All posts by Walter

Altai, Kazakhstan, Mongolia, Russia, Siberia, Sibirsky Extreme

A Tale of 4 Altais

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01.10.09

The night in the cheap hotel in Tosontsengel had been a cold one and I had gone down to the bike to get my sleeping bag to help get through the night.  There was no heating, no shower and the toilet was the outside squat.  Not surprisingly, when the morning came, I just wanted to hit the road.  I would find a shower tonight I guess.  It was still below zero when I left the hotel soon after 9am, but the weather was in good form – there was not a cloud in sight.

I switched on my heated jacket and gloves and headed off through Zavhan.  I was hoping to get to Uliastay by lunch and Altai by the end of the day – just under 400km.  I knew I would be stopping often for photographs as the region had that rare combination of good light, good air, and appealing geography.  I seem to have found a way to get vaguely acceptable shots from my non-focussing camera so the amazing opportunities are not completely wasted.  But oh how I wish it was fully functional.

I was unlikely to meet any other motorcycle travellers today, unlike the previous 2 days, as I was effectively crossing from the northern to the southern route across Mongolia.  I had tried to put together a track that took in the best of each route and left out the boring bits.

The track to Uliastay was not particularly exciting, but it was fast.  I was over 100km/h on many sections and made it to Uliastay at midday.  I stopped for fuel and a look around the market before hitting the road about 1pm.  If I kept up the good pace, I should make Altai about 4pm.  I started thinking about doing more miles after Altai and camping in the desert, but the need of a shower tempered that thought.  Altai was the capital of its province so would have hotels with showers … and internet.

The part of Zavhan south of Uliastay was indeed the foto paradise I was looking for.  The pics seemed not too bad, even if the focus is not 100% there.

The landscape was all set at around 1700-1800 metres with regular passes taking the track up thhrough 2500 metres.  At that altitude, temperatures are a good 15-17 degrees colder than sea level.  As had been the norm in Mongolia, it was cold in the morning, warmed up about 1-2pm and became cold again after 5-6pm.

It was 200km from Uliastay to Altai and I needed to make it with my 10 litre fuel tank.  My super additional 12 litre tank has been un-serviceable since near Krasnoyarsk, through no fault of its own.  It needs an airtight main fuel tank to work, as it draws fuel on the basis of the air pressure differential between the tanks.  I have an airleak in the main fuel tank and so my reserve fuel does not get drawn through.  I blew fuel through for the first few tanks, but it takes a half hour of blowing, and very sore cheeks to empty the reserve tank.  I tried sealing it up with silicone, but also to no long lasting result.  So instead I bought a spare 10 litre plastic canister on the outskirts of UB for 50p, and I have put 3 litres in that.  So far I havent had to use it.  So … can I get across Mongolia using just my 10 litre tank?  Stay tuned!

Altai city came into view about 4:15 and I headed for the main post office, also home to the towns main internet service.  I had planned to google hotels, and see what was popular with foreigners.  There were a few that I passed on the way into town.  As a general rule, I dont do guidebooks, as they tend to make people lazy and turn travel into a package tour, but I did regret having no information on Mongolian hotels.  Fortunately I met a Canadian woman and her guide at the internet centre and she recommended the place she was staying at.  Her guide gave me directions and 3 minutes later I had a home for the night.

– – –

02.10.09

I am getting into a routine … wake at 8, pack and try and be on the bike by 9.  Add on refuelling and getting some food / water, and that translates to being on the road by about 9:30.  And so I left Altai city at 9:30, right on schedule.  I wanted to get to Hovd, 430 km away.  It would probably be a long boring day.  The interesting part of this route would come after Hovd – between Hovd and Olgiy – the Altai mountains, populated largely by Kazakhs.  In between the town of Altai and the Altai Mountains near Hovd was the western end of the Gobi desert.

I was still determined to test the accuracy of my Mongolian road map and head off across the desert with just my 10 litres in the tank and a 3 litre reserve.

The road varied from nice graded gravel to miserable corrugations, but I found if you ride the corrugations at 90-100 km/h you seem to skim over the top of them.  Ride at 60-70 km/h and the bike threatens to shake to pieces.

Soon after leaving Altai, the road dropped in altitude over 500 meters.  I had been riding at 1700-2000 metres for most of the last 2 days, with runs up to 2500 metres for the passes.  But as we entered the desert, the road dropped to 1300 metres, and the air became warm.  So warm infact that by 10:15 I had switched off the heated vest and gloves.  That had been something that had not been happening until about 1-2 pm the previous days.

I made it 215km to the halfway point, Darvi and refuelled (it was the first fuel available since leaving Altai).  My fuel consumption was good.  4l/100km.  So I would get 250 km out of a 10 litre tank.  Hovd was 215 km further.  I should make it.  I pressed on.

The bottle of water I purchased had fallen off the bike somewhere and when I stopped for drink because my mouth was dry, there was no fluid to be found.  I would have to go thirsty until Hovd.  Better not break down then I guess.

I began thinking that since I was making such good pace, why not press on to Olgiy.  There was supposed to be the annual Kazakh eagle festival there ending today.  I might catch some leftovers if I am lucky.  Olgiy was another 230 km beyond Hovd, over mountains the whole way.  Darkness should come about 7pm …  so it all depends on when I get to Hovd.

Hovd came into view as I crossed a pass about 3pm.  It looked bigger than all the other regional centres in Mongolia.  I was so early that not only could I press onto Olgiy, but I stopped to have some lunch … and a lot to drink.

