Vladivostok .. or bust

Out towards Yekaterinburg. Trying to make peace with the bike. Already calculating how many times I might have to start the bitch over the rest of the trip. Giving up or turning round isn't an option. Death or glory...shit or bust. I'll keep it running as much as possible and just see what happens. It's nothing I can fix easily out here anyway. If it's the starter then it's a fuck of a job involving wiggling the engine within the frame to get access .. yes really .. I was quoted £1200 by a dealer ... and if it's something else then I'm going to need some specialist tools, some fairy dust and three wishes from a KTM genie. I tried bump starting it out of a petrol station but the slipper clutch wont let the rear wheel lock. I'm not going to able to bump it myself for sure.

I take to the fields for a moment to distract myself and look for a suitable ditch to burn the bitch in..


I decide she can live just a little bit longer, as long as she can get me to a nice truck stop for a random assortment of culinary delights... so she does .. proper food at last. A sea of beige .. just the way I like it ...

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I’m scooting along on my own and get to Yekaterinburg early. Arrive at the hotel… and … eh … you can almost smell the turd polish .. Some creepy bloke you wouldn’t let in the same county as your daughter, with swarms of flies under each armpit comes running out and tells me the parking out here in this quiet and secluded dead end road by the building site is perfectly safe as there is a security camera about 500m up the road that is turned on between 10-11pm almost every evening. He then directs me through some blast proof intruder doors, down some steps that have obviously been donated from a number of separate buildings into a corridor of rooms that will at some point appear feature on the Discovery Channel’s ‘Worlds worse serial killer’ episodes. The place stinks for a start, and the rooms look like people have screamed a lot in them, and probably lost a lot of blood… and teeth .. and other body parts used for going to the toilet .. It just looks and feels like the Grim Reaper is a regular here. He’s obviously purchased a fuck off tin of Turd Polish and used it on his Booking.com entry as this place bears little resemblance . Always be wary when a listing shows a lot of the local area and not much else… I know… I just know for an absolute fact that my buddies will not get within sniffing distance of the creepy fuckwit before turning round and buggering off up the road so I go and hunt for a replacement. I just need some fuel first. So I go to the nearest station … its a bloody automatic one .. it’s going to be a nightmare … but for some reason I park and just wait … something seems to be interfering with my ‘bovvered-ometer’…

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After about 10 minutes the interference clears and my ‘bovvered-ometer’ suddenly registers 100% and I have to leave before I put an Alpinestar sized hole in the screen .. Go and find more fuel and a hotel then get back to the hotel just as my mates arrive. “Novotel anyone?”

Yekaterinburg is a big place and has the highest building between Moscow and Vladivostok. 55 floors so up we go for a gander.

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We head out early towards Tyumen. The Ural motorcycle museum is at Irbit and we were going to try and take a look. Internet says ‘closed on Monday’ .. guess what today is .. bollocks .. we’ll go and take a look anyway and see what gives.

Not so busy today… getting less and less as we go further and further east..

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Dive into any little village .. people just getting on with it ..

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Get to Irbit but can’t find the museum.. probably because it’s closed .. Google maps apparently thinks it’s inside a stationery shop.. or possibly right next to a prison … so ask a taxi driver and follow him out of town to a little courtyard.. down a little alley .. through a little door .. and it’s closed. Bugger. I give the door a good rattle but it’s locked. I turn around to leave and the door suddenly opens and a little bearded bloke starts chatting away. I think he’s been asleep for the last 2 months and has been awakened by the KTM bouncing it’s booms in the alley. After a bit of a chat he invites us in. Result! I’m not really into old bikes but it’s quite an interesting little place none the less. This little bloke is the museum director Alexander Bulanov. He’s a bit of a hero! He’s a decorated Ural motorcycle champion and also has some Guinness world records including covering 25506 kilometers in 440 hours (with his mate Konstantin Matveev) without stopping the bike. He had a big sidecar accident and now walks with a limp and a stick. Nice bloke, gave us free rein and let us just wander about sitting on the bikes and taking pictures.

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Then a few hours of this ..

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Go out for dinner and happen upon a club so in we go.. Walk in and we’re confronted by a clutch of young women that have been carefully poured into very tight, very low cut dresses. They’ve been filled right up to the very brim … one false move and they’re going to spill something … something pink probably … best be careful then… I do like pink though ..

Looks like the club can cater for about 500 but I think they’ve had a few cancellations… like maybe 495 .. There is a live band playing and they’re really good. Playing to an empty dance floor for an hour can’t be much fun but they do a good job.

Get out the city towards Omsk and it’s really starting to thin out.. nothing wrong with that. Lots of miles between fuel… never ending fields of wheat sunbathing in 30 degrees… welcome to Siberia..

