It's very addictive. When the usual life goes away, when you're free from a mobile and a coffee-maker. When you don't know where you will sleep at night. When you wake up because of the cold and wait for the sunrise to warm you. When you have nothing to do and you just chat with a security guard of the wine field for hour and a hald, sitting on the steps of some village. When you entrust yourself to the world and eagerly watching – what lies ahead. When you can’t wait to live this day and you know that it will be a burning trace in your memory forever.
That's when you're alive.

«The core of mans' spirit comes from new experiences» (с)

Paul

Enjoyed your ride report and pictures.

Rode from Vladivostok to UK (via Ukraine) last year with my pal Mark and had a really good time in Russia.

Martin

Welcome indeed Paul, that's a great story, and terrific pictures too!

__________________
Grant Johnson
Seek, and ye shall find.
------------------------
Inspiring, Informing and Connecting travellers since 1997!
www.HorizonsUnlimited.com

Fantastic read Paul, great pics, great adventure:mchappy

Thanks!

This year i made a trip through Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and some other 'stans" to Pamir (Tajikistan).
But it will take a lot of time - till i translate it.

Good stuff Paul. Great pictures too.

Hi Paul great story and pic`s you did great, i am in Holland at least twice a year (normally in the Twente region or Utrecht) and Russia normally once or twice i could pm you next time and maybe meet up for

zebb

www.motoloco.eu