The morning after the 3 days before didnt really stand a chance.  In fact we didnt wake up till 3pm.  We just made it down to Andrei’s workshop in downtown Mirny before dinner time to check out the state of the bikes after our 3 days of struggle.

It was immediately apparent that the mud had taken a severe toll.  The texture of the mud was such that it wasnt a slimy clay like mud, but it was a sandy gritty mud.  The road wasnt as slippery as it could have been but the grit had eaten away at anything that moved on the bike, over the 1300 km I had covered in the past 3 days.

My back brake pads, which were brand new in Irkutsk and still 75% when I left Mirny to head North, were quite literally down to Zero.  In total 4 long muddy days, one on the Zhigalovo Road and three on the Anabar Road, had each chewed away a quarter of the pads each day.  It wasnt me, nor the bike, nor the compound, as Tony, riding a different bike, and different brake compound found his back pads whittled away to nothing by the time we had reached Udachny, and rode back to Mirny without even touching his rear brake.

The sprockets were looking beat.  I had no discernable wear at all on my steel rear sprocket for the entire trip, save the last 3 days, now wear was most definately discernable.  The front sprocket, as you would expect, was worse.

The centreline of the underside of the bike had been thoroughly sandblasted and Tony’s rear tyre, fitted in Novosibirsk was now toast. It was a knobbly, with tread down to a few millimetres – and sure you could get another 3-4 thousand kilometres out of it – if you were riding on dry asphalt roads, but in wet mud, you need traction.  And a knobbly worn to the point of approaching a road tyre is dangerous on the endless dirt and mud roads we were riding.  Fortunately, Tony had scored Leon’s rear tyre in Irkutsk, and now was as good a time as any to stop carrying it, and fit it.  Tony’s dodgy tube repairs were fixed, with Andrei removing every single patch and refixing them to him far more exacting standards.

Two electricians were called to examine my flat battery problem.  They compounded the problem by opening the engine housing that stored the generator, ignorant of the fact that the generator spins in oil – losing half my engine oil over Andrei’s floor.  Obviously there was no Motul fully synthetic motorcycle oil in Mirny (there are only 5 western / japanese bikes), so I had to go with fully mineral oil and do a full oil and filter change while we were at it.  After making a hell of a lot of mess and doing a dodgy repair on my gasket that they broke, they decided that my battery was rogered and went home.

Unsurprisingly, I couldnt find a battery to fit the space on the BMW, so I bought the only other 12V motorcyle battery for sale in Mirny.  Andrei made a temporary tray for it and we mounted it at the back of the bike, with cables running to the old battery box.

While this was happening, the most urgent task, new brake pads, was being undertaken by a contact of Andrei’s.  The new pads were being fabricated from some car brake pads, being cut to shape and then the metal and the pads being ground down to match the thickness of the originals.  This was the most time consuming task as the guy doing the pads was very busy with other jobs.  Tony and I set us ourselves up to wait a while in Mirny and relax for a few days.

Late on Wednesday, 8th July, we saw the weather begin to change, the sun came out and it warmed up.  We celebrated by having a big night of shashlik and banya (sauna) at Andrei’s dacha, just outside Mirny.  This was no small banya session  of 10 minutes or so but was a constant rotating process of barbequed food, beer and banya for about 4 hours with Ilya, Andrei and a few other folks who dropped in from time to time.

We had hoped the pads would be ready on Thursday and we could hit the road, but it was not to be.  But that did give me the chance to upload a whole bunch of photos and update the blog with pics going back 4 posts … all the way to Krasnoyarsk.  The weather had now completely changed from the earlier 8-9 degrees and rain, to +25 and totally sunny. We yearned to be back on the road.  In the evening we met up with some of Ilya’s biking friends … there are 5-6 bikers now in Mirny.

Just after 4pm on Friday, 10th July, the pads were ready and I fitted a set to my bike.  Tony refitted a pair he had changed  earlier and kept as a spare.  As long as the roads were dry, they would get us to Magadan.  By 6pm we were packed and ready to roll.  Ilya and his girlfriend Masha rode with us for 20km to the village of Novy, near Almazny and the first river crossing.  On the way we stopped for fuel.  My bike wouldnt restart.  Flat  battery.  The brand new battery.  Maybe it hadnt recharged enough yet, since it had only been installed 3 kilometres ago.  We jump started the bike (we now have starter cables, home made, to speed up the process) and continued on.

The Vilyuisky Trakt (the Vilyui Track) runs from Mirny, 1200 km east to Yakutsk, approximately following the Vilyui River and the towns and villages along it for much of the way.  Four times the track crosses the Vilyui itself, each crossing served by ferries.  Andrei had driven the full road last year and had briefed us pretty thoroughly on the road conditions.  In general the road would be no problem, if the weather was dry.  There were however, two question marks, and both were in the first 150 km from Mirny.  Two river crossings of tributaries of the Vilyui, not served by ferries (obviously no bridges), and the first was at Novy, just south of the town of Almazny.

We pulled up to the river bank and saw the answer to our problems, at least for this river crossing.  A couple of local heavy vehicle operators ferried cars across on the back of heavy duty russian trucks for 1000 rubles (25 eur) each.  Nothing is cheap in Yakutia, especially around the Mirny diamond region.  Our accomodation was about EUR 80 a night for the whole time we were in the region, the ‘manufactured’ brake pads came out at 40 EUR a set and now river crossings would hit the budget hard.  One of the drivers, Alyosha, decided to take us over for free and we saddled up.

But not so fast.  My bike wouldnt start again.  I was in favour of jump starting it and continuing on, but Tony’s calmer head was concerned about a less than fully operational bike if we break down in the middle of nowhere on the Vilyuisky Trakt.  One guy (another Andrei) who had been hanging around spoke pretty good english and told us to take the bike up to the village, 100 yards away and he would look at it.  I was sceptical as this was the middle of nowhere and the village was maybe 10 houses, but went along with it.