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The road follows the Trans Siberian railway, sometimes loosely and sometimes, like today, runs alongside for long periods. We crisscross it regularly and often just run alongside the trains as they lumber their way back and forth. We plan to be on that train in a few weeks, retracing all these miles back to Moscow.


Not so bad eh? Beautiful weather and miles and miles and miles of nothing but fields and trees. A song in my head, the KTM just purring towards the horizon. Friends… food … fun… The minute I leave on these trips someone goes round in my head and shuts all the doors to my life at home. Work … shut…. bills … shut … that leaking gutter … shut … now is all that matters.

More roadworks.. more pissed up Russians on their phones. These ones were out their car with a permanent marker defacing the bitch before I knew what was happening. I let them get on with it… fucking bike is getting on my tits … sometimes going a day without a problem, then squealing like a horse that’s been kicked in the knackers all day long. Bitch!

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Riders .. make your pillions dismount … obviously!

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Get to Omsk and a creepy hotel I’m convinced from the moment I walk in is haunted. My Aussie mate’s wife feels it too. She has a quiet word and convinces it to move on so I can get some sleep..

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Next morning, breakfast is bought to us by the colour green.. Truth be told I much prefer these ‘what the fuck is this?’ places to the cookie-cutter ‘where the fuck am I’ hotels.

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Next dot on the map is Novosibirsk where we’re going to hole up for a couple of days and fettle the bikes… or use mine for RPG target practice… It’s been OK last couple of days… not a squeak ..bastard!

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Siberia… flat…. flat and more flat .. the scale of the place is almost frightening though.

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But it’s another beautiful day, and it’s another great ride on the Trans Siberian highway …


In all the big cities we get to the traffic is obviously growing faster than the road systems. It’s a crawl if you’re lucky, and it’s gridlock if you’re not. The crawling starts miles of the city and gets tighter and tighter. It’s hot.. we’re hot .. the bikes are hot… tempers are hot.. we get to the big bridge over the river and there are 4 … yes count them … 4 separate accidents within 1km or so. One involves a motorbike that’s laying horizontal across the road. Others are just rear-enders. Novosibirsk traffic is a prize fucking bitch and by the time we get to the hotel in the centre my balls are glowing red and my legs are cooked ready to carve.. Nice view though, right overlooking the station and our friends the Trans Siberian trains. I’ll be back here soon enough ..

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Novosibirsk is a major city along this route and has a lot of the big dealers. We ride past Honda, Triumph, and Suzuki dealers on the way in … no KTM though .. and the Aussies have had tyres sent to the BMW dealer so we head off up to see they will allow a KTM to darken their workshop. Big and shiny showroom just like anywhere else on the planet, with the bikes tucked in a corner. He reckons they sell about 30 bikes a year. Not many, but as he says, in a month’s time it will be -30 degrees out here .. OK then.. Novosibirsk is a major city along this route and has a lot of the big dealers. We ride past Honda, Triumph, and Suzuki dealers on the way in … no KTM though .. and the Aussies have had tyres sent to the BMW dealer so we head off up to see they will allow a KTM to darken their workshop. Big and shiny showroom just like anywhere else on the planet, with the bikes tucked in a corner. He reckons they sell about 30 bikes a year. Not many, but as he says, in a month’s time it will be -30 degrees out here .. OK then..

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The BMW oil doesn’t specify the necessary MA2 tag so rather than take the risk, my Honda mate and I spend an hour in the metal melee working our way across town to the Honda/Triumph dealer. Really nice bloke, Alex, and speaks good English. He’s got room so we get the oil changed, drink coffee, and look at the view..

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I don’t think they do pipes LOUD enough for me …

I’m sitting drinking coffee … I hear a long loud squeal… has someone trapped a young stallion in the workshop? My heart sinks… then I hear the bike start. Fucky tits shit bugger and bollocky wank.. The bike has been squealing but starting up to now… this time it just span and didn’t start… KTM really should offer psychiatric care packages the way these fucking bikes mess with your head… I go and boil the bitch in 10 miles of hot, shit, slow and smelly traffic as punishment…

Back to the hotel. I press a button for a lift .. a light comes on … the door opens and a man in a hard hat steps out .. of the top of a lift ..

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I think the Russian state hackers have been practicing on these lifts. The fucking things have gone into meltdown. Press to go down.. it goes up … press to go down again … it down a bit .. then it goes back up .. press to go up … it goes down. We’re on the high floors so we can’t use the stairs all the time .. just trying to go up to your room to get something can mean a 10 minute up..down..down..up…down.. up.. BINGO .. to get to your floor. Take a 10 minute lie down to recover.. then back to the lift to fight your way down. Something that should take 5 minutes easily takes 20. I missed breakfast this morning so tonight I’m going to drag my mattress in and camp out in the lift to make sure I get fed.

We take a wander across the square to the station for a look. They’re really ornate places, just like the underground.

