Tarmac, tarmac, beautiful tarmac!! And a shower....

The last 420km to Kabarovsk was a mixture of tarmac and gravel We never knew if it would last, but as we rode across a long bridge over the huge river into Khabarovsk, I knew the tarmac would stay. We made it!
The Hotel Turist wouldn't let us stay for two nights. If we stayed for three we would have to register. One night is fine but there is no rule for two nights so that is a problem.
One night it is then...

After a morning spent taking turns in an internet cafe, we decided to head towards Vladivostok. Two bikers shouted 'respect' and told us to look for the Iron Tigers in Vladivostok. A guy pulled up alongside me and shouted 'All the way from London? You Superman!' Well, I didn't like to argue...
The obligatory storm followed us, finally catching up when we got held up by a guy and his girlfriend, obviously enjoying some medicinal vodka. A few more people arrived, photos were taken but we needed to get going before we got soaked. Not many places to camp, so a track around a field had to do. We shared a spot with some spiders the size of golf balls, and settled down to watch a beautiful sunset over Northern China, about 20km away.

I'll never moan about the M25 again!

Geoff was totally unaware of last nights frivolities with the bear. I needed some sleep almost as much as I needed breakfast. A few miles further along, our bad Russian caused the usual amusement for the cafe staff. We almost got what we ordered but they gave us a 'Russian Breakfast' sausage egg, and some fresh sweet pancakes at no extra charge. Very nice! As we were leaving a stranger approached and insisted we accept a gift of two pasta dinners and a tin of minced beef. All he wanted in return was a photo of the bikes. Everyday the Russian people amaze me with their open hearts. If only their roads were as nice!
Charlie from Australia stopped for a chat. All the bikers we meet seem to be going in the opposite direction....
He is on his way to London from Japan and told us the road is pretty bad from here on, maybe a full day of this crap, but gets worse for 100km or so, very bad unavoidable potholes, then sand. Ok, that Will be fun....

A large open area of gravel alongside a huge sign of the Amur Highway seemed a good place to camp but still no luck. A small chapel about 30 square feet was guarded by a stray dog. I had nothing for him but he let me inside anyway. I got down on my knees and thanked the Lord for getting us this far without crashing, or the bikes breaking. I prayed we would make it safely to the end of this highway and onto Vladivostok.

We pushed on, feeling very tired. This road really gives the bikes and your body a beating. A small side turning offered just enough cover not to be seen from the road. Perfect. As I fetched firewood I heard a car stop, then drive off. I saw a man in army camouflage picking through rubbish with his stick. We approached him, hand outstretched in friendship. He dropped his backpack and walked towards us. He said his ear is bad without a cigarette. Geoff obliged and once he saw we were not a threat, introduced himself as Alexander. Apparently there are bandits on this road...
He was born a Russian but since has been given a Khazakstan passport. In order for him to buy land in Russia he needs a Russian passport, even though he is Russian. The only way was for him to reach St. Petersburg, where he could get one, buy land and build a house with a vegetable garden. He is 60 years old an walking the width of Russia. He entertained us with travel stories, including one where he carried his bike 1500km before this road was built, and on one small part where he could actually ride it through some trees, went straight in between two brown bears. One of them he named the karate bear as it chased him knocking the trees down! His advice for us was to hang our socks near the tent so a bear will know it's not his territory. If we meet a Siberian Tiger we must wait until it moves before we can, unless it's already behind you. Top tips from a top bloke.
I asked him to stay with us but he wanted to reach the small chapel further along to sleep there. He remembers when it was the original border crossing.

Next day the road wasn't too bad, averaging 40-50mph. The oncoming convoys of Japanese cars who often take the best track along this road, were more dangerous than the surface. It was pure guesswork as to what side of you they would pass.

17 Korean Harley Davidsons appeared through the dust, they were going to Hamburg. Amazing guys riding totally inappropriate bikes for this road and I was worried about our Triumphs! I've never had so many photos taken of me!

Later we met Yoshi, a Japanese guy also on his way to Germany on an Africa twin, had ridden two days in the rain. His wide eyed gesticulating description of the oncoming potholes didn't fill me with confidence, but at least the sandy parts would be wet and not dusty. Everyday was bringing us closer to tarmac.....

Strange things happen when you travel.

I tried to concentrate on the beautiful scenery of purple and yellow flowers amongst the long green grass and the few trees that hide us from the road at night. This stretch of road was quite bad. Geoff can stand on the pegs and seems to drift across the surface, whereas my height means I can only sit and wobble along, hanging on for dear life. I try to remember all the tips Geoff and Rick gave me, keep a loose grip on the bars so the front wheel can find it's own way across the gravel, on and off the throttle to keep the front under some sort of control but soon enough after many a scary moment, my arms are aching. I'm full of awe at how people can ride off road, it's a strange feeling having the bike moving around underneath you, threatening to throw you at any moment.