Andrei produced a multimeter and diagnosed a faulty cable … the positive cable carrying charge to/from the battery to the old terminals was wrapped in steel and this was removed to Andrei and his multimeters satisfaction.  But he continued testing and found more resistance that shouldnt be there in the starter relay.  This guy was doing the work the professional auto electricians should have done after they diagnosed the dead battery 3 days earlier … they should have bothered to find out why it was dead.  After more testing it was deemed to be the electricals inside the starter itself that was the problem.  There would be nothing for it but to remove the starter and look inside.

Open heart motorcycle surgery took place out in the open, in front of an old shed in the 10 person village of MUAD, near Novy, near Almazny, near Mirny.  It was, as far as I could tell, not a BMW-Motorrad approved service centre.  We caught the oil that came out of the engine to re-use and Andrei didnt like the broken reused gasket used by  the electricians earlier.  He decided to make a new one from gasket material. The starter came out, eventually and was opened.  It was full of metal particles.  Andrei felt this was from the starter running while the engine was running.

The starter hadnt worked as it should for some time.  And thinking back it was Ridder (Leninogorsk) in northern Kazakhstan that had been the start of it.  I had lent the bike to my host, Sasha, for a ride and remember hearing the starter running while he rode off.  The starter had felt weak ever since then.

The starter was cleaned and the bike re-assembled, saved oil poured back into the engine. It was 10pm by the time all this was finished and Andrei, who tuned out to be an engineer with the local oil firm in Mirny, just visiting friends in Novy for the day, offered to take us back to Mirny for the evening.  We parked the bikes in his friend Alyosha’s garage and went back to Mirny for the night, but not before Alyosha and his wife gave us all dinner … and samogon! (home brewed ultra strong booze).

– – –

11.06.09

Andrei cooked us breakfast before we all drove the 15 minutes back to the bikes and the river crossing.  My bike fired up first time, which inspired confidence and the Yakut driver of the Ural truck ferried us across the river after we had said farewell to Andrei and Alyosha.

After he turned back across the river I tried to start the bike and nothing.  The battery had died again.  Maybe it hadnt charged enough since fixing the electrical leaks since yesterday.  We jump started it and I took it for a ten minute ride.  The bike started by itself soon after the engine had been switched off, but leave it 5 minutes and it wouldnt.  Either that battery wasnt holding the charge or there was still a source of electrical leakage.

We waited for the 6WD ferry truck to return to our side of the river and got on to take my bike back to Alyosha and Andrei on the other side.  More electrical diagnostic gear came out, and the verdict was the new battery was dead. Killed by the strain of all yesterdays drainage.  The only realistic solution was to continue down the road, jump starting when necessary.  We had the cables and my battery was now externally mounted.

Alyosha drove us back across the river and we rigged up Tony’s bike so it too had quick access to his positive terminal – under his seat.  As long as my engine was running, it would be ok.  When it stopped, it would be a 2 minute job to jump start it.  It would do till we got to Khabarovsk.

Finally we were back underway on the Viluisky Trakt.  The next 70km would be the stretch between the river crossings.  This stretch was messy, the road bed having been churned up into a mudbed in the  recent rains and now much of it had set in the shape of awkward deep tyre tracks.  It was dry, and mostly fine, but sometimes there were deep tyre grooves that had set like concrete.  I was glad we werent doing this stretch in the wet.

After an hour or so we reached the second river crossing, the Vilyuchanka, a tributary of the Vilyui.  The Russians have built a bridge here, but have not got around to building the approaches.  Here too there was a large green Ural truck and an earthen loading dock.  We approached the driver, in his hut 100 yards away, but he said the river was shallow enough to ford if we took the right path.

I went back to the river and walked it.  Sure enough, I found the best route across the river and indeed it was shallow enough.  We plunged in and across, and continued on our way towards Krestyakh and Suntar.  At Krestyakh we hit the Vilyui itself, for the first time since Chernyshevsky 220 km back.  This crossing had thhe potential to be time consuming I had been told that the ferry runs only when the ferryman has a full load.  The ferry was based on the other side of the river and I had heard its not rare to wait 5 hours for a ferry, even  overnight is entirely possible.

We set up for a long wait when a young local Yakut lad driving a small chinese tractor pulled up next to us.  He was drunk, stank of Vodka and wanted to chat.  We needed to replace a missing nut on Tony’s bike.

We had not seen many Yakuts so far in Yakutia.  The mining towns of Udachny, Aikhal, Mirny and the service town of Lensk had been mostly Russian, but the Vilyuisky Trakt towns would be mostly Yakutian.  I had also been warned about alcoholism among the Yakuts.  The warnings had not been as strong as they had prior to visiting Tuva, but they were there none the less.

The next Yakut we met was the driver of the ferry, about 45 minutes later.  In pleasant contrast he was sober, and refused payment; a foto in lieu.  So two different views of Yakuts in the first ferry crossing of the Vilyui.  We were the centre of attraction on the ferry, which had taken on a bus load of 10 people packed into a small Ural 4WD van (staple vehicle of these parts – tough reliable and inexpensive).  At one point we had half a dozen camera phones pointed at us.

By 6pm we had reached Suntar, where we refuelled the bikes and ourselves and sorted Tony’s nut problem.  We pushed on towards Nyurba, where we would spend the night.  Apart from the first 120 km, to Krestyakh, the Vilyuisky Trakt was much much easier going than the wet Anabar Road.  It was more lush, broken by villages evey 30 km or so, populated, and really pretty scenery that reminded me of Finland and reminded Tony of Estonia.  Lakes, pine forest, grass, cattle.  It felt a lot more familiar than the remote Anabar Road.

The roads were increasingly gravelly and our back ends were wobbling around more than Oprah Winfrey having a  jog along the beach.  Speed was reduced to 80 km/h.

One of the river crossings featured a floating bridge halfway across the river.  I hadnt seen that before … you drive half way across the river , the shallow part, and then up onto the floating bridge to cross the deep part. I went first and reported back to Tony that the steel ramp up to the bridge mid river is very steep and when combined with wet rubber is very very slippery.  He would need to hit the ramp much faster than me to make it comfortably.  My back wheel had been spinning like a top trying to get up there but made it safely in the end.

