Category Archives: Sibirsky Extreme

Remember Humphrey?

If you cast your minds back to the point where the Sibirsky Extreme Project passed over the Brenner pass on the Austro / Italian border I met a chap called Humphrey who was cycling to China while Walter was making sure nobody had defaced the border sign with a Sibirsky Extreme sticker. We had a short chat about our respective journeys, I gave him a Sibirsky Extreme business card and that was that.

Well today Humphrey got in touch with Sibirsky Extreme HQ and had this to say:

Hi Jonathan!

I am the cyclist you met at the Italian border! I hope you are well- how did your trip go? I passed into Montenegro today and noticed a Sibirsky extreme sticker on the country’s signpost! Was that you guys?!

All the best

Humphrey Wilson

www.humphreywilson.blogspot.com

His blog makes for interesting reading as he is up to now covering a similar route to ourselves. He has also discovered the vicious dogs that I was plagued with every time I stopped to take a photo. Walter and Marcin didn’t encounter such difficulties as their bikes were lighter and faster 😉

While he has only encountered Montenegrin wild dogs mine were mostly Albanian. Officially there is no rabies in Albania, however, there are many stray dogs and they often travel in packs. Even if these animals are not initially aggressive rabies is very much something to watch for in the Balkans and care should be taken as there is no anti-rabies vaccine currently available in Albania according to the Federation of International Trade Associations.

We wish Humphrey all the best of luck and at his current pace he’ll be catching Walter up!

Kavkaz – Part 2

23.04.09 Elbrus, Kabardino-Balkaria

Before I begin …just to clarify …”Kavkaz” means The Caucasus, in Russian.

After an evening at a birthday party in which the food was all Nogai, the guests were all Nogai and most of the language spoken was Nogai, I returned home to Irina’s and packed my bags and settled in for the night.  The Nogai language is Turkic based and is closest to Kazakh.

I was encouraged when I looked out the window on waking up.  It was still going to be cold today, but the sun would be out and I needed to get a move on.  Niccolo’s comment that the Uzbeks do not have I.T. on their borders has me thinking of trying to make it to Tashkent before flying to Moscow.

If that worked I would probably not be a week late in Siberia (Tony take note … of my state of confusion)

I left Cherkessk with the sun trying to break through and the temperature pretty much right on Zero.  I wore a hood thingy under my helmet and across my face for only the second time in the trip and turned my EXO2 heated vest up to full power.  The ground in and around Cherkessk was now clear of snow but all the surrounding hills were still wearing the surprising white blanket from yesterday. My route from Cherkessk to Kislovodsk wound gradually higher into the hills until I was at 1400 metres.  Cherkessk was around 450 metres, so I would imagine it was -4 to -6 ish up there.  Fortunately the road was pretty much clear of snow / ice.

My descent into Kislovodsk was greeted, of course, with a police checkpoint.  They ordered me off the bike and into the office.  Actually I didnt mind that.  the office was warm.  I had to produce more documents than at any previous document check … passport, IDP, ICMV, russian insurance policy and even the customs form for the bike.  Eventually they were satisfied and I was allowed to go, but I reckon it was a 20 minute unscheduled stop.

The plan had been to cut into the hills south of Kislovodsk and pursue some mountain trails towards Tirnyauz on the way to Mt Elbrus, Europe’s highest mountain.  The weather being what it was, I decided that was now not a realistic option and took the paved road past Essentuki and Pyatigorsk.  Once I turned off the main road and settled in for the 100km road down to Elbrus the scenery started getting all interesting again.

Just as I began to think that I was having a lucky day with Police and checkpoints, a guy in a police Lada zoomed up beside me and ordered me to pull over.  he claimed I had overtaken a truck on a solid centreline.  I cant recall doing it.  I was checking out the scenery and listening to my tunes.  But he was adamant it was a red Kamaz truck. He threatened to take my drivers licence in.  I didnt respond.  Eventually in frustration he rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for ‘money’.  Aha … now I see where he was coming from.  I was invited into the police car to settle the issue.  And on the record, that all there is to say about that for now.

