Russia part 2

I've been given a new nickname - Matt the lazy. The person who has given me this name is annoyingly French and so in an attempt to belittle his nickname giving ability I have decided to stop being lazy and actually write about what happened in Mongolia and Russia.

Have to start it on a bit of a bad note unfortunately. In every entry so far I have been really positive about the people I met and the places I visited. And all of that is true. I haven't exaggerated or made anything up. I've been debating whether to write this but I think it probably is worth mentioning since it has had a big impact on my memories of Mongolia.

Western Mongolia was fantastic although very difficult as I wrote about before. But there was a problem which I didn't mention. I said that the people I had met were really friendly and curious. That is true - for the people who approached me. But whenever I approached someone and attempted to start a conversation all I ever got in return was blank stares. They didn't even try to make an effort. They just stared and when they had had enough they wandered off. At one point I passed an overturned van by the side of the road. There were 2 people sat next to it, one of them had a bandage around his head. I stopped to see if there was anything I could do for them but after 10 minutes of trying to elict any sort of response not one of them had made any vocal sound at all. This is not an exaggeration, I couldn't even get an 'ok' from them. In Ulaanbaatar it was even worse. It was impossible to talk to the locals. Any attempt was coldly rejected. And that really annoyed me. In every other country I have talked English while they talked their own language. Sure, we didn't understand each other, but at least we tried.

Ok, rant over.

I was staying at a guesthouse/hotel in UB which is very popular with anyone with a motorcycle or 4x4. While I was staying there Ekke and Audrey turned up having been slightly delayed in Russia. It was good to catch up again and eventually they headed off to China while I went north.

I met a couple other bikers there who were also heading to Japan and we decided to team up. I mean, what could possibly go wrong. I am half British, half American riding a bike composed entirely of wishful thinking. Yan is half French, half Swiss and half Spanish riding a bike composed entirely of gaffer tape. Uwe is a German living in Sweden and riding an Austrian bike. I can see absolutely no problems with border formalities ahead.

But first we had to hang around for a couple of days waiting for some paperwork to be DHL'd over for Yan. It turned out that DHLs 3 day express service is actually a 7 day when-we-can-be-bothered service. So that left a bit of time to look around UB. For the most part the city is horrible. I really have nothing nice to say about it except that it is possible to leave. There are only two things worth going to. The central square is admittedly quite nice. And there is a giant statue of Chinggis Khan, which isn't even anywhere near the city.

I spent a bit of time researching the sort of things to expect from local wildlife in Russia. You know only useful stuff like this and this and this.

All things conspired that I was actually quite glad to be leaving Mongolia. And so the new, invincible super team of completely professional bikers left Ulaanbaatar confident and ready to take on the ravages of Siberia. Two days later we said goodbye and went our separate directions.

The border wasn't too bad but took a long time. On the other side we ran into a 4 Polish bikers riding Ural sidecar outfits. Very brave.

The next day we ran into them again. One of the bikes was in pieces as they sorted out a 'small' problem with the valves.

We spent a night near Ulan-Ude. Yan and I we keen to head out to lake Baikal since it was so close (it was a 350km detour, but when faced with a road stretching nearly 4000km to the Pacific 350km doesn't seem too bad). Uwe just wanted to head on so we split up. It took a couple hours to reach the lake and we got to see it for an entire minute of so before the fog closed in.

It was really nice to be back in a proper country with tarmac, good food and friendly people. The riding was really good and that day we managed to do around 650km stopping 200km short of Chita where we had arranged to meet up with Uwe again.

It took a while but once in Chita we eventually met up with Uwe. Chita was a really nice city so we decided to have a day off and look around. Uwe reluctantly agreed to spend another night. It was evening now and there were some local bikers gathering outside the cafe where we were sat. Yan and I ran off to grab our bikes and join in. Turned out they were some of the friendliest people you couple hope to meet. We ended up going for a late night ride with them and then back to the Pizzeria run by one of them (look up Kom Da Vinvi in Chita, very good).

The video was better

In the morning we were taken out to a garage run by one of the club members who managed to sort out Yans lingering electrical problem and my bent forks. Then we were taken around to various monuments and old churches in the city.

Best. Garage. Ever.

By this point Uwe was getting annoyed with Yan and I paying so much attention to bikes and the local girls that he decided to take off by himself again. Yan and I spent one more night in the city before heading off as well.

We had about 2800km left to ride to reach the first of 2 ferries we needed to use to reach Japan. And we had only 4 days to do it. Hmmmm.

But we did manage it. There isn't really much to say about it since every day was just riding for hours on end. Our longest day was 1040km which was pure murder. Our off time was mostly spent bickering about whose country sucked more. France. Obviously.

One night was more memorable than most. We had tried to get into a hotel but because we arrived late in the day we ran into the typical Russian "no, sorry, we are 'full'" things. So we had to camp. At 3 am that night we were woken by a large animal walking through our campsite making a lot of noise. Thanks to all the 'research' I had done in UB I hadn't brought any food into the tent. But neither Yan or I were prepared to deal with a bear. I coped with the incident by convincing myself that it wasn't actually a bear, it was a dog or wolf or something equally impossible. The next morning Yan convinced me once again it was a bear. I hate camping.

Outside Khabarovsk we met up with Uwe again for the final stretch to Vanino. The last few hundred kms was unpaved but that was fine. Nothing too challenging.

We rolled into Vanino very late at night but managed to find a hotel. Just as we pulled up Yans bike died. Properly died. Absolutely no electricity to be found anywhere. I had been telling him for days that it was the battery which was the problem but in true French style he refused to listen to the Englishman and insisted it was something else. At the hotel we diagnosed the problem as (surprise, surprise) the battery. The next morning a local biker helped us find a replacement and then guided us through the nightmare that was buying ferry tickets.

We made it on to the ferry with minutes to spare. The ship turned out to be a Japanese refuse barge which was condemned in the mid-60s, set adrift, found by the Russians decades later and repurposed as a vehicle ferry without any modification or renovation. Still, the local truckers took a liking to us and the vodka soon came out.

I forgot this guys name as soon as he told me so I shall just refer to him as Victor. Victor is pretty much the most Russian guy I have ever met. He is obsessed with money, smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish and has a beard. But he is a great guy. I'm not sure how... but I might have agreed to exchange my motorcycle for his truck. Managed to run away before he insisted we complete.

We arrived off the coast of Sakhalin several hours late. I stood on the deck and watched as we headed towards the port of Kholmsk, turned and headed back out to sea. A short time later we were heading towards the harbour again. And then out to sea. For 2 hours we sat in the Sea of Japan and did donuts. Russians.

Sakhalin island was very pretty. It probably would have been prettier if it wasn't raining.

We ran straight down to Korsakov without really stopping since we didn't have tickets for the next ferry. After struggling to find the port we ran into a shipping agent who sorted everything out for the very reasonable sum of ALL OF YOUR MONEY. But it was probably worth it, we never would have managed to get through the paperwork by ourselves. Uwe nearly wasn't let in because he didn't have an international driving license but eventually they relented after intervention from the German embassy in Tokyo.

On board the ferry our bikes were immediately impounded and had to be thoroughly cleaned thanks to strict Japanese quarantine laws.

And then

Japan