Tony, exercising caution, crossed the unbridged section and approached the ramp slowly.  I was concerned.  He hadnt left himself enough room to get any speed or momentum for the ramp. Sure enough, when he pulled the trigger and tried to tackle the ramp, he went down … falling into the river.  Locals were on hand to help right the bike and get it up onto the floating bridge.

We stopped in Nyurba, now having crossed the Vilyui twice more by ferry, refuelled the bikes and pulled into a cafe on the northern edge of town.  It was run by a Buryat lady and her daughter who had moved up here some years ago from the Baikal region.  Not happy with feeding us what we ordered, she added a couple of extra piroshki as well, saying we looked hungry.

As we prepared to leave (by now around 11pm), she asked where we will stay the night.  I said we didnt know, probably pitch our tent somewhere down the road.  She offered us a place in her yard to pitch the tent.  We accepted.  While about to pitch, she had another idea.  An extra room in the building that was about to become a shop when the renovation is finished in a few weeks, was swept and we had a place to roll out the sleeping bags and charge phones indoors.

– – –

12.07.09

Sunday began around 9:30 when we woke up at the cafe in Nyurba.  The day began naturally enough with breakfast.  We didnt have far to go … the next room was the cafe.

We took our time getting ready.  Tony  had a lot of gear to try to dry out after his little swim yesterday, and I needed to deal with my non working battery, which apart from not working was also spewing battery acid over my luggage, fuel tank and rear tyre.

By the time we had done all that needed to be done, spoke to several dozen guests of the cafe and done some filming with the family that ran it, it was midday.  Our final act was to present them with the highest award possible  …  the Sibirsky Extreme Star of Lenin sticker (actually its only award we have to give).  Ira, the lady who ran the cafe, accepted it with glee, waving wildly as we rode off.

Reasonably good progress was made after our 12:30pm departure.  The only pause in our charge towards Yakutsk being for the ferry across the Markha river.  The second ferry of the day came up at 2.45pm, the final crossing of the Vilyui River at VerkhneVilyuisk.  It had grown … by now it was about a kilometre across.  The only problem for us (and about 9 other vehicles) was that the barge had closed up shop for lunch.  We waited and waited and  finally at 16:00 they fired up the barge engine, took down the chain across the bow and began loading.

Having beached the boat hard for their lunch break, and then loading up to the max with 9 vehicles, the barge was now stuck fast on the sand and wouldnt budge.  A few vehicles had to go off, before the barge could free itself, before reloading the vehicles.

Most of the vehicles in these parts (as in other remote parts of  Russia) are the cool UAZ 4WD vans (sometimes referred to as a UAZik (‘wazzik’ or ‘khleboboulka’ – loaf of bread).  They look like a jacked up, slightly oversized VW combi van, and they seem to seat 10 people, acting as local buses in the remote regions.  They come in one colour only – light grey matt that looks like undercoat – tho some owners have painted thir vans blue or dark green.  When you see them, they appear goofy and ungainly, but the more you see of them on the remote difficult roads, the more you respect them.  I have grown to love the UAZiks.  They have been my main companions on this trip through the dirt roads in Tajikistan, Tuva, and now far north Siberia as well.

Finally, after a 2 hour wait and crossing of the Vilyui, we were underway again.  Betweek VerkhneVilyuisk and Vilyuisk itself the road became increasingly sandy.  By the time we got to 40 km from Vilyuisk, the sand layer had grown from 1-2 cm to 10-15 cm, and the closer we got to Vilyuisk the deeper it got.  By 10km from Vilyuisk it was all sand, 20cm deep and pure sand technique riding.  Tony didnt like standing up and I had to leave him to struggle through the last 8 km by himself.  It was too deep to stop, and slowing down in deep sand only make starting near impossible.  As long as I kept my bike in second or third gear and my hand on the throttle, I would be OK.

I got to the edge of Vilyuisk and waited for Tony.  We were both in mobile phone coverage now and if there was any problems he could call.  Many vehicles were heading the other way and again, if he went down there would be UAZik drivers aplenty to pick him up.  Going back on my non starting motorcycle was something I was reluctant to do when there were so many other options available.  I helped pass the time by checking emails, and stickering up the Vilyuisk town sign.

After a good 45 minutes I gave Tony a call.  He had been down in the sand twice but picked up straight away by passing motorists.  He was now about 4km from town.  I decided to zoom out there to check progress and to try and show him the best line.  I found him chatting to a passing motorist.  I turned the bike around and we headed in for the final few kilometres into Vilyuisk.  Tony had gone into ‘just get it out of the way’ mode and was intent on crawling along with both feet down.

Finally we were both in Vilyuisk and pulled over into the first petrol station.  The decision was unanimous.  It was hot, we were tired and needed a cold drink.  The thought of an airconditioned pub made me drool, but there would be no such luxury here.  Tony set off before me to stop at the first shop, and I didnt set off at all.  After a day in which the bike started every time by itself, it was ironic that the first time today Tony set off first, my bike didnt start.  He would soon be back I figured.

Half an hour passed and he wasnt back.  I called, but he didnt pick up.  I texted to say I was stuck at the fuel station (Tony had our jumper leads so I couldnt ask any other passing motorists for a jump start).  Finally I got a text back from Tony.  He had fallen again, found a shop, bought a cold drink and was heading back to jump start my bike.  Meanwhile, I had been inspecting todays damage from the battery acid.  Assorted plastic bits were sticky and distorted, some of the webbing straps holding my side bags had been eaten away.  I had to get rid of this cursed battery.  It barely worked and was eating away my bike.  I decided that as soon as I can get to Yakutsk I will get a sealed bike battery – any sealed bike battery.  If its a bad size, I will definately be able to get a better one in Khabarovsk, first stop after Magadan – but I needed something new ASAP.

Tony arrived and we drank the cool refreshing Fanta, before firing up my bike. Tony’s report was that the shop was full of drunks, with the sober ladies that ran it yelling at the drunk male customers.  Hmmmm … that sounded a bit Tuva-esque.  We headed thru town, looking for somewhere where we could stop and relax.  Including the flat battery at the fuel station, and the 2 hour ferry crossing, the last 85 km had taken us 5 hours. It was now 8pm.  Sadly we found no open cafe’s in Vilyuisk.  All the cafe’s were closed.  We decided to power onwards.