I left Hovd at 4:15.  I had less than 3 hours to do 230km, over rough Mongolian dirt roads and mountains.  It was going to be tight.  In times like these I treated the bike like a red-headed step-son – I cane the crap out of it.  The track was sometimes smooth as silk and sometimes very rough gravel or just plain rocky.  The bike took a hell of a beating but as usual, came out grinning.  To make matters worse in terms of time, I kept stopping for photos.  Along with Zavhan, this Altai mountain region was the other area I particularly wanted to see and photograph in Mongolia.

The town of Tolbo appeared 5-6 km away on the left just over half way to Olgiy.  It had fuel.  I decided to chance it and ignore Tolbo.  I didnt want to commit the time to do an extra 12km and the bike should be fine on this stretch of 230 km.  With just 30 km to go to Olgiy the sun dipped below the mountains.  I had 30 mins of twilight left so would make it to Olgiy easily.  But I couldnt ignore the light.  The light was fantastic now that the sun was gone and the scenery worked really well with it.  I made countless photos and each time went to all sorts of trouble to create tripods from rocks.  I kept stopping all the way to Olgiy, the result being I still had about 12 km to go when I realised it was now totally dark.  Well at least there would be no more photos.

With my twin HID50s illuminating the way, I flew across the grasslands at 70 km/h in the dark and as seemed to be the norm with Mongolian towns, you cross a small pass and then the town is lying in the valley floor below you.  Olgiy was well lit up, probably for the eagle hunting festival thing.

I found a hotel in town and was about to settle in for the night when I heard english language voices down the corridor.  It was a room full of Americans.  I asked how was the Eagle festival, and they said it had been postponed a couple of days and started tomorrow.  Cool!  I am not really a festival guy, so I dont plan on hanging around Olgiy, but I might catch some characters around tomorrow morning as I leave town.

– – –

03.10.09

It was only 105km from Olgiy to the Russian border and I left as usual at 9:30.  There was very little stirring in the streets as I rode around looking for action.  I guess people wake later in Olgiy.  The just on the outskirts of town I saw one.  A proud Kazakh on his horse, his right arm weighed down with a massive hunting eagle.  In a second I had killed my noisy bike engine and was pulling the Nikon from my tankbag.  I rattled off a series of shots hoping there would be something useable in there.  Sadly the background was pure “suburban Olgiy” and with the camera only operating on certain settings, the results were less than ideal.  But better than nothing I guess.

I headed out across the Altai mountains towards the Russian border and the Altai republic.  There are a whole bunch of Altais … the whole Altai region is spread across 4 countries, centred roughly where Kazakhstan, Russia, China and Mongolia meet in a near X shaped corner.  I was in the Mongol Altai, heading for the Kazakh Altai, via the Russian Altai.  As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the Altai region is believed to be the original home of the Turkic peoples, so its not surprising that here in western Mongolia many of the people are not Mongol, but Kazakh and Tuvan, two Turkic nationalities.

I stopped on the outskirts of Olgiy to photograph a yurt suburb (yurt is the turkic word for what mongolic people call a ger – since I am now in Olgiy, where turkic is the predominant language group, I feel obliged to call the round white tent thing a ‘yurt’.  As I was photographing the yurts, an old guy approached me with a smile and a ‘salaam aleikum’.

‘Aleikum asalaam’ I replied as it was brought home to me that I am (in theory) not really in Mongolia anymore, but the undefined land of ‘Altai’.  I hit the road knowing that in 100km I would not even be in Mongolia – in fact.

At exactly 11am I rolled up to the Mongol border post.  It was 4 days to the minute that I had left UB.  I had rolled out of UB at 11am on Tuesday and now it was 11am on Saturday.  It was time to do the border paperwork shuffle.  As I waited there at this crossing between Altais, it occurred to me all 4 Altais have different times.  Its 11am in the Mongolian Altai, 10am in the Russian Altai, 9am in the Kazakh Altai and midday in the Chinese Altai.

By 1pm Russian Altai time (2pm Mongolian time) I was through.  It had been a 3 hour border crossing.  About the longest of the trip to date.  I didnt know where I was heading, but was just going to head as far up the M52 as I could get to before dark – about 6:30pm.

I stopped for fuel in Kosh Agach, having picked up the route Tony and I had ridden 4 months earlier.  I had looked over to my right on the road into town and seen Korkorya and the valley that leads up to the Buguzin pass and Tuva way in the distance.  It brought back a lot of memories – tough gritty memories.

180 km from the border and I stopped again in Aktash.  I needed food, money and the bike needed a rinse after 2000 Mongolian kilometres since UB.  Aktash was ideal.  Tony and I had been marooned here for 36 hours waiting out rain and bad weather 4 months ago so we knew the town well.  I knew where the ATM was, the best cafe in town and the only guy in town with a jet wash.  I stocked up on cash, grabbed a couple of piroshki and headed over to ‘the presidents’ place, where Dima Medvedev recognised me immediately and shuffled me into his jet wash bay.

As he washed he was full of questions about where we had been the last 4 months.  He was aghast at the answers.  He looked at the bike and shook his head … “Its a very good motorcycle – a really really good motorcycle” he said in Russian.