I was physically and mentally tired out. My emotions running wild, I was homesick and racked with guilt for annoying Geoff. How could I make it up to him when I was facing hundreds of miles of rough road slowing him up with my inexperience. It's tough when you know someone is better off without you. I thought of the encouraging texts I'd received from my brother Phil. 'Lean on the Lord and nothing will befall you.' I was brought up a Christian but never understood religion. Why are there so many? All religions seem to do is fight each other. It seemed to me that everyone needs something to believe in and simply picks a religion that suits their lifestyle or culture. Too many questions and not enough answers. My answer was to live a good clean life, trying to do good things, at least that way I knew I wasn't a bad man.

But I never became the man I though I was. Here I am, nearly forty years old, gave up a decent job, sold everything to get just enough money to ride a bike around the world, hoping to have something interesting to talk about to my kids if I'm ever lucky enough to have any. This really is a once in a lifetime experience for me, I own nothing except my bike, and I'm doing my best to wreck that in the middle of Siberia. I must be mad. I didn't even know who I was anymore. I had lost myself so what else was there to lose? I prayed like I'd never prayed before.

'Ok Lord, you win. I'm a beaten man, please help me to be the man you want me to be!'

The bike seemed to float for a moment and I felt as if I was being cradled in a hammock. What was happening to me? My tears flowed through the dust on my face. I could barely see the narrow wheel tracks in between the gravel. A voice spoke to me.

'Don't cry. I can show you the way my son, but I still need you to steer the bike!'

I desperately wiped my face trying to understand what was happening. I must be going insane. Could it really be God speaking to me or is my weakened mind playing tricks. The engine sounded like I needed to change up a gear but I didn't, I was riding 10mph faster! How could this be? From that moment I knew Geoff and I would both be safe, we wont crash and the bikes wont break. I can't explain how good it felt to be there at that moment. God had saved me from myself. How am I going to explain this to Geoff? Everyone is going to think I'm a nutter! Or maybe everyone thinks I am anyway. Maybe I'll tell him tomorrow.
Riding a motorcycle has often been compared to having a religious experience. I never expected to actually have one while riding my bike!

I saw Geoff having a moment in a deeper part of the gravel but he saved it. Just then my front wheel dug in at 30mph and I was out of control and going down. The bike dived to the left and suddenly accelerated straightening itself up. I was still on the bike and heading for the trees! I shut the throttle and came to a stop at the edge of the road. All I know is I didn't do anything to save that crash. Someone is looking after me.
One of the machines spreading this pleasant road surface beeped its horns for us to stop. Geoff climbed up to the driver and was given a rude air freshener. We were surrounded my workmen offering food and vodka! It's a shame to turn down their generosity but we have to ride the bikes!

Geoff found a beautiful meadow to camp. The steep slope and deep wheel rut meant Geoff had a bike to ground interface. Makes for a good photo though, I've done it myself three times so far. I was still grateful he rode mine for me through the water under a railway bridge and into the meadow. Wild red lillies and many colourful flowers made a stunning campsite.

I was woken by a loud roar. Geoff snored peacefully. I've heard a few strange noises in the night during this trip but this time it wasn't Geoff. The roaring got louder and closer. It could only be a bear! I thought it prudent to hide in the tent and not look. Closer and closer. I couldn't believe Geoff was still asleep. I would have to wake him, but the bear was very close, what should I do? I waited to see if the bear got any closer, it must be within 50ft of the tents. It sat there for a while grunting it's discontent at our presence. There was a large stick near the fire but could I find it in the dark? The last thing I wanted to do was fight a bear but if it came any closer I would have to do something to protect Geoff. I'm no hero but I have nothing to lose. I listened intently for the bears next move. Slowly, the roaring started moving away! Wow that was close! Maybe it got a whiff of our boots or maybe it thought Geoff was another bear snoring....

We were safe to ride again another day on the world's third most dangerous road.

I wanted to open my eyes to the world, not close them on myself

As we prepared to leave the hotel in Chita, Geoff dropped a bombshell. He'd had enough of me and wanted to ride alone. I'd been no help to him and he was quite rightly fed up of carrying me. All I did was bring him down. He was right. He was always organised and I was a mess. Russia had been difficult for me, as were alot of aspects of travelling that I never expected to encounter, especially the most important one, finding out who you really are.
I'd been so worried about everything I'd lost all confidence and felt totally useless. The guilt of letting Geoff do everything and worrying, I didn't even realise how blinkered I'd become. I had no excuse, he was right, I never would've got this far without him and I was panicking. I really didn't want to take the train. The Amur highway may beat me but I have to try. Three crashes so far didn't help me but I was still here and the bike was ok.
Now that I was fully aware of the problems I was causing I could do something about it. I should be Geoff's backup on this trip, not get his back up! I was surprised he agreed to let me tag along if I promised to start pulling my weight. I had to change, get back to my old self. I knew I could and I promised to make the rest of the trip an enjoyable one. Why I couldn't do such a simple thing right from the start is a mystery to me. I was confident when we set off from England, but stupid enough to let things get on top of me, riding the bike was the easy bit....