To Tony’s considerable relief, the sandy conditions appeared to end with Vilyuisk.  The other side of town was instead the worst corrugations of the road so far.  This went on for the first 30 km or so on the eastern side of Vilyuisk.  There were sandy patches, but only 5-10 cm deep, and these were no problem.

Around 10pm we stopped to refuel at the town of Khampa, and I noticed a cafe that was open (and popular) 100 yards away.  I went down to investigate, and while Tony filled up with fuel, I placed our dinner order.  We were soon the toast of the cafe, with all the customers rushing outside to take fotos by the bikes.  The staff followed and again the lady of the house suggested we stay for the evening by pitching a tent behind the 24 hr petrol station and cafe.  She added that the meal would be free.  We were being spoiled.  I had hoped to rack up another 100km before dark, but it was impossible to turn down hospitality like this.  We decided to stay the night in Khampa.  We had done less than 300 km today, but it had been a long, long, hot day

Once dinner was done (which took quite some time – there were many photo-calls), the tents came out and a barrel of water was placed at our disposal for washing.  By midnight we were both in our respective tents, Tony snoozing away and me editing fotos before drifting off to sleep.

– – –

13.07.09

With over 500 km to Yakutsk, I woke Tony early, at 8am.  We ate breakfast in the cafe and again they said there was no charge, but we insisted on paying. I did some writing before we packed up the gear and hit the road around 10am.  We were full of fuel, full of food and I was determined to make Yakutsk today.  But the guy who ran the fuel station said no.  ‘The roads are very bad.  It will be tomorrow, or at best after midnight tonight.’

‘Lets see these very bad roads and then decide’ I thought to myself as we headed off down the road.  We made good progress on the dusty roads, stopping at Ilbenge for a bite to eat and a drink after the first 2 hours, and the same again at Asima a couple of hours later again.  At Asima we tightened Tony’s chain a touch.  It had slipped forward.  We had made good progress, having about 300 km of the 500+ we had to do.  I was now confident of making Yakutsk tonight, but had no way of texting our contact in Yakutsk, as since Viluisk (6pm yesterday), there had been no mobile phone reception.

We stopped for fuel in Berdigestyakh, now just 180 km from Yakutsk.  We saw the first asphalt since leaving Mirny 1000 km ago, but it was just in the streets of the town.  As we left town it was back to the dusty track.  Its been over 3000 km since we last saw asphalt highway, the road between Irkutsk and Kachug.

Traffic was now much heavier between Berdigestyakh and Yakutsk and our faces got increasingly dusty with all the overtaking and passing.  I notched up the 25,000th km of the trip so far.  In this stretch it was clear Tony’s and my riding speeds were considerably different.  Tony was not comfortable in the loose gravel and sand, and while the road bed was good, most of the way from Berdigestyakh to Yakutsk also had a layer of gravel and sand several inches deep over it.

In the more challenging road conditions, such as sand or gravel, its important for everyone to ride at their natural speed.  For me riding more slowly was not an option.  I feel more stable at speed.  Going slow in sand or gravel feels dangerous and unstable.  Tony was the opposite.  We had to ride at different speeds and we would be riding alone for long parts of the afternoon.

It was hot (over 30 degrees today), and the large biting horse flies swarmed as soon as I stopped, so I really didnt want to stop.  Every 50 km or so, I would find a shady tree and wait to see Tony.  I was waiting 15-20 minutes each time.  I could not turn the bike off for fear it wouldnt start again and so the poor bike had its fan running continuously when stopped.  It took around 3.5 hours to get the 185 km from Berdigestyakh to Yakutsk and over an hour of that for me was waiting time.

By the time I reached asphalt on the edge of Yakutsk I was hot and frustrated.  I stopped to wait for Tony and finally get to send off some SMSs to Bolot, a local journalist who had been following our adventure since reading of it on the web some months ago.  Bolot was all ready to receive us and had arranged accomodation in a friends house, bike storage, etc etc.  My frustration eased as the thought of relaxing with a cold beer became more and more real.

Tony arrived and we cruised into Yakutsk, headed for the central square, our meeting point for Bolot, Artyom (who would host us) and Rayil (who would host our bikes).  Yakutsk was a feast for the eyes.  Modern glass buildings, good sealed roads, well dressed people … it was like we had ridden into a different world from the one we had become familiar with since leaving Irkutsk two and a half weeks ago.

We reached Ploschad Ordzhonokidze, the centre of Yakutsk and the starting point of all Yakutian road distances.  In doing that we had indeed become the first riders to ride the Vilyuisky Trakt, from Mirny to Yakutsk … 1200 km and 3 long days of riding.  Everywhere we had stopped en route, the cafes, the fuel stations everyone we met had never seen anything like us before.

We found our guys and immediately took the bikes round to Rayil’s garage, just a few hundred yards from the main square.  Rayil was the head of the local 4WD club, and also had a Yamaha 250 enduro bike.  As soon as we dismounted, cold beers were offered, and as we slapped the dust off ourselves with one hand, we grabbed the beers with the other.  That first sip of cold beer after 3 hot dusty days was an instant slice of paradise.

Rayil and Artyom took us back to Artyom’s apartment, also very centrally located, where the priority was the shower.  Once clean we sat up talking about the Vilyuisky Trakt that we had done and the road ahead, the Kolyma Highway (Road of Bones) to Magadan with Artyom (also a 4WDer) and Rayil.

I had known Rayil had been involved in the Long Way Round project 5 years ago, but what I didnt know was how much.  As we chatted, it became apparent that he was absolutely crucial to the Road of Bones stage.  Rayil had not just helped tham plan the route, he had actually accompanied them all the way to Magadan.  The big Ural trucks that ferried the LWR guys across the rivers didnt just come along when required, they were all arranged and contracted by Rayil.  It was all staged.  And yet there was no mention of Rayil or thanks for making it all happen.