5km further down the road, on the outskirts of Tirnyauz, there was another police checkpoint and request for documents.  I told the boys I had just met their colleagues down the road.  A few phone calls were made and they seemed to realise I had recently purchased a 500 ruble (12 EUR) ticket to the policemans ball.  With that news, I was waved onwards.
I stopped in the grubby town of Tirnyauz to look around.  It was full of abandoned factories.  Perhaps in Soviet days it had been a boom town, but now it oozed a sense of decay.  What amazed me though was how young the populationo was – kids everywhere.  I stopped and chatted to 3 Balkars.  I was by now in the autonomous republic of Kabardino-Balkaria … home to the Kabardins and the Balkars obviously enough.  The Balkars are the ultimate mountain people of Russia.  Related to the Karachay in the next republic along.  There has been talk of rejigging the republics boundaries to pair the closely related Karachay and the Balkars together and also creating a ‘greater Cherkessia’ by putting together the related Adegey, Cherkess and Kabardins  … a grouping we tend in English to refer to as ‘Circassian’ peoples.

Since leaving the main road at Baksan (at about 500 metres), the road had been steadily climbing. No windy turns, no steep gorges … just a slow steady climb up the wide valley floor.  By Tirnyauz I was at 1300 metres. By the village of Elbrus I was at 1800.  The road continued on for another 15 km and I decided to ride it till the end.  After the village of Elbrus, hotels could be seen beside the road.  As there were none in the 100 km prior to that, I decided to hit the end of the road, turn round and grab a cheap hotel.

At the end of the road was a ski resort.  Pretty primative by western european standards, but high up at 2359 metres – according to the official Sibirsky Extreme GPS.  Lifts were still running and skiiers and boarders still wandering about.  Heliski helicopters were still flying overhead.  With the peak of Mt Elbrus (5642m) less than 10km away, there was bound to be good snow higher up, and there was plenty higher to go.  Unfortunately overcast conditions limited my abilty to fotograph the big mountain itself.

A carload of 20 something Russian party lads and lasses from Pyatigorsk invited me to ‘party with them’ up in their hotel room, but I just wanted to get my own hotel room.  I had passed a cheaper hotel a few km back down the mountain that had internet and sauna (I wonder if they work this time) for 500 rubles (about 12 EUR) so I headed there, checked in and called it a day.

Unfortunately, all day today I struggled to find “good air” for the fotos … but there was something in the air today that made it a bit unclear and the pictures are a little washed out.   Not much I can do about that.   It was just a bad air day.

PS … If you want to see what Elbrus looks like on a decent air day and without clouds around it … here is a link to a picture from May 2008 …

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c7/Mount_Elbrus_May_2008.jpg

Russia at Last

19.04.09 Tekos, Russia

My day began in the Hotel Kerch by taking advantage of the finest shower I had found in the Ukraine. This was followed by an hour or so to take advantage of the wireless internet in the hotel lobby. I was paying up for these things, so I might as well use them I figured.

Eventually, after my complimentary omelette breakfast, I packed up the bike and headed out towards the ferry to Russia, 15 km out of town.

I arrived at the port at 10:00, only to learn there was a ferry at 10:15, but the customs and immigration process for that boat had closed and the next one was at 1:15pm. Bad start to the day. Wasting 3 hours at a sleepy Ukranian ferry port was not something I was looking forward to. I found the ticket office … it would cost me about 3 EUR for me and 4 EUR for the motorcycle. I returned to the motorcycle to get my documents to find a traffic police officer waiting for me. I had apparently crossed a railway crossing with a flashing red light 500 yards before the port, and he was determined to nail me for my last 500 yards in the Ukraine.

The customs guys came over to see what the fuss was about, thought my motorcycle was pretty cool and pleaded with the traffic cop to let it go, but the cop was having none of it. It took about an hour to write out my ticket in duplicate, write out the penalty in duplicate and for me to go the the bank, change money, pay the 32 EUR penalty, get a receipt from the bank, get a receipt from the cop etc etc etc. About 50 forms and an hour later and he was done. After he was gone, I bought my ferry ticket and spent my last 3-4 EUR worth of Ukranian Hryvna on fruit juice and bounty bars. Having seen me go through all the drama with the traffic cop, the customs and immigration guys were apologetic and sped me thru to wait for the arrival of the 1:15 ferry.