I hadnt really thought about it, but since I last saw Dima, the bike had been across the highlands and swamps of Tuva, had gone from Irkutsk north to Udachny, across the Vilyuisky Trakt to Yakutsk, the Road of Bones to Magadan, the 4000 km BAM ‘track’, a second run north to Udachny and now across Mongolia …. 4 months and not a lot of asphalt to show for it.  All of the above are dirt roads and tracks.  4 months of dirt roads, back to back, day in, day out.  And dont nurse it one bit.  I guess Dima was right … the bike had done a remarkable job.

I rode away from Aktash feeling prouder of my bike than I ever have been.  Fuck yeah … its done a hell of a job.  It was a big call taking a bike that had no pedigree in terms of long distance touring.  But I wanted something different.  I wanted something light.  I wanted something powerful. I was back on asphalt now and apart from small stretches, would probably be on asphalt all the way back to London.  The hard yards were done.

This little bike is a solid unit.  I have done nothing to the engine but change the oil every 10,000km (full synthetic only for me), the filter every 20,000km, and changed the plugs once.  I had the valves checked in Krasnoyarsk 5,000km ago for the first time since picking up the bike (when it had just 600km on the clock) and all the clearances were still within tolerances.  Solid !  It doesnt get any lower maintenance than that.

Incredibly I had some sceptics question the engine prior to the trip as it is now made in Taiwan. Probably the same people who sniggered at Japanese engines in the 1980s, just as Honda were putting out the incredibly reliable Africa Twin and TransAlp engines.

My initial concern about front brake pads have disappeared.  The first set had worn away in Eastern Europe after less than 7000km.  So I stocked up and prepared to go thru dozens.  I still have 3 full sets with me.  I havent changed them in 3 months.  That first set must have just been a dodgy batch.

The torque of the engine and the sandy riding have meant I am on my 4th front sprocket and chain, but then again I am up to 42,000km now on the trip.  Incredibly, I am still on the original rear sprocket, and have long since thrown away the spare.  Next trip I will try these lifetime guarantee Sidewinder titanium sprockets. I like the idea of a long trip without having to carry spare sprockets, apart from a change of size for the front.

Perhaps the biggest unsung hero on the bike for me, is the seat.  I go for weeks on end without thinking about it and then suddenly realise the fact I havent thought about means its perfect.  Quite literally perfect.  When I get back to Holland I will get Ray to make a plaster mould of this seat because what he has done to this seat is utter perfection.  Everyone with an X-Challenge NEEDS to have this seat – exactly like mine – because its absolutely perfect for every kind of riding.

I was on a high filled with this burst of pride in my machine, and the miles rolled by quickly.  The scenery was very different from 4 months ago.  Then it was green and lush, now without the colour, it seemed more stark.  Looking from the opposite direction is always a different view too.

By 6pm the border was almost 500km behind me.  I was not far from Gorno Altaisk, where I could probably find a hotel, but there were loads of low key places to stay by the roadside, backing onto the Katun river.  I checked out a couple and found one to call home for the night.  A family on vacation having a barbeque at the same place insisted on feeding me.  Barbequed chicken wings and pork shops done to perfection.  After 10 days in Mongolia it was a heavenly change.

– – –

04.10.09

I woke up prepared for a big push on to the Kazakh border.  The second border crossing in 2 days. But something stuck in my head.  Everyone last night from my fellow guests to the owners of the hotel were telling me I had to see Lake Teletskoye.  Its 150 km east of Gorno Altaisk and apparently a real highlight of the region.  Bearing in mind how scenic the Altai Republic is in general, a place thats a real highlight here must be really quite nice.  I decided to ride up Gorno Altaisk, and see how the weather was holding out.  If it was OK, I would go to Lake Teletskoye, but if rain was possible, then I just  make a B-line for the KZ border.

I got to Gorno Altaisk and the weather looked ok … So Teletskoye it was.  The road left Gorno Altaisk and weaved its asphalted way though dense forests and hills.  I can imagine in summer, when the trees are green and have leaves, that this must be a spectacularly beautiful road.  It took over 2 hours to do the 150km, but it was pleasant all the way.  I got to the village of Artibash on the shores of the lake and after some inital difficulties, found a hotel room for the night.  It was a good chance to catch up on writing and sorting fotos, with the pretty lake right outside the window.

– – –

05.10.09

I had to get an early start as I now had to backtrack 2½ hours just to get back to Gorno Altaisk. From there it was 500km and about 6 hours on back roads through the Altai Krai to get to the border near Zmeinogorsk. Sadly, my hopes for an early start didnt plan out well as I discovered I had a flat battery. So, after digging out my jumper leads and flagging down a friendly local, I was underway. I refuelled at Artibash and hit the road about 9am. So far my little 10 litre tank was doing the job. It had got me across Mongolia. Stopping to refuel every 2 hours or so was a pain. The bike and I both were used to riding all day without refuelling. Each fuel stop just chewed up time and miles out of the day.

The route I was taking back was deliberately different to the route I took coming out. The back roads of the Altai are definately worth exploring and there is more than one interesting route. I crossed the Katun river about 10km south of Gorno Altaisk (after refuelling again), at the village of Aya (over a very cool suspension bridge), and headed west.

Once crossing the river I was in the Altai Krai, which in reality is very Russian. On the way out Tony and I had taken back roads through the Altai Republic, through villages that were completely Altai. The roads through the Krai were almost all asphalted, whereas the backroads we had taken through the Republic were largely dirt. The next stop was the town of Petropavlovskoye, where I had met Tony 4 months ago. I refuelled again and continued, now following the route I had taken earlier.