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I really enjoy being in Russia and I really like this place. Lots of really good memories and a feeling of being properly immersed. I could spend a few days here .. wandering about … riding the lifts ..

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Russia .. the only country where the green-cross-men are hung like horses…

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I threw the thigh chaff-ometer away … I’ve switched to visual …

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And … see my theory about aliens … they’re really integrating into society out here … this bloke even married one .. or maybe she did … it’s difficult to tell..

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Go to start….start …. START … START YOU FUCKING BITCH OR I AM GOING TO GET THE GREEN CROSS CODE MAN TO STICK HIS MASSIVE DICK RIGHT UP YOUR CHUFF ….. That does it…
The bike only starts on the 4th try. That’s a bit worrying… in the same way that finding a huge stinking oozing green pussy lump on your cock would be worrying … BITCH. I’m properly in the middle of nowhere now this could be an enormous pain in the backside .. in the same way that having the green-cross man … you get the picture..

Fuck it… let’s just go…

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Get out of the city and the main road is closed for a cycle race. The diversions aren’t obvious and a kind bloke toots and stops me when he sees I’m going in the wrong direction. Either that or he is directing me towards Austria as he can see I’m on a KTM and just assumes, quite rightly, that it’s in the middle of a breakdown…

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For all my bravado .. my ‘shit or bust, death or glory’ attitude… I can’t stop worrying about this starting problem. Riding out of Novosibirsk feels like we’re leaving the last chance saloon. The last really big city. The last place I might possibly get this diagnosed and/or fixed. I’m so lost in thought … that I don’t see the police car following me … overtaking on solid while lines … their absolute favorite reason for …. here we go .. lights on .. pull over … wallet to emergency. I’ll just put my sunglasses on the ground here so I forget to pick them up and they get driven over by the policeman as he leaves .. that would make this day a lot better.

Here we go. I know what I’ve done. He knows I know what I’ve done. It’s just a matter of time and money. He sits there repeating himself and drawing pictures. I sit there working out my starting bid. I open my wallet… offer him 1000 rubles. He just starts laughing. Wrong move Ivan.. so I slowly just put the note back in the wallet. Put the wallet in my jacket. Zip up my jacket. Zip up my coat. Put my hands in my lap, and wait. After a surprisingly short pause, he blinks first and tells me to put the note under the dash out the way of the camera as usual and I’m on my way…

Get to the next petrol station and the bike is fucking about again. I look at the road. Left out into the wilderness. Right .. 90 minutes back into Novosibirsk. I don’t know exactly what the problem is. There is a 0.00001% chance it’s the battery, and a 99.9999% chance it’s the starter/sprag clutch. I just need to do something. Just to get some confirmation from a mechanic. Right it is then, 90 minutes … 2 and a half hours back into Novosibirsk to the Honda dealers to have a word with Alex. I get there, fucked and hot after fighting the traffic across the city. Alex has a replacement battery, but he gets the mechanic out and I think he knows what I’m going to ask before I even press the button. ‘Starter’ he says. Fuck… I was really really really hoping it was the battery .. So that’s that. Decision made. I’m going to ride into the wilderness on a wing and a prayer. What will be will be. Next decision… BAM.. that’s looking like it would be a very stupid decision indeed ..
 
I remember a Scottish theme bar in Tyumen, a Russian interpretation of what a Scottish bar looks like, helped enormously by the waitresses in wee mini kilts :thumb

Good country in many ways, hard not to enjoy if you accept Russians as they are and their attitude as it is. They don't pretend to like folk, as you get in, eg the States. They are brief and near rude until there is a reason to be otherwise, a throwback to the Soviet days when you trust no one.

Great story, really enjoying it.
 
Great RR and fantastic photos as ever.
I see that you have maintained your tradition of having your helmet signed by selected volunteers.
If ROB / Magadan I believe three of us are go

Where are WE going next year?

Who knows mate:) I need some interested parties to get in touch!! ... hint hint... Tibet/Everest ... or ROB/Magadan maybe ...
 
Great RR and fantastic photos as ever.
I see that you have maintained your tradition of having your helmet signed by selected volunteers.
If ROB / Magadan I believe three of us are go

Sounds good to me:))) We looked at Magadan for this trip. It's not the easiest place to get the bikes back from but there are lots of options. The summer road is being tarmac'd as we speak. There is a big new junction at Never on the Trans Siberian with tarmac going north. The plan shows it going to Yakutsk and I don't know how far it's got so far. Magadan is 3000km from that junction though so I'm sure there is plenty of shit road to enjoy on the way. I've got to speak to a few people then we could maybe start talking about some plans:))))))))

And... I'll need a new helmet.. I cleaned it off once with white spirit .. maybe not the best thing to do with a crash helmet! So many beautiful women ... so little room on my helmet:):)
 
I’m hours behind the others so I get to Kemerovo as the sun is falling. It’s had another hard day shining bright across the Siberian landscape and it’s keen to get to bed. I’m leaving it as long as possible to fill up with fuel every time to keep the number of starts to a minimum. I stop.. I fuel … I pray .. I press.. This time it’s OK, but that’s the first time today it’s started properly.

