One of the most difficult things about travelling, is parting company with new friends. Rick was off to the delta on the coast of Baikal, than from Ulan Ude into Mongolia. We said our farewells and sincerely hope to meet again. Rick really is a great guy with many interesting stories, and as he is even taller than me I wouldn't dare say any different!
The scenic road was actually quite good, so I could relax and cruise in the sunshine.
The Lonely Planet guided us to a less extortionate hotel than most in Ulan Ude, where a small bath doubled as our much needed laundry room! Passing lorries spew out so much smoke you can barely see them. This liberally coats us in black soot from the diesel fumes, so you can imagine the colour of the bath water!
The city is an interesting one, with a huge bust of Lenin dominating the town square. We tried a place named 'Happy Food' quite possibly the worst food on the trip so far. Cold chips and a stale roll, but this is normal in most places and we're getting used to it.
Next day, avoiding the thunderstorms that often surround us in the more mountainous regions, we climbed up to over 1000m. Not many secluded campsites to be found and it was getting late. I thought maybe we would descend back down the other side of the mountain and out of the low clouds, but we remained at this height for mile after mile hoping to find a motel. Only a cafe full of lorry drivers emerged from the darkness but nowhere to sleep. A good road surface in the dark was still dangerous, as you never know when it will turn into a bad one. We pressed on until Geoff found a spot almost out of sight by a road bridge.
I sheltered under the bridge as the rain started to fall. A small dry patch in between the concrete supports, away from the cow tracks and other unmentionables! Geoff slept in his Bivvi bag by the bikes. I was reasonably warm for a while, but the temperature soon dropped, so I curled up wearing my gloves and balaclava. I didn't sleep a wink and the passing lorries shaking the bridge didn't help, so that was a long night!
An early start meant the first three cafes were closed and the fourth had no eggs and our grasp of the Russian language hadn't gone much further than 'Yeht-so and khleb' (eggs and bread) but the fifth one did! Geoff wasn't in a good mood. I felt sorry for him having such a bad night. If I'd let him check out a possible campsite we saw before it got dark, instead of suggesting it maybe better down the other side of the mountain, we may have been sheltered in our tents. He wasn't enjoying himself and everything I tried wasn't helping.
We've tried to avoid hotels as much as possible but after last night we deserved one. Generally we try to find a 'Hotel Turist' as most cities have one, usually old badly renovated Soviet hotels but always fascinating to see. Chita was no exception, and like most Russian cities we got our bearings from the mandatory Lenin statue.
A simple shower felt so good and a soft bed was pure luxury! I sat eating a bag of mushroom soup flavour crisps, gladly watching a big thunderstorm from the shelter of a dry hotel, contemplating the Amur highway and a thousand miles of gravel 'road.' It can't be that bad can it? People ride across it all the time, including a guy called Richard Lindley in 2006 on a Triumph Tiger the same as ours. He crashed once or twice......
The scenic road was actually quite good, so I could relax and cruise in the sunshine.
The Lonely Planet guided us to a less extortionate hotel than most in Ulan Ude, where a small bath doubled as our much needed laundry room! Passing lorries spew out so much smoke you can barely see them. This liberally coats us in black soot from the diesel fumes, so you can imagine the colour of the bath water!
The city is an interesting one, with a huge bust of Lenin dominating the town square. We tried a place named 'Happy Food' quite possibly the worst food on the trip so far. Cold chips and a stale roll, but this is normal in most places and we're getting used to it.
Next day, avoiding the thunderstorms that often surround us in the more mountainous regions, we climbed up to over 1000m. Not many secluded campsites to be found and it was getting late. I thought maybe we would descend back down the other side of the mountain and out of the low clouds, but we remained at this height for mile after mile hoping to find a motel. Only a cafe full of lorry drivers emerged from the darkness but nowhere to sleep. A good road surface in the dark was still dangerous, as you never know when it will turn into a bad one. We pressed on until Geoff found a spot almost out of sight by a road bridge.
I sheltered under the bridge as the rain started to fall. A small dry patch in between the concrete supports, away from the cow tracks and other unmentionables! Geoff slept in his Bivvi bag by the bikes. I was reasonably warm for a while, but the temperature soon dropped, so I curled up wearing my gloves and balaclava. I didn't sleep a wink and the passing lorries shaking the bridge didn't help, so that was a long night!
An early start meant the first three cafes were closed and the fourth had no eggs and our grasp of the Russian language hadn't gone much further than 'Yeht-so and khleb' (eggs and bread) but the fifth one did! Geoff wasn't in a good mood. I felt sorry for him having such a bad night. If I'd let him check out a possible campsite we saw before it got dark, instead of suggesting it maybe better down the other side of the mountain, we may have been sheltered in our tents. He wasn't enjoying himself and everything I tried wasn't helping.
We've tried to avoid hotels as much as possible but after last night we deserved one. Generally we try to find a 'Hotel Turist' as most cities have one, usually old badly renovated Soviet hotels but always fascinating to see. Chita was no exception, and like most Russian cities we got our bearings from the mandatory Lenin statue.
A simple shower felt so good and a soft bed was pure luxury! I sat eating a bag of mushroom soup flavour crisps, gladly watching a big thunderstorm from the shelter of a dry hotel, contemplating the Amur highway and a thousand miles of gravel 'road.' It can't be that bad can it? People ride across it all the time, including a guy called Richard Lindley in 2006 on a Triumph Tiger the same as ours. He crashed once or twice......
1 comment:
You dont know how good it made me feel to read your blog after such a long absence! I was so worried about you, even though I dont know you! You are a brave person on a steep learning curve making an amazing journey. You keep going and know that you make a lot of people happy just by reading the events you have been through. Keep smiling. Spider
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