– – –

This is hardly the first time I have met someone first hand with a similar story helping out the LWR project.  My good friends Austin and Gerald Vince dont really like to talk about too much, but they were consulted extensively prior to the LWR trip, on everything from what route is possible (so they knew every step of the way there was a route – all of the staring into the camera lens and saying ‘we dont even know if there IS a road’ stuff is disingenuous to say the least), to riding, eating, filming etc.  When in trouble in Mongolia, extensive after-midnight phone calls were made back to the Brothers Vince along the lines of ‘what do we do now?’.  Despite all of this, not a single mention was made of Terra Circa (the template for LWR – London to New York via Magadan) or Mondo Enduro, or the Brothers Vince.

I have always been extremely grateful for the fantastic publicity LWR has brought to adventure biking.  People get the idea now, whereas 5 years ago, even long-time bikers didnt get the idea of riding round the world.  It had been a very small circle of enthusiasts who liked adventure, travel and motorcycles all at the same time, but has since grown exponentially, thanks to LWR.  But its important to bear in mind that the total image in the film and the book was in many parts fictional and was certainly not an accurate portrayal of reality.

But most of all … it saddens me that people who put a lot of time and effort along the way to help were not even mentioned, let alone thanked … just so that the boys could more look like conquering heroes. Thats a bit cheap.

– – –

So what of the Vilyuisky Trakt? – you certainly dont need to be a hero to ride it.  Bearing in mind there is a sandy stretch for 40 km or so to the west of Vilyuisk, the rest is, in good weather, just a regular garden variety dirt road.  Any bike will do this road, including the larger GSs and Africa Twins. Some sand and gravel experience would help, but as Tony showed, is certainly not necessary.

Fuel is no problem, tho some of the stations occasionally run out of fuel and others have only 80 or 76 octane.  From west to east 92 octane is available at Mirny, Suntar, Nyurba, VerkhneVilyuisk, Vilyuisk, Khampa, Orto-Surt, Berdigestyakh, Magaras and Yakutsk.  The only lonely stretch with some distance between settlements is about 110 km from Novy (near Almazny) to Krestyakh.  Thats the same stretch with the two water crossings, that should be served by ferry trucks.

I can recommend the Buryat run cafe opposite the petrol station at the eastern end of Nyurba, the cafe next to the petrol station in Khampa and for the best ‘Sosisky v Toste’ (Sausage in batter) in Siberia, Asima is your spot.

All in all, I think its a great alternative route for anyone heading up to Yakutsk and Magadan and offers a much more thorough view of Yakutia.  The villages from Suntar to Yakutsk are pretty much 100% Yakutian, and the few people who have met foreigners have not met them here.

You can either branch off the normal Trans Siberian highway at Taishet and take the BAM road thru Bratsk to Ust Kut and the barge to Lensk from there or do what we did and cut up to Ust Kut from Irkutsk, via Zhigalovo.

Certainly the Vilyuisky Trakt is a more interesting route to the standard, as the long stretch from Ulan Ude to Yakutsk via Chita, Skovorodino and Tynda is known for being mind numbingly boring and heavily trafficked with lots of heavy Russian trucks.

– – –

New Note:  Photos updated now – Blogs updated with pics all the way back to Krasnoyarsk.

– – –

The barge took surprisingly long to dock at the earthen jetty at Lensk. Last night at Peledui, in the twilight the barge had docked almost instantly on a makeshift pile of dirt jutting out into the river that made do as a jetty.

We were one of the first vehicles off and waved goodbye to our friends of several days – the truck drivers on board the barge. Many of the drivers had begged me for Sibirsky Extreme stickers … and though I was low on supplies, I felt obliged to give them stickers. The truck drivers had helped us a lot on board, donating food supplies, tea and information freely.

The first stop was a petrol station. It was only 245 km to Mirny but we were now in Yakutia and I think its prudent to fill up at every opportunity in Yakutia. When we were done, a curious local Lensk-ite at the petrol station led us to the start of the Anabar Road – the road that leads north from Lensk thru the diamond mining towns of Mirny, Udachny and continues on as a zimnik (winter road) as far north as Anabar.

The Anabar road was a dusty affair. We had 3 totally dry hot days while on the Lena and it was clear that the weather had been no different here. It was hot and dusty. When meeting oncoming vehicles of passing other vehicles, visibility dropped to 30 metres or less. Not exactly safe at 100 km/h which equates to about 30 metres a second. The further we got from Lensk, the more traffic thinned out and the easier riding became. We had to ride a kilometre apart as the dust made it impossible to ride any closer.

We stopped for food, kitchen cooked food, the first in 4 days, and soon after I stopped to have a crap in the woods, the first in 3 days. Damn mosquitos are fierce up here. My trousers were down for no more than a minute, but it seems my pasty white butt was manna from heaven for the local mosquitos – who feasted gluttonously. I didnt realise how badly I had been bitten until 5 minutes after we rode off when I felt no less than ten itchy stinging bumps rising on my buttocks.

We were passed while stopped by one of the truck drivers from the boat, who tooted loudly. Once on the road after my gentlemans break, we hauled him in and in a cloud of dust burst back past him … to yet more rapturous tooting.

Two hours later and we were on the outskirts of Mirny. I called Ilya, a local Africa Twin rider (recently converted from sports bikes) who zoomed out to meet us as we rode into town. Mirny is a modern decent sized, educated town. Ilya took us to see Mirny’s main attraction, the largest, deepest hole in the world. For almost 50 years diamonds were mined in a giant pit around which the town has grown. The pit closed in 2001 and the diamonds are now mined underground.

Then it was onto a mechanic friend, Andrei. Tony and I still had a couple of bolts to sort out. Andrei would sort it tomorrow. He would store our bikes overnight and he found a friend with a spare apartment to lend us.

– – –

04.07.09

Andrei the mechanic came to collect us at the apartment at midday. First stop was the general store near his workshop where we stocked up on pirozhki and samsas for breakfast, then go to work on what we could fix. Andrei was pretty busy (one of his customers was a drunk guy from Aikhal in a Nissan Pathfinder who had been on the barge with us … he was very excited to see us again and asked us to call him and come round for a party wheen in Aikhal. – I said we would think about it)

Due to all the work, Andrei only managed to get around to our bolt needs by 4pm … but we fixed both bikes, stripped off half the gear (we would be back here in 3 days time) and with Ilya along side we headed off to refuel and hit the Anabar road north.