I was making excellent time and was looking like I would hit the border about 5:15pm when a jerk on the motorcycle and a change in the wind noise indicated we had a problem. I looked around and saw one of my Ortlieb side paniers rolling down the road beside me. It had snapped clean off. My first thoughts on seeing the bag bouncing down the asphalt at 80km/h were ‘oh fuck, whats going to be broken in there?’ Calm returned when I realised it was just spare sparts and camping mattress.

I pulled over, retrieved the bag and began my investigation. It appears that a loose strap from the bag had fallen down and got wrapped around the rear axle at 100km/h, resulting in the bag ripping off. Loose straps are a nightmare. That was the second time onthe trip sommething like that had happened. I must learn to cut them rather than try to secure the full length. This strap had been tied in a knot around the luggage rack but I guess given enough time and enough vibrations and …. whats that old maxim of evolutionary science?? … “Its irrelevant how improbable an event is – given enough time, it becomes inevitable.”

So 40 minutes later I was back on the road. My side bags now strapped firm to my luggage rack, rather than resting over it. The only damage to my contents was the breaking off of the nozzle of the chain lube can, and some ‘discharge’ from same in my pannier bag. I could live with that.

I headed off towards Zmeinogorsk at great haste, trying to make up time. It would be dark by 7pm Russian time and I would now only get to the border about 6pm. Then of course there was the border crossing itself. That too would take some hours. On the other side, I would try and get to Ridder (Leninogorsk) where I had some friends from the way out.

I refuelled for the last time in Russia and while zipping through traffic in Zmeinogorsk focussed solely on that border 40km away I was caught out. Overtaking in towns is a big no-no in Russia … especially around pedestrian crossings, and especially overa solid white line in the middle. The GAI (traffic police) pulled me over and this time I had no complaints. I was guilty.

I played my only card … the dumb foreigner look, feigning poor russian. I was pulled into the back of the jeep and told they can take away my licence for 6 months. As it happens, I know they cant to this with foreign licences. Only the British government can cancel a British Driving Licence. So I just kept apologising and otherwise playing dumb. I think in the end the idea of processing the paperwork for a foreigner put them off and I got off with a very stern talking to. As a parting thought, once the stern faces were done with, they smiled and asked if I could offer them any souvenirs by way of apology. As it happens I could. I had some union jack badges in my tankbag and happily fished out three for the good officers of the Zmeinogorsk GAI.

After that let off, I pulled away gingerly and cruised gently through town. They could have detained me for hours, or at the minimum extracted a thousand rubles (or a lot more) out of me, but I had been lucky. Guilty as sin, and just a stern talking to and a 15 minute delay.

I finally made the border at 6:15. The Russians were super friendly and confirmed this is THE spot to cross the Russia – Kazakh border. Literally 10 minutes and I was through the Russian side. No exaggeration … TEN minutes. It was a 5 minute ride across no-mans-land to the Kazakh post and I arrived there at 6:30 – or rather 5:30 Kazakh time. The sun was now setting. I would be riding the 170km to Ridder in the dark.

The Kazakhs were also pretty laid back, but entering a country requires more paperwork than leaving, and one customs guy decided he needed to inspect 3 of my 4 bags. That was a waste of 20 minutes. Still, I was through the Kazakh post in 45 minutes. The whole border done in an hour. Thats a record for me … a proper border crossing down in an hour.

I headed off for Shemonaikha at 6:15 KZ time with headlights blazing. With the sun down it was now cooling rapidly. I pulled in to refuel and dug out some Kazakh Tenge I had stashed away in reserve when I last left the country from the same border point 4 months ago.

By 8:45 I had made it to Ridder, and pulled out my phone to call Sasha and Zhenya, but the phone battery was dead. Damn. I was cold. I pulled into a nearby hotel, plugged the phone into a wall socket and called. Damn again … they were away for a day or two in Oskemen (Ust-Kamenogorsk). So I just unloaded my gear into the hotel and called it a night. I had ridden over 800km today, the biggest day of the trip so far … and that included a border crossing.

It was a tiring way to finish the Altais … Mongolian Altai to Russian Altai and on to the Kazakh Altai. It got me thinking, one of these days I need to ride the Chinese Altai and finish the 4 Altais.

… maybe a project for next year …

Mongolia, Sibirsky Extreme

Mongolia

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or should it be called “Breakfasts at Tiffany’s”?

25.09.09 Ulaanbaatar

I had to wait till the following day to try and contact the people who might be able to answer my queries regarding the shipping the bike back to the UK from UB so I took the bike out to a German guy running a bike tour business in UB.  The fox of the steppe, “Steppenfuchs” has enough bikes to justify having a couple of local Mongol bike mechanics – guys who see a lot of BMWs and seem pretty familiar with them.  I had a couple of minor niggles fixed and the bike felt a lot better.  It was still very cold and I was frozen riding the 4-5 km back to the guesthouse.

The guesthouse crew included Tiffany the cornish biker girl, waiting for a new alternator rotor, Ben a young London lad backpacking his way around the world, and other itinerants.  Tiff had been in UB a few days awaiting her DHL part and had 5-6 days more to wait before she should get it.  Ben was awaiting a Chinese visa.  We became the core three responsible for leading evening drinking sessions.

For those who dont know Tiff (A mutual friend via biking contacts back in the UK) she has been riding around the world for much of the last 10 years on a BMW R80 … her website is at www.TiffanysTravels.co.uk.