The ferry eventually loaded up and pulled out about 2pm … which translated to 3pm in Russia … the Russian port of Port Kavkaz was an hour ahead of the Ukranian Port Krym. The crossing was only 20-30 minutes, but I wondered when I would clear the Russian port, bearing in mind I was arriving at 3:30pm.  To my pleasant surprise, the Russian side was far more efficient than my arrival in the Ukraine at Reni 8 days ago. Immigration only looked at my passport for a minute (unlike the 15 minutes of scrutinising every stamp and every blank page that the Ukranians did). As for customs, a kind motherly woman shepherded me thru the whole process, and tho she spoke no English, helped me fill out the forms and arranged my insurance.  Note for budding travellers … Russia accepts the Green Card insurance set up too these days and they actually asked for it … implying they would have happily honoured it. As I didnt have that I took 5 month insurance for about 50 EUR. That should cover my whole travels in Russia.

I was out of the port and on the road by 4:15pm. I was amazed at how relatively efficient it had been, particularly compared with the awkward guy I dealt with at Reni, who I suspect was awkward because he wanted a bribe. In contrast the Russians were relatively efficient. I had met a couple of guys on the ferry deck, one of whom was on my route and invited me to stay with him that night, 300 km down the road. He gave me his phone number, but now that I was out of the port, I called it, and it seems I had the wrong number. Oh well.

15 km down the road from the port and I stopped at a police checkpoint to have my documents checked for the first time in the trip. A quick glance at the International Driving Permit (IDP), the International Certificate for Motor Vehicles (ICMV) and my Passport and he waved me on my way. No long lingering glances or shaking of the head implying problems (really implying bribe time) … so far I was glad to be out of Ukraine and into the relative civility of Russia. Even the roads were better here.

I motored thru the summer resort city of Anapa, then the major industrial centre and port city of Novorossiysk before finding another great road south from Gelendzhik. The road was not busy and wound past valley streams and really quaint villages. Immediately I began to think of camping for the night. It was after 7:30pm now and the sunlight was just about gone.  A few km past the village of Tekos, I saw a campfire next to a cottage up on the hill. I slammed on the brakes and rode up the dirt track to the cottage. Around the fire were 7 or 8 Kolkhozniki – guys who worked together on a small communal farm. They told me to forget the idea of camping as it was too cold in the night, and to stay in the cottage instead.

In the soviet times, farms were either of the Kolkhoz or Sovkhoz variety. The Sovkhoz farms were fully state owned and run and larger, while the Kolkhoz farms were semi private, smaller and the kolkhozniki (people who worked the kolkhoz) had to provide a set amount of produce to the government – the remainder was theirs. The ultimate Soviet idea was to move everything over to the sovkhoz style farms, but successive soviets realised the partially privatised kolkhoz farms were far more efficient and never got around to sovkhozing the lot.

The kolkhozniki plied me with chai (tea) plov (meat and rice) and stories. Let me digress from the story here for a second. I will post a picture of my meal. Partly to show how simple life is in a kolkhoz and partly because I have recently received a request from a “high ranking official” to post more pictures of food. Apparently a picture that doesnt include food or a motorcycle is a wasted picture. Yes, I know what you are thinking, this sounds like a man with some strange fetishes, and you are probably right, but never-the-less, I feel obliged to honour the request – thus the picture of Kolkhoz dining service plov above.  Gordon Ramsay eat your heart out baby.

For a cityboy, this was an evening out of a fairytale for me. I was in the foothills of the Caucasus mountains, set in wild forested hills, clear water streams in a small cabin / cottage with the kind of guys who more than any I have ever met, are the real salt of the earth. These guys had very little in the way of posessions, but beamed happiness at having all they need. All the fruit, vegetables etc they need come from the kolkhoz, and its all very fresh. They also kept bees and cut some huge chunks of fresh honeycomb for me. very tasty. Many of the kolkhozniki lived in nearby villages and went home about 10pm, leaving me in the company of a family from Dagestan who lived permanently in the cottage. As is typical of Dagestan, the family was completely mixed ethnically. The father was Tatar, the mother Russian, the son and daughter mixed and the daughters boyfriend was Tabasaran. They set me up in a small room complete with power socket to recharge all my phones, laptop etc etc. Fantastic stuff.