Get to the hotel and it’s a lovely old soviet style one. Every landing has a desk for the woman in charge of the floor. Big, brutal and as subtle as a sledgehammer to the groin. Good. We go out to eat outside and watch the beautiful young Russian world go by.

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We’ve been going east for weeks… months… years it feels like .. we must be nearly there surely … look at the map .. jeeeeeeeeeus .. we’re only about half way! FUCK this place is BIG! Another lovely sunny day on the Trans Siberian anyone? OK then … if I must …

Maybe if I just tickle the little button really really gently … find exactly the right spot … just stroke it slowly with my index finger .. or maybe the tip of my tongue .. I’ve heard that can work … can’t remember where I heard it though … might not have been on a KTM forum … seems to work this time though and the bike starts first time. It’s fixed then, excellent. Some KTM fairies must have been here in the night. I wondered what that oil on the ground was from … no .. let’s not worry about that oil on the ground just now … lets just ride ..

Lovely scenery today, like Canada++, a tree spotter’s wet dream. Best not go too far into the trees though. There are bear warning signs on one side and some sort of big fuck-off wildcat signs on the other.

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You ride for miles and miles and miles of absolutely feck all then just come over a hill and into the next concrete oasis

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The traffic is the usual. We’re doing the usual. Filtering and going to the front of the lights. I ride in front like a tug boat for the QE2/1200GS behind me. Somewhere along the way he clips a wing mirror. He’s sat at the lights when he feels a tap on his shoulder and hears screaming in his ear. He turns around and there is an irate woman .. and a poodle .. berating him and poking him. She’s got out of her car to give him a piece of her mind. Just a little bit I hope… I don’t think she has a lot to spare .. Why she’s bought her poodle along is anyone’s guess. She is WAY more vicious that the dog. Lights on .. we’re gone .. leaving the traffic to weave it’s way around her and the confused mutt.

We’re in Krasyonarsk. Nice place with a huge square next to the river. We’re walking up the road to a restaurant underneath a big night club. Lots of lovelies wandering about, looking forward to a Saturday night out. Lots of nice cars parked up … make that lots minus 1 … We hear horrible scraping crumpling sound coming just from our left … the bloke reversing his heap-of-shit mobile looks up from his phone and realises he’s just driven it into a shiny new SUV .. You can see ‘did anyone see that’ flash across his face .. he waits a fraction of a second too long .. people are already taking pictures on their phones .. he’s screwed.. I hope that text was worth it mate ..

Lots of good music playing, good food and good company. I get a burger and it comes with a pair of black rubber gloves? Never seen that before! Didn’t fit me though.. these are not my very small hands by the way… I’m not Donald Trump …

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We’re here for a couple of nights. I get up and my stomach is in a knot .. I’ve got decisions to make… ‘STOP .. BAMmer time’

If I’m doing the BAM then I need to get my tyres changed over here today, then we can fork off at Tulun. I absolutely hate not doing what I set out to do. That’s what’s turning my guts upside down and inside out. Some of it anyway. My mind has been spinning round yes/no/yes/no/yes/no ever since the problem with the starter appeared. That and there are only 2 of us.. and one of us is 74 .. and I’m shit off-road .. and a bit scared maybe if I’m honest . That and the fact that riding out here has driven home just how bloody isolated it is. Add to that all the probable water crossings and the constant starts the bike will have to make .. and that I won’t be able to bump start it either.. it’s quickly going from yes/no to yes/NO. We all sit down and go though the arguments together. If the bike goes tits-up on the main road then I’ve got a good chance of getting it to a town and on to the Trans Siberian back to Moscow and the mother ship’s Russian nipple .. If I’m being pragmatic, there isn’t a decision to make, but I’ve ridden all the way out here with dreams of the BAM and my heart still wants to go. I have to decide… NOW. 3..2..1 fuck it… BAM it’s not. I’ll be back though…

So I spend the day coming to terms with my decision and untangling my guts.

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Riding the Trans Siberian isn’t exactly a chore anyway:)


The distances between the major cities are getting bigger and bigger now and time zone changes are coming thick and fast. We’re heading to Tulun today, a small town in the middle of the middle of nowhere..

The bloody bugs are a menace out here and they’re getting worse. One of the bastards gave me a proper big lump on my head yesterday so I caught one and took a macro shot .. now I can see why they’re all so evil .. they’ve evolved to carry AK-47s …

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Back to the 1970’s

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but who cares? The Russians pay pennies to get on a 1970s bus/tram that costs nothing to run, keeps them warm and dry, and takes them where they want to go. We pay some stupidly expensive price to get on some ECO Friendly hybrid vehicle that has to be replaced every 2 minutes due to not conforming to EU-whatever. We both get off the other end exactly the same … who are the biggest fools ..