– – –

26.09.09

Tiff kicked off the day with a big english fry up.  Despite being a vegetarian she even got bacon for Ben and me – what a trooper!  I was unable to get in touch with my UB contact.  If I needed to ship the bike back and I still couldnt get in touch with my Mongolian contact, there was always Mr Steppenfuchs … he can ship a bike back to Berlin.

The afternoon was spent down at UB’s huge market … known as the Black Market, where Ben almost got pickpocketed, before Tiff’s timely intervention. By this stage 7 of the 9 people staying in our guesthouse had been the target of pickpockets in UB … just Tiff and me were unscathed.  Must be the hardened biker faces.  Later on we all went out to catch some live music at one of UBs more popular evening venues – Strings club at the White House Hotel.  If anyone is heading this way, there is a surprisingly good cover band (from the Philippines) that plays there 6 nights a week starting at midnight.

– – –

27.09.09

Despite waking up a little late after the night out, I wanted to take the bike for a ride east.  The weather forecast for the days ahead was looking solid  – sunny and warm.  First up was a huge new statue of Genghis Khan sitting astride his horse, about 50km east of UB.  I also wanted to make a little personal pilgrimmage to the site of Avarga, Genghis Khan’s capital.  There has been some Japanese sponsored archaeological works going on there and there is supposed to be another Genghis statue there overlooking his former home base.

Another thing that has changed dramatically in the past 15 years was the state of the roads.  Roads were now asphalt whereas earlier they were not even graded, just wheel tracks across the plains. The last 60 km to Avarga (via Delgerhaan) was finally the type of Mongolian roads I had come to Mongolia for – slightly sandy wheel ruts across the steppe.

The Avarga site was pretty much deserted but for a family living in a couple of gers looking after the tiny museum there.  The Genghis Khan statue was actually a monument rather than a statue.  It was a marble obelisk with a lifesized Genghis carved into it.  It was simple, yet I found something eerie about the lifesized Genghis.  I paid my tributes to the great man and crossed the river to head back.  There was a small spring on the otherside of the seemingly abandoned archeaological site. I believe this is a spring that Genghis’s son and successor Ogedei turned to whenever he was ill.

I got back on the bike and took a different track back to the main east road.  It was another fun 70km over the Mongolian plains.  This ride out over the plains convinced me that with the weather remaining sunny, temperatures warming up and myself and the bike in good form that I should try and get across the mountains in the west of the country.  If the weather holds out – no more snow – it will be possible!

– – –

28.09.09

Tiff introduced me to another British biker in town  – Nathan from Nottingham.  Nathan was waiting for his passport / Russian visa in a hotel just round the corner from us.  He was riding a DR350 and had ridden 2-up across Mongolia (almost a month earlier) from the west to UB.  I was inspired.  If Nathan can take two people plus luggage across Mongolia on a 350cc air cooled bike, then I had no excuses for not going, regardless of how cold it was going to be.

Nathan and I went out for a 4 hour off-road motorcycle goon around in the hills south of UB in the afternoon.  Charging up valleys and over hills, thru forests.  Its amazing how much fantastic off road riding terrain there is just 15 – 20 km from the centre of downtown UB.  Nathan was smart enough to bring a camera and got some great snaps.  So credit to Nathan for these puppies.  His blog is at http://nath-in-russia.blogspot.com/

It was Ben’s 23rd birthday so the evening was a series of linked pissups, organised by the everthoughtful Tiff (cake and candles, cards etc).  UB had degenerated into a big pissup session.

– – –

29.09.09

It was time to leave UB.  I had 4 days there.  It was now at least 10 degrees warmer than when I first rode into town.  After another smashing “Breakfast at Tiffanys” …more bacon and eggs … I packed my bags and left UB about 11am.  I said farewell to Tiff and Ben – we had been good mates for the last 4 days – and hit the crowded chaotic road out of UB.  Nathan was also hoping to leave today and I thought there was a chance I would see him on the road out of town before he turned North towards the Altanbulag border, but I didnt see him.

I continued west on an immaculate wide asphalt road that started to lose its immaculateness after 30km or so.  Lunch was at Lun.  Afternoon tea would be at Kharkhorin (Karakorum), the capital of Ogedei and Monkhe Khan – Genghis’ successors.  Just outside Lun I bumped into an Italian on Africa Twin headed for UB.  We swapped notes and I pushed on.

I had seen several hundred eagles by the roadside, standing sentinal in the last hour or two before Kharkhorin, and had narrowly missed a few as they took off, startled by my obscenely load exhaust.  One eagle had obviously not been so lucky.  I guess he had taken off into a truck or van and was lying by the roadside.  I got off the bike to look.  It was very recent.  Blood still was flowing from the beak but the majestic bird was dead.  It was a young eagle I guess, much smaller than most of the eagles I had seen today, and in the distance, 50 metres down the road two larger eagles were watching me as I picked up the dead bird and looked it over.  They really are a beautifully  crafted animal.

At Kharkhorin I was pushing myself for more miles to be done.  This recent warm weather may not last.  I had another hour and a half of the daylight left (daylight that shrinks more and more every day).  I wanted to get to Tsetserleg.  My mother had been there just a year ago and left me some contacts.

I made Tsetserleg just before dark and checked into the Fairfield guesthouse. It was very civilised.  Warm showers and proper coffee.  I didnt expect that in rural Mongolia.  Just down the road was speedy internet.