– – –

I woke up after a fantastic nights sleep, on a very dodgy bed, was cooked breakfast and chai by Mama-san, and packed up my gear and hit the road down to Tuapse, before I turned inland and through the mountains. The road from my overnight kolkhoz to Tuapse was by the coast and motels and restaurants lined the route, tho many were not yet open at this time of year. By mid-May it would be really easy to have a wide choice of places to stay if motorcycling in these parts.

I needed to change some USD, as I only had a couple of hundred rubles on me, and I would soon need some fuel. Perhaps tonight I would also want a hotel and some food. It was sunday and the policeman I spoke to in Tuapse said there was nothing open today, and tomorrow is a holiday. I was unlikely to last till Tuesday without rubles, so needed to find something. The cop said it was possible I would find something open in Maykop, the next big town I was heading thru, and though it would be a stretch for the fuel tank, I had a few rubles with which to top up with if things got close. So I turned inland and headed for Maykop. The road was another great riding road. In fact I will add the whole section from Gelendzhik – Tuapse – Apsheronsk to the recommended roads section. It was through forested hills, following mountain streams the whole way. It really fitted in with the whole back to nature feel I had since arriving in Russia.

One of the things I love about this country is it has so much wilderness and nature, and the Russians love that and use it. People are always out picnicing in the forest. There are a little more than 2 times as many people in Russian as in the UK, in a country hundreds of times the size. There was no real chance to shower with the kolkhozniki, and having seen their latrine, I decided to wait a while and find my own location somewhere down the road. Being in the forest and the mountains, hundreds of opportunities persented themselves and eventually I turned off the road, down a track that led just 30 or 40 yards through the forest to a mountain stream. There is something “back to nature” about taking a dump in the woods. Maybe I have been cooped up in the city too long, but that and washing in a mountain stream, on the rocks, in the sunshine, in the forest, was extremely liberating. I had only been in Russia less than 24 hours, but the whole exposure to nature has been incredibly uplifting.

After my little break, I got back on the road, got to Maykop, which is the capital of the Adegey Republic, one of many semi-autonomous republics for the many nationalities in the North Caucasus. I found an open “obmen valuti” (currency exchange booth) in the centre of town, just as my fuel warning light came on and got myself some much needed rubles. Apart from topping up with fuel, I also took the chance to grab some lunch and chat with an Adegey father and daughter who had also stopped at the same Shaurma stall. I only went another 40 km out of town, where I saw a modern looking hotel. It was only 4:15pm but I thought I might as well have an early day.

I was the only guest in the hotel, so could afford to take a bed in a shared room knowing I would have the room to myself. It was only 8 EUR, and had a nice open fireplace. Allegedly it had internet and a sauna too, but the internet was only for the expensive rooms (more like 45 EUR). And the Sauna took 3 hours to heat up so they decided not to turn it on for a cheapskate in a shared room. I chatted with the receptionist, a cossack girl, about Adegeya.

Historically the cossacks were native Ukrainian horsemen who were loyal to the Russian Tsars and were instumental in the expansion of the Russian empire. The Tsar had promised them land just North of the Caucasus and the cossacks went in and took it, pushing the native peoples up into the hills and mountains. Accordingly the cossacks and the North Caucasian nationalities have historically been on opposing teams, and that history seemed to remain in the receptionist who clearly had no intention of mixing with the Adegey, despite being born here and having lived here all her life. She didnt go to Maykop when she wanted the big city shopping trip, but to Krasnodar, an ethnic Russian city 4 times further away. “Too many Adegey in Maykop” she said.

A note for travellers to Russia / Kazakhstan … the russian words for Cossack (pronounced kaZAK) and Kazakh (pronounched kaZAKH – with the KH being like the gutteral ending to the scottish ‘loch’) are remarkably similar for two completely unrelated peoples. If you dont make the effort to clarify the ending and say the work ‘Kazakh’ as we often do in english, you will likely be confused as to meaning Cossack. Similarly, the words for a female of each is also remarkably similar. A female cossack is a ‘kaZATCHka’ while a female kazakh is a ‘kaZASHka’.