I can hear the horizon calling … ‘chase me… chase me..’ Excuse me .. gotta go ..

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Get to Tulun and turn off the tarmac into town .. a really shit bumpy dusty road, ride into a random tangle of buildings and find the hotel on the short main street. The mossies are out in force and the fuckers start the minute we stop. A proper low rent hotel with shared bathrooms and rooms with purple and pink and whatever fell off the back of a lorry paint on the walls .. and a reception desk behind a random indoor window to stop you stealing the highly desirable wallpaper .. all good so far .. ‘wi-fi?’ 1MB/24h download speed .. excellent .. perfect.. just exactly the way I like it.

The second we stop we are mobbed by people celebrating a 50th birthday party. The adults are smashed to the max and the birthday ‘girl’ is rolling about barely conscious. Kids are climbing all over the bikes and it’s a struggle to keep them upright. The adults are dribbling and laughing and trying not to be sick when they burp… They’re all super friendly and just want to cuddle us. It’s a really beaten up town. Old buses going to and fro. People wandering up and down avoiding the huge lumps in the pavement. I wander down the road to try and find a supermarket. I eventually find a dark door and walk though.. fall through .. down a 2 ft step and into the arms of a girl sitting behind the till. The place smells of old meat and … something else .. unidentifiable .. but probably previously living and breathing .. who cares:) This is exactly why I like travelling. Wandering about among the locals in the dark. Chatting, pointing, smiling and laughing.

This isn’t a place that supports restaurants. We take a walk around looking for anything but it’s late and the town has gone to bed. We’re just coming back to the hotel and we see a light, follow it down and into a cafe just about to shut. Walk in and it’s a brand new enterprise run by someone very welcoming and keen to improve his English. Really nice bloke. Stays open and feeds us so we make an appointment for breakfast:)

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This is where we would have forked off towards the BAM… I’m coming to terms with that but it will be easier once we pass this point. It gives me an excuse to come back anyway. It’s unfinished business.

Next morning … the horizon is calling again … but it seems to be getting further and further away. This place is just ridiculously bloody massive. I’ve given up looking at the map, it never seems to change, we’re just in the middle of the biggest country on earth.

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“Has anyone seen a big lake? You can’t bloody miss it, it’s the biggest flippin lake on earth! It’s got to be round here somewhere..” Only in Siberia could you hide a 500 mile long lake. No hills to help you spot it either. Just ride ride ride… to Irkutsk .. and through to Listvyanka, a fledgling tourist town on the south end.

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Just outside Irkutsk we stop at a cafe/pole dancing club. “2 coffees and a striper please” “To early for all that, but please feel free to take all your clothes off..” . I make do with cake served by a chunky lady whose ‘chunks’ exactly match the dents in the shiny pole in the middle of the room. Fuck… that’s some serious Russian engineering

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Get out to the lake and a nice guesthouse with wolves on the walls and a fucking great black bear on the couch.. move over mate… there’s a good chap… . There are dead animals everywhere. Later that night we’re eating dinner and I catch a call in the air. Nobody else reacts.. maybe I’m hearing things .. then I hear it again… and so do the others .. The wolves are out and they’re not far away. They’ve got choir practice this evening it seems. Not something I’ve heard before, but a nice sound .. as long as you’re behind closed doors.

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Next dot is Ulan Ude, round the bottom of the lake and east. It’s the best road so far by far, all bendy and scenic and beautiful .. when it’s not just falling down with rain. It’s just twatting down and we can barely see where we’re going. Riding through Irkutsk is like riding through one of those abandoned towns they flooded to create a reservoir. The ‘puddles’ are big enough to appear on a map and you can often only tell how deep they are by how short the traffic light poles look.

Russian drivers love to make a splash and by the time we’re out the city I am soaked right through to the skin and I’m freezing. They’ve been chucking water right up in the air my collar has been acting as a funnel, pouring it all inside my arms and shoulders. I just about manage to make it to the first cafe an hour out of town before diving for cover. My old mate on the Honda is soaked through too and we just strip down in the cafe and I stick my tits under a hot air dryer to warm up. We snag some big bin bags from the kitchen and cut holes for arms and neck to isolate our wet gear from our skin. Rather than try to use my chattering teeth to try and order in stuttering Russian I just stand by the kitchen door and point at the things coming out for the other guests. Works a treat.

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It’s getting proper isolated out here now. Absolutely nothing but the tarmac for miles and miles .. and the roadworks.. This road is really high maintenance and today all their maintenance seems to be just here. Rain .. mud.. and old diesel vehicles doing about 2 gallons per mile .. on the road .. bloody scary TBH and my old winker stinker is working overtime.