– – –

30.09.09

I had gotten so accustomed to bacon and eggs for breakfast in UB, and was so sure I wouldnt get it in the next few weeks that I ordered bacon and eggs from the western menu at the Fairfield and set off soon after 10.  Tsetserleg had been the effective end of the paved road – or road being paved.

I wanted to get to Tosontsengel today.  It would be a challenge … 360 km on Mongolian tracks and daylight that ends soon after 6pm.  By 2pm I was at White Lake and soon after I overtook what appeared to be a local on an overloaded bike … but something caught my eye as being not right … I think it was his riding trousers. So I stopped and met a crazy Germany guy riding a Chinese 150cc chopper he had bought in the Black Market in UB for USD  650.  Lukas was a paraglider, and having been in Mongolia for a month hiring vans and drivers to take him to remote corners of the country to paraglide down from, he decided the better solution is to just take a bike.  His paragliding rig looked big but weighed only 7kgs.

We went for lunch in the nearest town, Tsagaannuur, and talked for a couple of hours about paragliding, motorcycles, banking, and possible roads to Uliastay.  I could have ridden with him for a couple of days as we were going in the same direction, but I was riding over twice as fast as his little bike would go.  It had taken him 4 riding days to get from UB to where I had gotten to in one and a half days.

When I realised it was 4pm we packed up at the cafeteria and hit the road.  I had to scoot … Tosontsengel was about 180km away and I had just over 2 hours of daylight left and a brief 30 mins off twilight.

Soon after leaving Lukas I crossed into Zavhaan, arguably the most scenic province in Mongolia.  The late afternoon sunlight added to the natural beauty of the place and I found myself stopping for photographs constantly.

I didnt know how the pics would turn out with the dodgy lens, but the vistas and the light was a combination that compelled me to try everything I possible could to squeeze acceptable shots out of the camera gear.

Stopping for fotos had put extra pressure on my drive to reach Tosontsengel. I took the last foto just as the last light was fading just 6km from town.  By the time I did that 6km, it had just become night.

My timing was perfect.

Irkutsk, Lake Baikal, Mongolia, Russia, Siberia, Sibirsky Extreme

Into Mongolia

4 Comments

14, 15, 16, 17.09.09

While the bike was being sorted, I had a few other things to sort out in Krasnoyarsk.  My camera lens needed to be cleaned and a scratch or two removed.  I also needed a new customs form … as my stay in Russia had been extended due to my burst up to Udachny and the Arctic Circle.  Arnaud decided to sell his bike in Krasnoyarsk rather than ride it back to Irkutsk, where he lives.  And so there was a fair bit of assorted running around.  We were also able to relax and enjoy proper steak and proper coffee for the first time in months.  Krasnoyarsk is really the last place in Siberia where you have a good chance to do that.  The city is much bigger tha Irkutsk, Khabarovsk or Vladivostok.

Early in the morning of the 16th, Arnaud took a train back to Irkutsk and I told him I will join him there in a few days, once my bike emerges from the mechanic’s.

2 days later I saddled up, said farewell to Dima and headed off in the direction of Irkutsk.  It was 2pm when I left Krasnoyarsk and rain had been forecast.  I dressed in all my warmest gear as the temperature was only about 5 degrees.  It seemed winter had arrived a few weeks earier than usual in Siberia.  It was cold, overcast and a road I had already done twice in the past 3 months.  I stopped only for fuel and for very good shashlik at Uyar.  I just put the head down and made it to Alzamai about 9pm.

By 6pm the following day (19th Sep) I was in Irkutsk, with Arnaud.  It was snowing and the last few hundred kilometres were wet and very cold. Snow was over the road in higher areas.  I had a few days to stop and reflect on this unseasonally rapid advance of winter while in Irkutsk, and decided that there really is not a huge amount of pleasure motorcycling in the freezing rain and snow.  If things didnt change for the better then I would be looking at a flight home in the next few weeks at the latest.

Reports I was receiving from Mongolia were that the weather there had changed from balmy and a sunny 20 degrees a few days ago to snow and closed passes now.  The winter had really arrived in a big way.

On the 22nd, Arnaud headed for his retreat on the shores of Lake Baikal and I headed for Ulan Ude, the capital of the Buryat Republic.  the Buryats, like the Kalmyks I met 5 months ago, are Mongolic.  Most of the asiatic peoples in Russia are Turkic based.  I spent a day in Ulan Ude.  The city has changed considerably since I rode thru here 15 years ago.  15 years back the main stop for me in Ulan Ude was to get a photograph next to the largest bust of Lenin in the world.  Naturally this time round I needed to return to the central square and update my photo collection of Lenin’s heads.

Sadly my camera is now less than fully functional, and as a result I have taking almost no pictures now.  The final element of the lens unscrewed itself thanks to vibrations, and ended up getting quite scratched.  Further, some spacer rings that position the element came off and I suspect I dont have the element positioned totally right.  It will be back to Nikon when I get back to the UK.  For now I can only get focus on wide angle and small aperture.

Heading to Mongolia, one of the most photogenic parts of my trip, without a fully functioning camera was depressing me.