Ilya rode with us till near Chernyshevsky, 100 km down the road. A big storm cell was in front of us and Ilya was just in jeans, so was prudent for him to head back. It was the furtherest out of Mirny he had ridden. he said there were 7 bikers in Mirny, but all but him were on street bikes. They stick to the asphalt in Mirny. Ilya’s bike had been flown in to Mirny air freight from Moscow less than a month earlier, so he hadnt ridden it here. We were on virgin motorcycling territory heading north from Chernyshevsky.

We stopped in Chernyshevsky to get some dinner and refuel. It was only 3-4 litres each, but we would need it on the 425km ride from here to Udachny. We were a very popular attraction in the town store … not many foreigners up this way we were told. The ladies in the towns store even insisted on giving us a free cup of tea each. Our charm goes a long way up here 😉

Then we crossed the Vilyui river at 7pm and from here to Udachny was pretty much due north. The Vilyui is a pretty big river in itself … we are 1500 km from Yakutsk here and will follow the Vilyui for most of the way to Yakutsk. It is one of the larger tributaries of the Lena, and was pretty big even here – 1500 km before it joins the Lena.

As soon as we crossed the Vilyui, the taiga forest changed. The 20-30 metre high pines and birch trees were smaller and continued shrinking as we sped north. Light would be no problem. We are only 2 weeks from the longest day of the year and we are only a few degrees short of the Arctic Circle, so we could expect “white nights”. We passed the drunk guy’s Nissan Pathfinder … it was parked at an odd angle by the side of the road with no sign of life around … strange. We went on.

About 9pm we exerienced what we experienced on the barge. Up north here there is no huge change in light levels between night and day, just a gradual softening between about 11pm and 3am, but there is a dramatic change in temperature. Daytime temperature (about 20 degrees) lasts till 9pm, then in a 15 minute period drops rapidly to about 8 degrees or less. The sun was still out and shining but the temperature dropped like a stone and we stopped to rug up. Tony poured his 5 litres of spare fuel into his tank and the earphones went back in for another 200 – 250 km of dirt and mud.

At 11pm, now just 65 km from Udachny we reached the turnoff to Aikhal, another diamond mining town. Aikhal was just 10 km off the Anabar road and my fuel light had just come on. I asked Tony how much he had left and he reckoned about 35 miles (55km) … hmmm it was risky. I decided to turn in to Aikhal and refuel. Its the only place between Chernyshevsky and Udachny with fuel. 5km down the road to Aikhal, and I ran out completely. I was shocked. For starters I should have about 500 Km range and had gone only 375 km. Secondly I normally get 70km once the reserve light comes on. I had barely got 5km. had I sprung a leak? I sent Tony onwards to Aikhal to get fuel and waited in the cold and the wind for him to return. 15 mins later and Tony had filled up and got 5 litres for me. 76 octane … the worst of the trip so far, and nothing to dilute it with (no half tank of 92 or 96 octane). I poured it into the tank and fired up the bike … both bikes ran fine on the pure 76. They have an anti-knock sensor that adjusts the timing to suit the grade of fuel you put in. We wont get as much power out of the 76, but the bikes will run with it. Did I tell you how much I love this engine??

I rode into town as Tony led the way to the fuel station. Initially Tony had been rebuffed in his attempt to buy fuel, but reluctantly the lady had relented and sold him enough. Now down at the bowser myself I saw why. There was a sign indication limits and rationing. I decided just to take 10 litres. We would go to Udachny tomorrow and maybe they would have 92 octane.

It had been light drizzle for the last hour or two and we were both pretty cold and wet by now. The lady in the fuel station took pity on us and called the local hotel (run by a friend), who agreed to take us in. It wouldnt be cheap, but beggars cant be choosers. In diamond mining towns like this, the only visitors are accountants or consultants flying in from Moscow or South Africa etc, so the prices for accomodation tend to be very high.

The ladies in the hotel passed us on to one of her friends, a lady at the police station 300 yards aaway, who agreed to store our bikes in the police car park in exchange for a few midnight photos. Once the bikes were parked, Tony went off in search of beer and chips, and I set about cleaning up a bit. I walked into the shower in boots and riding pants and hosed the last few hours of mud off myself.

Tony and I sat up till 3am, still light outside, discussing the strange day we had just had. By now we are at 65 degrees 57 minutes north, and I am confident that we have now travelled further north in Asia on motorbikes than has been done previously. The road of bones only gets as far as 63′ 25″, and the new northern variation via Ust Nera only to 64′ 36″ North. The only riding being done further north in Russia is by locals who have had their bikes flown in.

– – –

05.07.09

I woke several times before our official rise and shine time of midday, but each time I looked outside the window in Aikhal and saw nothing but thick grey clouds and rain. This was a bad day to try and get beyond Udachny. There was a knock on the door. No idea who that could be. It was the drunk guy with the Nissan Pathfinder. He had tracked us down in Aikhal. What a ‘lucky’ co-incidence.

After he left I even stuck my hand out the window. It almost froze instantly. I consulted with Tony … we decided to wait a bit. I went downstairs to see when we had to check out. A bit of debating followed but as we had actually checked in just after midnight (thus todays date) they agreed that we could stay till tomorrow morning. Since we were paying 85 EUR a day for the serviced apartment, getting that extra night in was a real bonus. And it meant we could leave everything in the room and travel extra light up to Udachny, as we would return in the evening.

Daylight is not a problem for us. We could return at 5pm, 8pm or 11pm and it would be just as bright. Here it darkened slightly between about 2 and 4am, but was still twilight in those hours.

By 2:30pm the rain had eased to a drizzle, and we walked down to the police station to collect our bikes for the final assault on Udachny. The riding gear had dried a bit, but was in general still wet, and now also cold. Oh what a fun day we were going to have.

The road north was muddy but not too slippery, just like it was yesterday, and we covered the 75km to Udachny in just under an hour. The temperature today was 8 degrees and with the rain and the constant northern wind, we were both freezing by the time we got there. We passed a fuel station of sorts, but on closer inspection it was completely closed. There must be some fuel around I thought to myself as local cars were moving about.