Get to Ulan Ude in the evening and it’s flooded too. Get to the hotel, and it’s nice place.. all posh and shit. I’m desperate for a shower to warm up. Hang on.. what’s this.. I’ve not even turned the shower on yet .. there is water pouring through the light fitting.. well at least it’s dripping in the shower and not making a mess on the floor, that might be dangerous.. I might slip and hurt myself .. I’m much safer in the shower with all the water, and the electricity…

I really like the feeling of Ulan Ude. It feels like a real frontier town. A bit dodgy and not entirely safe. The Mongol rally is finishing just down the road and the place is full of knackered old shitmobiles… just like every other Russian city.. We got to the top of the hotel for dinner and a drink with a view

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Then back up the tower for a sunset dinner before we head out into the proper wilderness. Up to here it’s just been practice…

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This is where we would have forked off towards the BAM… I’m coming to terms with that but it will be easier once we pass this point. It gives me an excuse to come back anyway. It’s unfinished business.
If it was easy everyone would do it! What you are showing, warts and all, that it is both mentally and physically challenging. Oh, and it's fairly tough on the bikes as well. :pullface

I'm still up for a crack at it next year. You haven't put me off yet! Ha ha
 
simpley stunning

rr dont know how you get the time to do it all, commitment in that 1st vid them wagons over taking got a bit close to you.:bow
 
This is where we would have forked off towards the BAM… I’m coming to terms with that but it will be easier once we pass this point. It gives me an excuse to come back anyway. It’s unfinished business.
If it was easy everyone would do it! What you are showing, warts and all, that it is both mentally and physically challenging. Oh, and it's fairly tough on the bikes as well. :pullface

I'm still up for a crack at it next year. You haven't put me off yet! Ha ha

Alright mate. It's always a bitch when plans have to change. Fecking Ktm's though....
 
rr dont know how you get the time to do it all, commitment in that 1st vid them wagons over taking got a bit close to you.:bow

I used to write stuff every night on my old trips but now I just write from memory when I get back - so most of this is probably made up by my imagination:) The droning - I velcro the controller to my tankbag all day so all I have to do is jump off , unfold the drone and off it goes. Only takes a few minutes at a time. Next time I'll do a lot more 'incidental' stuff. Problem is there is major interference everywhere you go and the drone just goes awol sometimes. You wouldn't believe the number of bits of video I've got where it's just missed trucks!
 
Excellent ride report :thumb2

I’ve visited Russia and various stans when working away and just need to motivate myself enough to go on the bike for an extended tour. Keep it coming.
 
The target for today is Chita about 400 miles away. The sat navs plot a route looping to the south but my Aussie mate’s google maps is bouncing about trying to put it’s hand up .. “please sir caplease sir … I’ve got a much better idea sir … come this way … follow me… follow me” Unfortunately I wasn’t close enough to the screen to see that it had it’s tongue in its cheek… even Google likes a laugh sometimes ..

Get out of the city and it all looks good. A lovely road through some rolling hills. Not another fecker anywhere to be seen. Just complete isolation for miles and miles and miles. We come to a small village and a petrol station. The ground starts to shake and one of these all trucks pulls in. I love these old things. You see loads of them out here and I think they are the worlds first indestructible vehicle. Christ knows how old it is .. it’s a dinosaur for sure though. Belching and farting, chewing the ground and spitting it out. The bloke gets a big starting handle to it and off it goes again up the road. I want one of these. I want to drive it though the middle of London. This thing demands respect. Fuck your Maybachs and G wagons, these things have a lot more style.

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As we leave the village the tarmac disappears and turns to a good rough road. A tractor pulls up and ‘encourages’ us to turn around and go back but we ignore him. What the fuck does he know? He only lives here. Google knows best ..

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The road gets rougher and rougher as we go, heavily corrugated and loose. Speed is the answer… My Aussie mate can’t go as quick and has to take a lot more care with his priceless blonde cargo. It’s all going well. Lovely scenery, lovely sunny day, a change from the relentless straights ..

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We’re maybe 50 miles into the rough and it’s got to the point where I’m riding along just thinking of something else completely, just riding on auto-pilot. I’m in 5th doing about 60-70mph.. all good .. then for some unknown my consciousness decides to interrupt my thoughts … ‘excuse me… you know this is deep sand don’t you’. I’m on a big section of half graded road with lines of deep sand down the sides and the middle. I hate deep sand.

The second I actually think rather than just ride then my ‘off’ is ‘on’. Away goes the tail, dancing left and right, swinging it’s bootie and heading for the deepest section it can find. I’m just about getting it under control again when the weight comes down on the front wheel and it all goes straight through my skill threshold… time to leave.. I know it’s going down and the last place I want to be is underneath it so I just push the bike away with hands and feet and let it skid along the sand in front of me. Fucky tits!