I left Ulan Ude on the 24th of September, hoping to  make Ulaanbaatar for the evening.  It was about 600 km, and included a border crossing, my first for about 4 months.   Crossing the Russian border was simple and painless and over in about 45 minutes.  The Mongolia side was not so simple.  I had a typo on my visa such that it said validity was till November 2008.  This was a sticking point and the the Mongolian immigration guys were refusing to let me in.  Luck came along in the form of the head immigration guy, who had previously worked for an Australian mining company and happened to like Aussies.  he made a few phone calls back to head office in UB (Ulaanbaatar) and was able to issue me an all new visa there at the border in about 30 minutes.

By 5pm I was on the road again in Mongolia.  It struck me even at the border how things had changed.  A busy border post with computers, passport scanners etc was a million miles away from the Altanbulag border I had known 15 years ago.  The town of Altanbulag had been a semi abandoned wreck of a place then.  Now the roads were lined with banks, cafes and petrol stations.

I rode through Sukhbaatar township 25km down the road.  James and I had been holed up in this town for about a week on and off, and there had been nothing commercial there apart from the cafe (for want of a better word) at the Sukhbaatar Hotel.  Now it was a bustling town, with no fewer than 7 or 8 petrol stations. Almost unrecognisable from our border base of 15 years ago.

The road from Sukhbaatar to UB was even more different.  Mongolia was stunning me with how rapidly and completely it had changed.  The highway was littered with hotels, cafes, petrol stations.  The road was full of traffic and I was constantly overtaking trucks and cars.  In 1994 there had been no cafes, no petrol stations, no hotels and no other vehicles on the road.

But the biggest surprise of all was UB itself.  What had once been a quiet, sleepy town with again no traffic and just a state department store and one cafe for commercial premises was now a mini Bangkok.  Traffic jammed the streets.  Neon lights lit up the main road into town for miles, where there had previously just been quiet suburbs of gers (yurts).  Dozens and dozens of hotels, bars and restaurants lined the road into town.  I didnt recognise it at all.  The handful of old Volgas and Ladas that once ruled the roads here had been replaced with endless thousands of new Toyota Landcruisers and the like.  I headed for a guesthouse where Tiff Coates was holed up awaiting spare parts and arrived late in the evening.  With the weather now decidedly cold, we must be just about the last two idiots still on motorcycles in this part of the world.

BAM, Irkutsk, Lena River, Russia, Siberia, Sibirsky Extreme

Southward Bound

4 Comments

05.09.09

I slept in till almost midday in my Udachny hotel room.  I had thoughts of riding back to Mirny today, but it was a Saturday.  The few things I needed to do in Mirny needed to wait until Monday anyway, and I was still thinking about a potential ride out with the towns bad boys.  As it happens the bad boys didnt contact me until 5pm, and I had just jet washed the bike (thanks to the mining company guys) and refilled it with fuel, thinking they wouldnt call.  In any case, the lads didnt actually know what lay beyond the river crossing, and their bikes didn’t look like they stood a good chance of going very far.

– – –

06.09.09

I had packed the night before and decided to leave early.  I could have waited round until 11:30 when the cafe opened and had a cup of tea and stocked up on some food, but instead hit the road about 8:45am

It was terribly cold, probably about -3 degrees.  Light snow had fallen overnight, the second snow of the season.  The previous night had seen the first snow but it hadnt stuck.  Even with all the gear on including my heated vest and gloves I was struggling with the cold and reduced speed to 75km/h for the first hour to help deal with it.

After a completely uneventful morning I reached Chernyshevsky 430 km and 5 hours later, stopping there to refuel and to get something to eat and drink.  I continued on to Mirny, arriving soon after 3pm.  When I turned on my phone, a SMS arrived from Arnaud, saying he was making good progress on the Vilyuisky Trakt and should arrive in Mirny tonight.  I called Ilya, the biker I knew in Mirny and he was fixing his Africa Twin with the town’s moto-cross guys.  I went round there and did a couple of laps of the moto-cross track myself on the XC, before letting a proper motocross rider have a go on my bike.

About 6pm I got a phone call from Arnaud.  He had just arrived in Mirny.  I told him to meet Ilya and myself in Lenin Square.  Five minutes later and we were all there.  Arnaud had a contact in Mirny who had a place where we could stay for free, so we waited for the contact to show up and take to our very humble lodgings, before heading out for a dinner of Shashlik and beer before retiring.

– – –

07.09.09

9am and Arnaud woke me up in my freezing unheated room with news that he had just been told there was a boat leaving Lensk at 12:00.  We had been worried about when we might get the next boat so this was a boat we needed to try and take.  They would hold the boat until 12:30 for us.  It was a 3 hour ride.  We had 30 minutes to wake up, pack and leave Mirny.

I didnt so much pack as throw all my gear into my bags.  I still had stuff at Andrei’s garage and Andrei doesnt usually start until 10am, but I called him and asked him to rush down and open his garage for me.  He did.

Arnaud and I sped full throttle down to Lensk, slowing only for the mud created by recent rain, and roadworks.  We headed directly for where the boat had dropped me off 5 days earlier, and the same boat was waiting.  Luggage was stripped off and our bikes shoved up the nose of the boat to rest on the front deck.

From here it was a 5 day boat ride upstream to Ust Kut, on a twin engined boat that had only one engine working.

– – –

07, 08, 09, 10, 11.09.09

Arnaud was the French guy who had stopped Tony in the streets of Vladivostok after recognising him as one of the Sibirsky Extreme guys.  He had been after road condition information on the Road of Bones, as he was about to board a boat to Magadan.  I had kept in touch with Arnaud, and a few weeks later (when he was relaxing in Yakutsk) we chatted about the BAM road and Vilyuisky Trakt, and which would be better to get him back to Irkutsk.  As my experience of the BAM road unfolded, and with Arnaud travelling solo, it became clear that the only choice was the Vilyuisky Trakt.