We left Chita along 200km of scenic tarmac before the gravel started. This is where I would have to prove to myself that I could do this. The Triumph is big and heavy and not suited to off road at all. Just like myself! The first part wasn't too bad. I ridden on worse, slowly my confidence grows, maybe I could make it after all? I thought of all the other bikers riding across the highway, laughing at my ineptitude, but we all have to start somewhere and this road will either kill or cure me.

Ulan Ude - Chita

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......

Come in number six, your time is up!

We had a late start from Bolshoi Calais, saying farewells and crowds of photo opportunities, we felt like celebrities! Back in Irkutsk I couldn't get money from an ATM. Rick managed to but after another go I realised it was out of cash and found another one in a pharmacy which paid out. Good job I'm not the worrying type.....

The evening mist from the lake was making me cold for the first time in Russia, after expecting to be frozen at night time crossing Siberia, the weather has been excellent, too hot in fact during the afternoons. Two kids on a scooter stopped us. We gave them fuel, water and Geoff even gave them a cigarette, then off they went carrying a guitar with them.

Rick found a good spot to camp on the edge of Lake Baikal near to the railway. A few big puddles but I was ok following their lead until a railway sleeper hiding in a huge puddle didn't move out of the way of my front wheel! My third crash so far. Luckily I rolled across the pile of sleepers so only half of me got wet! A few scratches to the bike and an indicator retrieved by Geoff from the water while I squelched up and down with a boot full of cold water! Luckily Geoff remembered to take a picture before we dragged the bike up, and my bag proved to be waterproof but apparently I didn't look too jovial in the photo....

I sat by the fire on the beach with Rick late that night and he sensed I was fed up. I was annoyed with myself for crashing for the third time.
"Why don't you just let Russia into your heart?" he asked. I knew Russia wasn't the problem, it was me. The only thing keeping me going was Geoff and Rick, if they could do it, so can I! The ever helpful Russians were also a big help. Everyday they put a smile on my face, they are so full of life, nothings a problem or a worry and I wished I could see life through their eyes.
This trip has been a steep learning curve for me in many ways, but finding out things about yourself you don't like is never an easy lesson. I had a long way to go on these roads and even further in my mind to get back to myself. Something would break soon enough and I was fighting myself all the way. All I wanted was for us to enjoy this trip, why was I making it so difficult for myself? I was only riding a bike all day. Of all the problems I'd anticipated I'd overlooked the most important one, to enjoy it!

A text message from a friend cheered me up. I was raising money for charity and doing some good. I smiled to myself and started to laugh at the sight of me drying my soaking boot by the fire.

Why don't English people just dance?

I found Rick asleep under a tree after I'd taken so long to catch up with him after leaving lake Baikal with Geoff patently following me. That was the toughest ride of my life and I was annoyed with myself for not being able to enjoy it like they could.
Rick wanted us to join him at Bolshoi Calais, an old Soviet holiday camp he had discovered 'couch surfing'. It was very hot in the busy traffic back in Irkutsk, and the road to the holiday site was very bad from my point of view, but I made it and got a strange sense of pleasure from riding successfully on such a bad road and was quite proud of myself! After much negotiating with the park security, Rick was let in to find the young English teacher 'Spike' at the 'Happy School'. Our room was dank but interesting. The whole site had changed little over the years and I was surprised the Soviets even had holiday parks. Maybe it was so they could keep an eye on the holidaymakers if they were all in the same place. Groups of mostly girls played volleyball, tennis, or had lessons of English, art or even mime. The whole place was overgrown and run down but nobody seemed to notice, they we just glad to be there. English had to be spoken at all times, a few songs such as YMCA, Robbie Williams or other joyful songs were sung.
An example from their guidebook was, "It is up to me to be happy, events or circumstances cannot change this" or, "My stomach may be hungry but I will eat when it is time to eat, I am not an eating machine" It seemed like brainwashing to me but they were all very happy and who am I to judge. Geoff entertained a crowd with travelling stories, explaining to one girl how impressed he was to see people dancing in a cafe in Volgograd, as the English need to get drunk before they dance as we are too self conscious. She replied, "Why don't English people just dance?"