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The bike skids to a halt really quickly in the sand and it’s fine.. apart from one of the panniers. I think I may have spilt the caviar in that one.. it’s bent the frame and pulled the inside of the pannier out of line. 15 stone of fucked off motorcyclist jumping on it straightens the pannier, and the frames are attended to with a big pair of Hyper-Pro tyre levers to get them back to something I can strap the pannier to.

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My Aussie mates arrive and tell me they’ve been tracking the accident for the last 200m through the lines in the sand! Off we all go again… for another 90 miles of shitter and shitter roads that take hours and hours and leave google laughing it’s tits off. Get to the main road and get a groove on.

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It’s getting late, we’ve crossed another time zone and it’s getting cold too. The perfect time for my bike to start fucking about again. The bitch has not been starting on the first press at all today and it’s getting worse. I’m doing everything I can to keep the number of starts to a minimum so I have a thought. I’ve ridden in Alaska when it’s cold and I’ve seen vehicles keeping their engines running at fuel stops. Siberia is a LOT colder than Canada and so they MUST do the same… so … I come into a petrol station, keep the engine running, open the fuel cap with the spare key and stick the pump in. I haven’t taken my helmet off yet but I can hear a barking and shouting coming from somewhere.. somewhere close … I take my helmet off and it’s getting louder and louder .. it’s coming from the kiosk… I think someone has trapped a wild animal, possibly 2, and put them in there… whatever it is .. it’s going properly MENTAL.. I know what the problem is… but I choose to ignore it… until the door flies open and a wild woman with eyes on stalks and spit flying off her forked tongue comes stamping over with her hands on her hips and makes it extra extra extra clear.. as if she hadn’t done already .. that I MUST turn my bike off. Cow… So I fill the bike and push it off the forecourt. Get my prayer mat out.. light some scented candles, get my tongue ready to try and get the bitch going … when this pulls up to the pumps ..

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Bloody thing is shaking and shivering like all the bolts were only torqued to about 2Nm. It’s ‘ticking’ over at about 3k and sounding like a loud metal riot. The bloke jumps out and sticks the pump in… hang on mate .. shouldn’t you switch that off first? Did the bear/bitch come out and berate him? Did she reach out and stamp the big red ‘Strop ON’ button? Did she shout and thrash about and get her tits in a tangle? Did she FUCK!!

It’s another late run into another dilapidated city and again we arrive after closing time. I wander up and down the streets looking for something quick to eat but there’s nothing … so I go to my room, dismantle the pannier and put some cable ties behind the mounts so I can just zip it on in the morning.

Up an out… another anonymous town ..

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then 10 minutes later .. nothing out here.. absolutely nothing… sky…road… air.. trees…all good with me..

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We’re at the stage in the journey now when we’re trying to pace our days to get to Vladivostok at a particular date. My Aussie mate’s are catching the ferry to Japan and need a few days there to clear the bike and prepare it. Out here there really is sweet FA except run down service stations and a few little towns. Nowhere booked tonight but we aim for Yerofey Pavlovich where there are some truck stops. It’s taken a shit load of time to get out here but days like this make it worth it for me. It’s not that there is anything particular to see .. it’s not beautiful … it’s not outstanding in any way .. it’s nothing … and that’s it’s attraction. It just feels like you could walk 100yards off the road and you would be the first man on earth to tread on that spot … like humanity has just passed through on a 30ft strip of tarmac and that’s it… I wonder if places like this will ever be populated.. no matter how overrun the rest of the world will ever become I suspect this place will always be just the same.

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I like the truck stops. I like all these people magnets. Pretty good too. Good honest cheap food and accommodation .. on tap ‘company’ if required .. red hot showers in a separate building – 200 Rubles for 20 minutes in shower big enough for ‘company’ … I got 100 off because I was only in there for 5 minutes .. best nights sleep on the trip so far…

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When you’re this far into a journey and you’re chatting, you tend to quickly get involved in a race to the bottom … Australians. Australian men seem to stop maturing at about 12.. so what do they chat about at work? The usual… how you wipe your arse… I think one bloke in an unguarded moment admitted that he wiped his arse from the top to the bottom, the back to the front if you like.. and that quickly turned into a questionnaire/spreadsheet for the rest of the office to fill in.. yes really .. As well as the usual ‘fold or bunch’ question, and the new ‘direction of travel’ question, there was also ‘number of wipes’ and various other intimate details involved. Unbelievable! This got me thinking… always on the lookout for an opportunity to make a few quid … I thought I’d introduce a ‘Shitmus’ scale and I could sell Shitmus paper. It would be like the litmus test. A scale of 1 (very light tan) through 5 (dark pine) to 10 (dark coffee – possibly with lumps) could work well I think. I reckon I’d go for somewhere around a 3 (light pine) before the pants came up. I’ve definitely sat in stalls where I’ve heard people going for a completely unattainable zero, scrubbing away, turning their arsehole to a red burning ring of fire, and I’ve met people who are ‘off the scale’ and for whom even a 10 would be a wipe too far. As for the quiz, it turns out the back to front bloke was still alone, and one person even used a ‘3 wipe max’ rule no matter what their Shitmus score… Anyway, something to think about for a few hours when the wheels just go round and round and round…

Get out the truck stop and out again into the proper wilderness. What an achingly beautiful ride. Cool and fresh and bright. Lovely curvy roads through the rolling hills and not another bastard in sight all day. Fuck… another place I’d be happy to just hit the big OFF switch and leave the world. Places like this just make the hairs on my arms stand up on end and bring tears to my eyes. Fuck I love this place.