The cold was getting to us and we decided to find a cafe in town where we could (a) warm up (b) get some breakfast – at 4:30pm and (c) get information about petrol and any road that could get us further north. We found our cafe and settled in for a lot of cups of warm lemon tea to accompany our fish, meatballs and sandwich that we ordered.

I spoke with the lady that ran the cafe about permafrost. Here in Udachny its just 10-15 cm below the surface of the ground. In Mirny it was 1.5 – 2m below the surface and Lensk didnt have any at all. With all that frozen earth just below the surface, drainage was a real issue. Any rain just sits around until it evaporates.

One drunk local sang our praises constantly for half an hour but said the road north is impossible this time of year. A couple of more sober younger lads offered to lead us to (a) petrol and (b) the road north that crosses the Arctic Circle. I had heard several distances mentioned by locals regarding how far north you need to go to get to the Arctic Circle, but all were between 15 and 20 km. Some said 16, some 15, some 18, some 20km.

We donned the wet jackets (at least after 2hrs in the cafe they were only wet, rather than cold and wet) and saddled up to follow the boys in their Lada. First stop the petrol station. Similar signs were seen … limits etc. And one that said closed from 6:30 to 8pm for dinner. It was now 6:40pm. Doh !.

Then we drove on following the Lada and saw signs to Anabar … the continuation of the Anabar Road. The road was in decent shape and our spirits rose. Maybe it is possible to get to the Artic Circle in summer (if you can call this cold and rain summer). But our hopes were dashed 6km north of Udachny. The constant recent rain had left an huge amount of water cascading over the road. It was an enormous torrent. The guys in the Lada shrugged their shoulders andd turned round to head back into town. Tony and I just stared forlornly at the sight in front of us.

We were there for half an hour, at 66′ 27″ North wondering if there was any way to cross the river and do the last 10km to the Circle. I had a thought that we could return tomorrow, hire a massive 6WD Zil truck to take us across, and return the same way an hour later.

There was nothing to do but wait for the petrol station to re-open. We rode into to two and waited under the steps of the local post office to shelter from the rain (but we couldnt shelter from the cold and the wind). At 8pm I rode to the station and it was open. I asked the lady there for 15 litres of 92 octane. “No petrol” she repied.
“Please”, I countered, “just 10 litres?, 5 litres?”
“Ok, 10 litres – 330 rubles”
And so a bit of begging, grovelling and looking like a sorry, cold, wet foreigner standing in the rain with a motorcycle that was low on fuel actually helped.

And with my 10 litres of 92 octane fuel we headed back to Aikhal and our warm, dry serviced apartment. However if the cold wet day we had enjoyed so far today was tough, we were about to begin 26 hours of utter motorcycling hell.

15 km out of Udachny, and Tony’s front tyre became flat. We were still just 10 minutes ride from town so we stripped the wheel off and I carried back into town to find a shino-montazh. It took over an hour to find one, but they got to work fixing the split along the seam of Tony’s original tubes. These tubes are too thin for rough dirt roads and Tony has had several similar problems in the past few weeks. Fortunately he has some heavy duty ones coming out in the next Sibirsky Extreme supply shipment.

I would love to have bought an old Boeing 707 and convert it into a Sibirsky Extreme supply plane – something like the Led Zeppelin 707 from the early 70’s … maybe with drying racks and warm beds … flying around Siberia full of spares, Sibirsky Extreme logo emblazoned on the tail. But I am fantasizing again. We are in Udachny, cold and wet, and we have a flat tyre … back to reality.

No patches here in Udachny, so they just cut a bit of rubber from another tube and vulcanise it using heat and pressure for 30 minutes. As soon as that hole was fixed, we tested the tube and another hole was found. So another 30 minutes went by while it was vulcanised. The guys at the Shino-montazh loved the motorcycling up to Udachny story and insisted on coming with me out to Tony to see the second bike. So we went, me riding and they driving 15 km south of Udachny where Tony was waiting in the cold and the rain.

We quickly fitted the front wheel and were about to ride off when we spotted Tony’s rear tyre was now flat. It must be a slow leak as we were able to pump it up, but the thought of a problem developing in the middle of the night half way back to Aikhal made us return to Udachny to have it repaired and so in a convoy of 2 bikes and one jeep, we went back to the Shino-montazh HQ. By now it was almost midnight. Tony and I sat upstairs having tea while the boys went to work on his back wheel. 45 mins or so later it was fixed and Tony and I refitted the wheel to the bike. As he was about to saddle up, we noticed the front wheel was now flat. Well if you are going to have a flat, might as well have it as a tyre repair place. And so more tube repairing went on. One of the first vulcanisations hadnt taken well and was easily ripped off (too easily it seemed to me).

I spoke with the boys about hiring a Zil truck tomorrow for the river crossing, since they were in the automotive business but they said not even Zil’s are going across that river now. Well that was it. If Zil’s aren’t making it over then nothing is crossing that road, at least while the water levels are as they are. The Arctic Cirle would have to wait for someone else at someother time, perhaps with a week of dry weather prior to their arriving in Udachny.

By 2:30am we were done and Tony and I hit the road for our ride back to Aikhal. Only 10 km out of townand the front was flat again. We took the wheel off Tony’s bike and I returned again to the tyre place, saying that I think the tube was dead and they should just fit the spare. In reality I was by now convinced that something was not working in their vulcanising method. Maybe it was the wrong type of rubber, who knows. They fitted the spare and I returned yet again to Tony waiting out in the cold, fitted the front wheel, complete with proper tube now, and rode back to Aikhal.  All the way I had been fearing Tony’s rear wheel. If I was right about the dodgy vulcanising, then his rear tube was at risk too, as they had repaired that one once as well. But we made it back ok, about 4:30 am, finally. Nothing has felt better than the warm shower after we had after making it back. We had left Udachny about 8:30pm for a 45 minute ride to Aikhal and made it 8 hours and 4 flat tyres later.