Arnaud took the recommended road and was greeted at every ferry,and almost every cafe and fuel stop with “Guess what?! We had two English guys come thru here a few months ago also on motorcycles”.

Arnaud is fluent in Russian and reported to me when we met in Mirny that not only were the two English guys famous on the Vilyuisky Trakt, but Tony and I had made a positive impression everywhere.  That is something that money cant buy, an inner satisfaction.  These people had been very good to us (apart from one river crossing truck driver) and it was satisfying to hear we had left a positive impression with the Yakuts of the Vilyui valley, as indeed they had with us.

Arnaud has been in Siberia for 15 years, running his own tour firm on Lake Baikal, organising movie sets in Yakutia etc, even running motorcycle tours around the Baikal region.  He is riding one of his left over tour bikes, a TTR 250.  It’s proved a little underpowered for the more open sections of road, and he said he was full throttle for the whole road to Lensk.

As the boat sailed into the first night, we began talking about some of the expressions of interest I have had in the Sibirsky Extreme Project.  Arnaud, with his years of running tours and logistics in Siberia felt there was be a good opportunity to put together a one-off organised motorcycle trip from Magadan to Lake Baikal next year, led by the two of us.

The following days were spent refining the concept. The more we thought and talked about it, the more the idea made sense.  So few people ever make it to Magadan on a bike, or get to do the Road of Bones, yet many dream of it.  The logistical and language barriers are the primary reasons.  Its a hell of a long way away, its very hard to get to, and nobody there speaks English.  As for the Vilyuisky Trakt into the attractive heart of Yakutia, its virgin territory for foreigners, let alone motorcyclists.  Lake Baikal is a logical, beautiful place to finish and really is Arnaud’s speciality … he knows that region like the back of his hand.

Look for a link on the website in the weeks ahead. It could only ever be a small group, 5-8 people, over 4 weeks. If anyone is interested, drop me a line thru the blog and we will send out more detailed information as we put it together.  If we get enough expressions of interest, we will have a serious ride on next summer, Magadan – Baikal.

– – –

12.09.09

Arnaud and I had arrived back in Ust Kut around 10pm last night and arranged to stay on board the boat for one more night.  The plan was to leave first thing in the morning. We pushed the bikes off the boat and locked them together next to the boat, set the alarm for 05:30 ! and tried to sleep.  Sleeping was near impossible onthe boat, without the drone of the engine in the background and it was an evening of tossing and turning and restlessness.

5:30 came and despite both wanting to sleep in, we headed down to the galley, where the cook from the boat had also woken up early to cook breakfast for us.  With full stomachs, we loaded up the bikes and were ready to go by 6:30, only it was still pitch black.  I consulted my phone … daylight comes to Ust Kut at 7:20 am on this day of the year.  And so we went back to our cabin and had 45 minutes snooze before finally hitting the road about 7:15.

It was cold and foggy and I had dressed in my heated vest. Arnaud on his little 250 had no such luxury.  He just had to endure the cold.  Bratsk was 350km away, mostly over dirt roads, but the roads were decent and we made it to the sprawling spread out city of Bratsk around lunchtime.  The Hydroelectric dam at Bratsk is supposed to be one of the largest in the world, and it certainly was huge.  I have never seen one bigger.

I noticed my front end didnt feel right.  Tony P has a credo that if something doesnt feel or sound right, its because something isnt right, and you need to stop and sort it out. I knew something wasnt right but just felt like I wanted to get to Krasnoyarsk where the bike would get a full going over by Zhenya and his team of bike mechanics.

Bratsk is spread out over about 50 km and while riding through Bratsk the unease in the front end of the bike felt progressively worse.  We stopped and chatted to some Police guys about the road to Taishet, the last 300km of the BAM road.  They said if we want to go to Krasnoyarsk from Bratsk, we needed to go on the asphalt road to Tulun and then the Trans Siberian Highway to Krasnoyarsk.  With my front end clearly sick, I decided not to argue.  It was a longer route, but a safer one with a sick bike.

80 km outside of Bratsk and I was kicking myself for not listening to Tony’s credo.  I had seen grease oozing past the right front wheel bearing seal when we had stopped in Bratsk and strongly suspected that bearing was on the way out.  I had been obsessed with getting to Krasnoyarsk and should have stopped in Bratsk to see what could be done about the bearing.  Now I was out on the empty road and the bearing was dead.  It was cold but at least it had temporarily stopped raining.  There was nothing for it but to get sore and greasy and sort the problem.

Arnaud rode 500 yards ahead where a truck was parked on the side of the road and borrowed a hammer. I jacked up the bike with a stick and removed the front wheel. I started whacking out the old bearing with the hammer and a screwdriver.  Predictably it crumbled and I was left with the problem of trying to remove the outer housing of the old bearing.  After 20 minutes and a lot of sore thumbs, I had removed the old bearing completely and searched around in my spare pars bag for new bearings.

5½ months on the road and a lot of water in the side bags had left my spare bearings in poor shape.  All my spare parts were covered in sand and rust.  I had no option by to clean up one of the bearings as best I could and use it.  The truck drivers up the road began to move off and Arnaud went to offer them the hammer back.  They said we needed it more th