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You know you’re properly out in the middle of nowhere when you come to Never where the summer road meets the Trans Siberian. I expected a big dusty junction with trucks crawling out of it but the tarmac monsters have found their way up here and they’re busy making their way north to Yakutsk… that’s a shame. Best get back here quick then.. .another excuse to come back .. Magadan is still over 3000km though .. just another indication of just how MASSIVE this place is.

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My Aussie mate wants to visit Blagoveshchenk which is a city just across the border with China. It’s not on our route directly but it would be foolish to just ride past it so we take a 90 mile diversion off the main road so we end up chasing the sunset through the rain and get there quite late. We get stopped by the police on the way in. I’ve got my helmet on and I can barely see the copper through the swarms of mozzies. They’re coming right up to my visor and smiling at me… showing me their teeth .. laughing … they know… they just know I’m going to have to take my helmet off to talk to the copper.. they know they’re just about to parrrrrrrrttttteeeeeeeeee….

Off comes the helmet and I’m deafened as the swarm descends and dives into my hair to play. Fuckers… Put the helmet back on and I can feel the party is in full swing… everyone is gorging themselves on my scalp and some have also got inside my VIP area .. that’s not going to end well…
We’ve nowhere booked so we wander about at the mercy of the sat nav, riding past a few ‘is that open/occupied/derelict’ places before choosing a random place that last got decorated in 1850. Turns out a lot better than expected though as these places often do.

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We take a quick trip to the riverside to stare at the Chinese…

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And get back on with it… east east and more east ..

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Vladivostok isn’t that far now… maybe less than 1000 miles. Maybe the bitch has decided that going home on a train is better than going to hell in a ball of flames in the middle of Siberia and she’s not given me any trouble at all today. It just fucks with my head.. beware of these orange bastards … and remember to read the small print before you buy one .. it says ‘do not mix Ktm ownership with any kind of anti-depressant drugs .. and if you are currently taking any kind of therapy then please seek the advice of a medical professional before purchase..’
We’re heading for Khabarovsk, the last big city before Vladivostok. Criss crossing the Trans Siberian railway all the time .. coming out the wilderness and fading back into concrete..

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Get to Khabarovsk and my dreams of making a ‘shitload’ out of my Shitmus paper all go to … you guessed .. shit.. I hadn’t considered this. A toilet that will wash, wipe, blow dry and I think this one even had a button for a ‘prostate test’ … I wasn’t brave enough to press that one, but I did get a nice perm

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We take a day off to just wander about in the rain. A nice town with a friendly atmosphere. Bloody steep hills with old trams struggling up and down. People trapped at the arse end of a massive country but just getting on with life..

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My old mate has managed to get to the grand old age of 74 without ever having a massage… that’s like still being a virgin … so we decide it’s time to pop his cherry/neck/back/knuckles and we ask the receptionist. We’re told there is one 10 minutes walk away in a big pink building just down the road so off we go. We get to the street … a street comprised soley of … yep .. big pink buildings.. fantastic. So we wander about for a while until we find a little door leading down a dark corridor to a travel agent… come sex shop… brochure .. dildo . brochure .. double dildo .. brochure … gimp suit … everything for your travel/pleasure needs all in one place. A really good idea I think. I’m going to go into my local Thompsons travel agent when I get home with a big box of anal intruders and nipple clamps… I think I may be able to find a few kicking about in my garage … and see if they’d put them on the shelves amongst all the SAGA brochures. Anyway… it takes us 30 minutes to get directions to three doors down where the massage place is..

In we go then. It’s a Chinese massage, these are always hard core, my favourites. My old mate is led away to a little stall and I get taken to another one at the other end of the room.. I’m a long way from him .. but I can still hear his screams. It sounds like he’s being slapped with a rolled up travel brochure then roughly ‘intruded’ … I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone in that shop… still, £10 later and we’re both happy. He can turn his neck more than 10 degrees for the first time in 20 years and he can do massive shits without anything touching the sides.. result…

We’re all together and having a laugh. We’re all happy in each others company. We all know what’s coming… Vladivostok .. the last chapter.. but nobody wants to turn the page.
 


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