As I suspected, post oil and tyre change fuel economy on the bike has returned to normal levels, around 25 km / litre (4l/100 km or 70 mpg). I filled up earlier today with 20 litres, having just done 500 km, much on twisty mountain roads.

Map Update

Here we go …. I have a temporary track solution.

http://www.gpsvisualizer.com/display/1239975173-06586-93.190.179.77.html

That takes me up until Kerch … just about to enter Russia.  For some reason its extremely undetailed.  My orginal GPS files have loads of detail – every turn, every twist, every hairpin – but its not coming thru on this google map translation.  We will work on it.

Cyril?  Niccolo?  Any ideas?  You guys had really good results with your KMZ translation.  What program did you use?

Facing up to Russia

16 April 09:  Feodosia, Crimea

I left Yalta knowing the bike had been pampered this week.  Electrical love on Monday in Odessa and a full mechanical service in Yalta on Wednesday.  My last act was to give Valeri a Sibirsky Extreme sticker. He beamed a smile as  he prepared a spot on the back of his transit van for the treasured item.

On the road, the bike was humming.  Maybe carrying the extra tyres or the old oil was causing me to have had poor fuel economy for the last few days but after the oil change and the new tyres fitted, the bike was flying!  I felt a real difference in the performance of the bike and without the weight of the tyres sitting high up on top of the rear bag, it was much lighter and more flickable.  The road from Yalta to Feodosia was a real gem, especially east of Alushta, and the lighter, higher performance bike gave me a real buzz.  My only concern on the windy hilly roads was how quickly I had been wearing through front brake pads.  The XC had a dirt bike front brake set up – a single small disk and small caliper … nice and light and not too grippy in the dirt, but not as durable or secure on twisty mountian roads.

About 5pm I pulled into Feodosia, headed for the centre of town and called Yuri, the guy on the R6 I met yesterday at Valeri’s garage.  He said he could actually see me. In a city of 100,000 people I had apprently pulled up right outside the front of his apartment.

He took myself and the bike to his lock up garage (where it became apparent he also had a couple of KTM dirt bikes) and then zoomed me around town in his brand new Lexus.

Yuri confirmed that he drove all the way to Yalta to get Valeri’s advice on a mechanical issue and said he is the best bike mechanic in the Crimean Peninsula.  I have to say I have never had such a feeling of confidence in a foreign mechanic before as I had in Valeri.  Anyone heading this way should track him down.

Feodosia is one of the oldest towns in the former Soviet Union, being originally a greek settlement over 2500 years ago.  There is a lot of history there, including a 13th century Genoese Fortress, and Yuri made sure I saw it all.

– – –

17 April 09:  Kerch, Crimea

The day started in Feodosia by giving Yuri a coveted Sibirsky Extreme sticker, then off to the hairdressers.  I got what I feared … a mullet.  Seems to be the style here if a guy has longer hair.  I had to insist on a few alterations to the back to avoid looking like a complete tool.  Now, hours later, I am sitting in a cafe in Lenin  Street, Kerch, having just collected a new bank debit card.  Only problem was there was no PIN code with it.  I have sorted out something with the bank staff tho to get it forwarded to me.  So almost back to normal on the funding front.  Actually there is a lot of Lenin-abilia around these parts.  Not only is the main street in Kerch still Lenin Street, I am in the Lenin Region, and passed through the town of Illicha and Lenino earlier today.

UK radio is playing on the stereo here … must be internet radio.  Not sure what the locals make of all the “meercat.com” insurance adverts with silly Russian accents, but its reassuring to hear English voices again.  I havent met a native speaker since saying farewell to Jonathan over a week ago.  Speaking of Jon, I just heard he has safely arrived back in blessed England.  Take a break mate, you deserve it.

Took a bunch of back roads here, some dirt, some blocked due to recent installation of Russian military sites.  Kerch is the last stop before Russia.   Its 5km away across the Kerch Strait, so i might as well enjoy this internet access and make sure everything is uploaded and up to date.