– – –

06.07.09

Our alarms went off at 10:30. We needed to be out of the apartment by midday and there was a fair bit of cleaning and reshuffling of stuff to do. But by midday we were out and had the bikes. First stop was a canteen (stolovaya) as we hadnt eaten thoughout our evening ordeal. Then it was back to the Aikhal petrol station to top up on 76 octane for the 375km to Chernyshevsky, the next fuel.

Two extra days of rain had made the road south worse than when we rode it on the way up. It was muddier, the rain was heavier, the temperature was colder. And we had hours and hours and hours of it. It would be 5 hours on dirt roads in good weather, travelling at 100 km/h, but in the heavy rain and thick mud, we would be lucky to average 70 km/h. Thats almost 8 hours of mud. Any slower than 70 km/h and we wouldnt get out before winter. Tony seemed to sense my desire to get back to relative civilisation as soon as possible and we powered on.

We stopped breifly in the village of Morkoka, (the only inhabited place in the 375 km between Aikhal and Chernyshevsky) as we had been told there might be fuel there. (There was a cafe with limited accomodation there too in case anyone else heads up this way some time). The fuel station was open, but had onnly diesel. If they had petrol, they werent selling it to us, even with puppy dog face and begging.

On and on thru the cold and the rain we went. We had a loose plan to meet Ilya back in Mirny at 6pm and were just on track to make that as we had been making better speed than initially thought. With about 300 km done and about 75 km from Chernyshevsky and the start of civilisation, Tony stopped. My fears had been realised, his rear tyre was flat. It would have been the dodgy vulcanisation from last night.

It was time to do a tube change. In the rain and the mud, and swarms of savage mosquitoes too we took off Tony’s back tyre. Nearby was a stream and in freezing cold water Tony had to wash the wheel, tyre and tube to avoid getting mud into the inside of the tyre. Initially I wanted to patch Tony’s spare with proper self-vulcanising patches, but this was impossible due to the rain … there was no-where to get the tube dry. So Tony’s spare rear was put in, the tyre refitted and pumped up. We had managed to refit the tyre without pinching the tube. All of this had been done in slow motion as both of us had fingers so cold that nothing was happening automatically. We had to force our fingers to do this or that. And so an hour after stopping we were again on our way. The only one piece of satisfaction I got from that exercise is knowing Safran will now cease his complaining that we dont change our flat tyres ourselves.

The last 75 km to Chernyshevsky was the muddiest of the lot. Rear ends were slipping and sliding all over the place and it took an hour and a half, but we had both made it. Neither had resorted to our 5 litres of reserve fuel and we went straight to the fuel station to feed the thirsty bikes on 92 octane juice.

Phone coverage existed there too and I texted Ilya to let him know we would be late. Maybe 8pm. We had planned to get a bite to eat in Chernyshevsky but with Ilya waiting for us 100 km down the road in Mirny, we pressed on after refuelling. This dirt road was in much better shape and I roared along at 100 km/h, defying the rain and the cold. My heated gloves and vest had been on all day, and now my phone was charging up. We would soon be warm and clean.

30km out of Chernyshevsky and Tony’s headlight disappeared from my rear view mirror. I stopped and a few minutes later it re-appeared. ‘come on Tony, this is no time to faff about going slow’ I thought to myself. The light caught up with me and I roared off again only to leave Tony’s headlight trailing far behind. This was not like Tony. Even on the muddy roads he was now pretty comfortabe riding about as fast as I liked to ride. I stopped to wait for him and he pulled up next to me. His engine was overheating. We killed the bikes and checked out Tony’s radiator. It was clogged with baked mud, about an inch thck, that had set like concrete from the heat.

As the mosquitos again began feasting, Tony set about with water form a nearby stream and a wooden stick, trying to clear his radiator. He had actually done tthis several times over the past few days, each time successfully, for a few hours before a few hours more mud clogged it again, but this time it was hard work. 20 minutes later and it was as clean as it was going to get.
We saddled up and fired up the bikes, or tried to. My battery was now flat. I had been riding all day with heated gear. There was nothing for it but to jump start the bike. We had no jumper leads, but Tony had a cable with a DIN plug at one end. I stripped the ends of the cable while Tony took off his battery panels. About a dozen screws need to be undone to get at the battery on his F650, and in the cold, with the mosquitoes, it took an eternity. Finally the batteries were connected and my bike fired up. It took another eternity to put all the panels back on.

Back on the road again and 20 km down the road Tony needed to stop and again squirt as much water as possible over his radiator. My bike stalled as we pulled up and the battery had not charged enough to fire it up. While Tony squirted his radiator, I puched the bike up a nearby hill. The 650 engine is not an easy one to clutch start, due to the compression, so I needed a decent hill. Fortunately unlike 20 km back, there was one available. Clutch starting the 650 needs to be done in 4th gear, as any other gear just results in skidding the back wheel. Amazingly it fired up first time. I had become accustomed to thinking life was meant to be hell and it was nice to know something still worked.

I went back to where Tony was. We were now only 50 km from Mirny. We had different problems with the bikes, Tonys being one that meant he needed to stop regularly, and mine being one that meant I should not stop at all. I told Tony that I was going to ride ahead non-stop to town to get to Andrei’s garage. If I didnt see him in an hour I would send out a car search party. He agreed, meaning he could take his time with his radiator and then hose it out properly when we got to Andrei’s.

I finally made it to Andrei’s about 10:30pm. The day had been tough, but the period from Tony’s flat rear to arriving in Mirny had been utter hell. Cold, wet, muddy and everytime we stopped we were eaten by mosquitos. It was an endurance test par excellence. An SAS style training course for motorcyclists.

I immediately reached for Andrei’s Karcher pressure washer and turned it on myself. From the knees down I was covered in about an inch thick muddy slime, and then I started on the bike. 10 minutes into the process I heard the tell tale sound of a 650 rotax engine, and Tony pulled in. I immediately stopped what I was doing and turned the hose on him and on his radiator (from a safe distance) while he was still riding in. It took several minutes before his radiator was clean and well over 40 minutes before both bikes were acceptably clean.

Andrei turned off the Karcher and there was relief over Tony’s and my faces. We were back in Mirny and we were in the hands of friends … and were were halfway to clean … clean enough to sit in Andrei’s van as he took us to the apartment, via the beer shop of course.

– – –