In Russia you soon learn to take the rough with the smooth-especially the roads!

Despite the ahem, motorways, we still made good time, trying our best to avoid the busy traffic in the towns, preferring the open roads. Not may bikers heading our way, but when we emerged from a typical roadside cafe, fully topped up with Borscht, there were five bikers from Poland outside admiring our unusual choice of bike. Their names are in my notebook at the hotel, so I'll update when I get another chance. They were on a six week trip to Mongolia and their bikes were just as overloaded as ours, one guy even riding a Honda NTV road bike. Brave or nutter often follows the word 'biker'.

We always stop when we see a cyclist/nutter in case they need water etc. Brian was from California via London, Europe, Russia to Hong Kong. He was glad to have two English people to talk to for a change. These roads are not the easiest by any means but a bicycle really puts us to shame! Brian was hoping when he returned home 'That Arsehole Bush' would be gone. I was proud to meet a guy who was on first name terms with the president.

The Polish guys soon caught up with us, forcing our slightly pedestrian pace well above our 'economy mode' but I really enjoy riding in a group. They stopped at a huge sign which I guessed said 'Asia' and wanted to film us entering Asia with them, but not until one guy who rode a Yamaha XT600 with no battery, had a Mohican haircut to match his friend who had one the previous day under the influence of Vodka! They invited us to camp with them, and ride together as far as Novosibirsk where they would then head South into Mongolia.
That night around a large fire, two bottles of Vodka and the Raki from Albania was consumed by all. I made a big mistake of not drinking any Pepsi with it, instantly rendering me less than capable of just about anything! I fell into my tent, bending a pole. I must clarify this was an aluminium tent pole and not one of our new friends! Thus followed an unsavoury mess outside the tent during an uncomfortable night.

The Russian police have a zero tolerance alcohol limit, so a very late start and a litre of water, before a short ride to a cafe and five eggs each. We soon learn to eat anything that's available, and was a welcome break to the usual Borscht as until now, hadn't learnt the word for eggs.
One of the best things we learnt from the guys was the word 'Dopelner' allowing us to fill the bikes with fuel instead of guessing how many litres we can fit in. In Russia you pay first then fill.
Although riding long, fast days, often in temperatures well above 30 degrees, it was relaxing knowing they would navigate all day and find a suitable campsite.
After three fantastic nights we reached Novosibirsk well ahead of schedule. It's always great meeting new friends, and bikers often are the best friends to have, so having to part company is something you have to accept when you travel. Who knows who you will meet the following day?
The guys wanted us to ride to the border with them, but it was an extra two days ride for us and not in our direction. It's a shame we couldn't get a multiple entry visa or we would've gone with them.
Novosibirsk was very busy and another large thunderstorm that often finds us in the evenings, forced us to shelter in a bad motel without electricity due to the storm.
Russian beds are a challenge for me as most are only six feet long, and they seem to love huge square pillows!
This is where we have been told, that the 'roads' get worse the further East you go. But as the Russians love to say 'Don't worry, everything is ok.'
It's all good fun....

Anyone who says it's a small world, hasn't ridden a bike across Russia!

We spent most of the day in Trabzon just waiting around and being led from one place to another getting forms filled and stamped. Eventually squeezing the bikes onto the Princess Victoria ferry, in between several tonnes on tomatoes! The 12 hour crossing was made interesting by the few passengers. Some Iranians, very excitable and friendly, never left us alone. Especially the women who love tall men! Giya from Georgia, a chess and draughts champion for the last 8 years in a row, spoke 22 languages, had written 150 books, mainly about religious history, was his local town's 'Mr. Intellect' and was a karate expert. I didn't argue, feeling insignificant next to him! He gave us $100 for the Hospices! An amazing guy.
After 7 hours on customs, (they couldn't read the English translation of the forms and we couldn't fill in the Russian one) we finally entered Russia. Sochi is an amazing place. We found the cheapest hotel to get our visas registered. The Hotel 'Moscow' an old communist hotel that gave you a feeling of being watched over your shoulder! Luckily for us, the Iranians were also there to keep us company at every opportunity they got....

The route to Rostov was a nightmare. Stopped by the police on two consecutive days, with any excuse they could think of for a bribe. This made us want to get the train and get out of Russia a soon as possible. Once we reached Volgograd, the people were very friendly and helpful, telling us the police would be no problem from now on, we just happened to pick the route all the tourists take to Sochi. Once settled into the hotel 'Tourist' an equally bad but cheap communist style similar to the hotel 'Moscow' we could start the search for tyres.
An English teacher who gave tours of the war memorials and 'Mother Russia' statue had shown us on our cheap tourist map where we could find a motorcycle shop. A tent on a bowling alley car park was closed but had a handful of Japanese bikes inside. We left a note explaining our tyre problem while a nearby cafe was overrun by security guards after an old man had a slight disagreement with the owner. We decided it would be prudent to stay out of trouble....

Next day at the bike tent a young man who spoke no English made a few phone calls. Minutes later a silver Landrover with blacked out windows screeched to a halt, a stocky man with a bad back emerged, introduced himself as Roman, and whisked us off to his office. A quick and fruitless search on the internet, explaining that the front tyre was unavailable in Volgograd. Another young man arrived, Slava, who said after dinner we will look for tyres. Off to a local strip bar, which served as a restaurant during the day!
The pace quickened through the traffic to a tyre shop where we could get cheap Taiwanese enduro tyes within 3 days. No problem. But not good enough for the Russians who wanted us to have the best possible. Back to the office to arrange collection of two Metzeler rear tyres and two Pirelli fronts, buy Roman's family in Moscow which would arrive in Volgograd in two days. Then off to a traditional Russian restaurant 'Tralli Walli' for a huge meal, vodka and entertainment by cossack singers, then a lift back to the hotel with a promise of a tour of the city and a ride on Slava's speedboat along the Volga tomorrow. I can't remember getting that kind of service last time I bought tyres.....I guess you can get better than a Kwik fit fitter!!
I was sad to leave Volgograd and our new friends, but once the tyres were fitted in Roman's new workshop, we had the urge to get some mileage done.